In Memoriam, Sir Josiah Mason.
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Price One Halfpenny.
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_The next Free Organ Recital will be given on July 2d_,
=AT THREE O'CLOCK.=
A HISTORY OF THE TOWN HALL ORGAN (A NEW EDITION, REVISED AND
ENLARGED,) BY MR. STIMPSON,
Is now ready, and may be had in the Town Hall, and the
Midland Educational Co.'s Warehouse, New Street.
=NOTICE.--A box will be placed at each door to receive
contributions, to defray the expenses of these recitals.=
The Prima Donna said she had never before heard an organ so grandly
played, and she knows. The management of the left hand in the fugue she
declared wonderful. It is best to give the best for the masses, even in
music, the highest of our gifts. John Bright has made most of his
speeches in this hall, but it is no longer large enough for the Liberal
demonstrations, and a much larger structure has been erected.
We are behind in providing music for the people, but it says much for
the progress of the Republic in these higher domains, from whence come
sweetness and light, that the greatest tragic singer, Frau Materna, said
to a friend that she would tell Herr Wagner upon her return that if he
wished to hear his greatest music performed better than ever it had been
before he must come to New York. Alas! even as I re-write these pages
comes the sad news that we can reap no more from that genius. He has
made his contribution to the world, and a noble one it is, rejoicing
many hearts and lifting many above their surroundings to exquisite
enjoyments beyond; and now he closes his eyes and vanishes; the long
day's task is ended and he must sleep.
To-night the Symphony Society substitutes for another number of their
programme his Funeral March. It will seem like a voice from the grave;
not a dry eye, nor a cold heart will be in the house. A soul has taken
flight to whom we are under obligation, which must increase and increase
the longer we live, for it has given expression to much that is of our
highest and best, and suggested a thousandfold more than ever could be
expressed. Our benefactor is indeed gone, in a sense material, but his
soul lives with us and his voice will still be heard calling us up
higher. The man who reveals new beauties in music enriches human life in
one of its highest phases, and is to be ranked with the true poet. He
who composes great music is the equal of him who writes great words;
Beethoven, Handel, and Wagner are worthy compeers of Shakespeare,
Milton, and Burns.
[Sidenote: _Furnaces and Coalpits._]
The eleven miles between Birmingham and Wolverhampton are nothing but
one vast iron-working, coal-mining establishment. There is scarcely a
blade of grass of any kind to be seen, and not one real clean pure blade
did we observe during the journey. It was Saturday afternoon and the
mills were all idle, and the operatives thronged the villages through
which we drove. O mills and furnaces and coal-pits and all the rest of
you, you may be necessary, but you are no bonnie! Pittsburghers though
many of us were, inured to smoke and dirt, we felt the change very
deeply from the hedgerows, the green pastures, the wild flowers and
pretty clean cottages, and voted the district "horrid." Wolverhampton's
steeples soon came into sight, and we who had been there and could
conjure up dear, honest, kindly faces waiting to welcome us with warm
hearts, were quite restored to our usual spirits, notwithstanding dirt
and squalor. The sun of a warm welcome from friends gives many clouds a
silver lining, and it did make the black country brighter. The coach and
horses, and Joe and Perry, not to mention our generalissimo, belong to
Wolverhampton, as you know, and our arrival had been looked for by many.
The crowd was quite dense in the principal street as we drove through.
One delegation after another was left at friends' houses, the
Charioteers having been billeted upon the connection; and here for the
first time we were to enjoy a respite.
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WOLVERHAMPTON, June 25-30.
We were honored by an entertainment at his Honor the Mayor's. As usual
on fine days in England, the attractions of the mansion (and they are
not small in this case) gave place to open-air enjoyments on the
lawn--the game, the race, the stroll, and all the rest of the sports
which charm one in this climate. The race across the lawn was far better
fun than the Derby, but our gentlemen must go into strict training
before they challenge those English girls again. It is some consolation
that Iroquois has since vindicated the glory of the Republic.
We coached one day about fourteen miles to Apley House, and had a joyous
picnic day with our friends Mr. and Mrs. S----, of Newton. The party
numbered seventy odd, great and small. That day the Charioteers agreed
should be marked as a red-letter day in their annals, for surely never
was a day's excursion productive of more enjoyment to all of us. There
are few, if any, prettier views in England than that from the terrace at
Apley House. The Vale of Severn deserves its reputation. We had a trip
on the river for several miles from Bridgenorth to the grounds as part
of the day's pleasure.
[Sidenote: _Small Rivers._]
How very small England's great rivers are! I remember how deeply hurt
Mr. F---- was when his Yankee nephew (H. P. Jr., Our Pard) visited him
for the first time, and was shown the river by his uncle, who loved it.
"Call this a river?" exclaimed he, "why, it's only a creek! I could
almost jump across it there." But H. P. was young then, and would not
have hesitated to "speak disrespectfully of the equator" upon occasion.
I won the good man's heart at once by saying that small though it was in
size (and what has either he or I to boast of in that line, I wonder?)
little Severn filled a larger space in the world's destiny and the
world's thoughts than twenty mighty streams. Listen:
"Three times they breathed and three times did they drink
Upon agreement of swift Severn's flood,
Who then, affrighted with their bloody looks,
Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds
And hid his crisp head in the hollow bank,
Blood-stained with these violent combatants."
Why, you have not a river like that in all America. H. P. was
judiciously silent. But I do not think he was ever quite forgiven.
These Americans have always such big ideas.
The free library at Wolverhampton interested me. I do not know where
better proof of the advantages of such an institution is to be found. It
was started upon a small scale, about fifteen thousand dollars being
expended; now some forty thousand dollars have been spent upon the
building. Last year eighty-six thousand books were issued. I counted at
noon, June 30th, sixty-three persons in the reading-room, and at another
time nearly two hundred readers. On Saturdays, between two and ten P.M.,
the number averages fully a thousand. In addition to the circulating
library, there are a reference library, a museum, and large
reading-rooms. Several courses of lectures are connected with the
institution, with teachers for the various branches. One teacher, a Mr.
Williams, has "passed" scholars in the science and art department every
year, and one year every one of his scholars passed the Kensington
examination. A working plumber who attended these classes gained prizes
for chemistry and electricity, and is now secretary of the water-works
at Chepstow. We may hear more of that climber yet. Plenty of room at the
top! No sectarian papers are subscribed for, but all reputable
publications are received if sent. In this way all sects are represented
by their best, if the members see fit to contribute them. This is the
true plan. "Error may be tolerated if truth be free to combat it. Let
truth and error grapple." This city levies one penny per pound upon the
rates, as authorized by the Libraries act. This nets about four thousand
dollars per annum. Just see what powerful agencies for the improvement
of the people can be set on foot for a trifling sum.
[Sidenote: _A People's Library._]
And do not fail to note that this library, like all others in Britain
organized under the Libraries act, does not pauperize a people. It is no
man's library, but the library of the people--their own, maintained and
paid for by public taxation to which all contribute. An endowed library
is just like an endowed church, at best half and generally wholly
asleep. It is a great mistake to withdraw from such an institution the
healthy breeze of public criticism; besides this, people never
appreciate what is wholly given to them so highly as that to which they
themselves contribute.
Wolverhampton is a go-ahead city (I note a strong Scotch element there).
A fine park, recently acquired and laid out with taste, shows that the
physical well-being of the people is not lost sight of. The
administration of our friend ex-Mayor D. is to be credited with this
invaluable acquisition. Mr. D. took the most prominent part in the
matter, and having succeeded he can consider the park his own estate. It
is not in any sense taken away from him, nor one of its charms lessened,
because his fellow-citizens share its blessings. Indeed as I strolled
through it with him I thought the real sense of ownership must be
sweeter from the thousands of his fellows whom we saw rejoicing within
it than if he were indeed the lordly owner in fee and rented it for
revenue. This whole subject of meum and tuum needs reconsideration. If
Burns, when he held his plough in joy upon the mountain-side and saw
what he saw, felt what he felt, was not more truly the real possessor of
the land than the reputed nominal landlord, then I do not grasp the
subject. There are woeful blunders made as to the ownership of things.
Who owns the treasures of the Sunderland or Hamilton libraries? and who
will shed the tears over their dispersion, think you, chief mourner by
virtue of deepest loss, the titled dis-graces, in whose names they
stand, or the learned librarian whose days have been spent in holy
companionship with them? It is he who has made them his own, drawn them
from their miserable owners into his heart. I tell you a man cannot be
the real owner of a library or a picture gallery without a title from a
much higher tribunal than the law. Nor a horse either, for that matter.
Who owns your favorite horse? Test it! I say the groom does. Call Habeeb
or Roderick. So slow their response! I won't admit they don't know and
like me too. John knows my weakness and stands out of sight and lets me
succeed slowly with them; but after that, see at one word from him how
they prick up their ears and neigh, dance in their boxes, push their
grand heads under his arm, and say as plainly as can be, "This is our
man." I'm only a sleeping partner with John in them after all. It's the
same all through; go to your dogs, or out to your flocks, and see every
sheep, and even the little lambs, the cows with their kind, glowering
eyes, the chickens, and every living thing run from you to throng round
the hand that feeds them. There is no real purchase in money, you must
win friendship and ownership in the lower range of life with kindness,
companionship, love; the coin of the realm is not legal tender with
Trust, or Habeeb, or Brownie, nor with any of the tribe.
[Sidenote: _Sister Dora._]
Let us not forget to chronicle a visit paid to Walsall, the scene of
Sister Dora's labors. It is only seven miles from Wolverhampton in the
very heart of the black country. Dr. T. drove us out to the crowded
smoky town, and we followed him through the hospital and heard from the
officials many interesting stories of that wonderful woman. Our friend
the Doctor also knew her well. She has been known to rush through a
crowd and separate brutal men who were fighting. The most debased of
that ignorant mining and iron manufacturing population seemed under her
influence to an incredible degree; but then her sympathy and her tender
devotion to every human being in distress were no doubt the secret of
her power. A desperate case was brought into the hospital late one
night. The physicians pronounced his recovery hopeless, but Sister Dora
was not satisfied; indeed, she seemed to feel instinctively that the
man had still a chance. She told the physicians to leave him, as she
felt that they could do little good after they had given up hope, and
took charge of the case herself. She told the poor wretch that she was
going to stand by him all night and bring him through; and having faith
herself she inspired it in the patient, and the result was that she
actually saved the man's life. Here is the very material for a saint.
Had this occurred a few generations ago, or were it to occur in some
parts of Italy to-day, Saint Dora would surely be added to the calendar,
and why not! Let us dispute over the miraculous and supernatural as we
may, who will deny that the faith of this noble woman and the faith
transmitted from her sympathetic heart to the poor sufferer were the
foundation upon which his recovery was built up?
This incident gave rise to a discussion upon the coach one day as to the
influence of faith in one's ability to do certain things affecting the
result. The man who goes in to win may win: the one who goes in to lose
can't win. So far all were agreed. Some of our party were disposed to
lament the lack of faith which characterizes this age. "There are no
Abrahams now-a-days," said one. "What would you do, Tom, if you should
receive a message commanding you to offer up your son upon the altar?"
"Well," said Tom, who was a telegraph operator in his early days, "I
think I should first ask to have that message repeated." All right. So
would we all of us. Still there is a wide province for faith. If it does
not exactly remove mountains now a days, it at least enables us to
tunnel them, which is much the same thing as far as practical results
are concerned.
[Sidenote: _English Hospitality._]
We can tell you nothing of the hotels of Wolverhampton, but the fourteen
of us can highly recommend certain quarters where it was our rare
privilege to be honored guests. Whether the English eat and drink more
than the Americans may be a debatable question, but they certainly do so
oftener. The young ladies quartered at Newbridge reported this the only
bar to perfect happiness; they never wanted to leave the garden for
meals nor to remain so long at table. As the Prima Donna reported, they
"just sound a gong and _spring_ luncheons and teas and suppers on you."
The supper is an English institution, even more sacred than the throne,
and destined to outlive it. You cannot escape it, and to tell the truth,
after a little you have no wish to do so. There is much enjoyment at
supper, and in Scotland this is the toddy-time, and who would miss that
hour of social glee!
Mention must be made of the private theatricals at Merridale and of the
amateur concert at Clifton House, both highly creditable to the talented
performers and productive of great pleasure to the guests. I find a
programme of the latter and incorporate it as part of the record:
[Illustration: Clifton House, Wolverhampton,]
JUNE 29TH, 1881.
Programme of Music]
PIANOFORTE DUET "Oberon" _Rene Favayer_
Misses A. J. B. and A. C. B.
SONG "Twenty-one" _Molloy_
Miss S. D.
SONG "The Raft" _Pinsuti_
Mr. B. P.
LADIES' TRIO "O Skylark, for thy wing" _Smart_
The Misses B. and Miss D.
SONG "A Summer Shower" _Marziales_
Miss D.
SONG "The Better Land" _Cowen_
Miss M. B.
SONG "The Lost Chord" _Sullivan_
Miss P.
PIANOFORTE SOLO "La Cascade" _Pauer_
Miss A. D.
SONG "Let me dream again" _Sullivan_
Miss R.
SONG "The Diver" _Loder_
Mr. A. B.
SONG "My Nannie's awa'" ----
Miss J. J.
DUET "When the Wind blows in from the Sea" _Smart_
Miss M. B. and Mr. B. P.
SONG "For ever and for ever" _Paolo Tosti_
Miss A. J. B.
SONG "The Boatswain's Story" _Molloy_
Mr. B. P.