While residing at Providence, and during her visits to Boston, in her
vacations, Margaret's mind was opening more and more to the charms of
art.
'The Ton-Kunst, the Ton-Welt, give me now more stimulus than
the written Word; for music seems to contain everything in
nature, unfolded into perfect harmony. In it the _all_ and
_each_ are manifested in most rapid transition; the spiral and
undulatory movement of beautiful creation is felt throughout,
and, as we listen, thought is most clearly, because most
mystically, perceived. * *
'I have been to hear Neukomm's Oratorio of David. It is to
music what Barry Cornwall's verses and Talfourd's Ion are
to poetry. It is completely modern, and befits an age of
consciousness. Nothing can be better arranged as a drama; the
parts are in excellent gradation, the choruses are grand and
effective, the composition, as a whole, brilliantly imposing.
Yet it was dictated by taste and science only. Where are the
enrapturing visions from the celestial world which shone down
upon Haydn and Mozart; where the revelations from the depths
of man's nature, which impart such passion to the symphonies
of Beethoven; where, even, the fascinating fairy land, gay
with delight, of Rossini? O, Genius! none but thee shall
make our hearts and heads throb, our cheeks crimson, our
eyes overflow, or fill our whole being with the serene joy of
faith.' * *
'I went to see Vandenhoff twice, in Brutus and Virginius.
Another fine specimen of the conscious school; no inspiration,
yet much taste. Spite of the thread-paper Tituses, the
chambermaid Virginias, the washerwoman Tullias, and the
people, made up of half a dozen chimney-sweeps, in carters'
frocks and red nightcaps, this man had power to recall a
thought of the old stately Roman, with his unity of will and
deed. He was an admirable _father_, that fairest, noblest
part,--with a happy mixture of dignity and tenderness,
blending the delicate sympathy of the companion with the calm,
wisdom of the teacher, and showing beneath the zone of duty
a heart that has not forgot to throb with youthful love. This
character,--which did actual fathers know how to be, they
would fulfil the order of nature, and image Deity to their
children,--Vandenhoff represented sufficiently, at least, to
call up the beautiful ideal.'