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Bertha Cushing Child | ROSABELLE TEMPLE TEACHER OF SINGING TEACHER OF SINGING
114 MOUNT VERNON STREET 583 BEACON STREET, BOSTON
Telephone, Haymarket 2447 Telephone, 1507 Back Bay
Miss EDITH B. DALTON Bessie Talbot Salmon
SOPRANO Concert Soprano Teacher of Voice TEACHER of SINGING English. French. German, and Italian Diction 201 CLARENDON STREET, Room 6. BOSTON ROOM 38 - - SYMPHONY CHAMBERS 999 WALNUT STREET, NEWTON HIGHLANDS Telephone, Newton South 944-1
MISS HELEN GOODRICH | ETHEL. DAMON CLARK
TEACHER OF SINGING CONCERT PIANIST
SOPRANO SOLOIST Vocal Instruction TEACHER OF SINGING STUDIO ..., F 609 PIERCE BUILDING | STUDIO, 7 STEINERT HALL, BOSTON
Miss Sally E. Turner | JANE RUSSELL COLPITT
SOPRANO PIANIST AND TEACHER WOCAL TEACHER 605 HUNTINGTON CHAMBERS, BOSTON Room 618 . - Huntington Chambers Residence, East Street, Sharon Edmund J. Myer Method Telephone, Sharon 46-ll
L U C Y D E A N Child-Garden Music School
Piano, Harmony and Normal Work
PIANIST and TEACHER IDA. B. SHAY, Principal
Classes in Kindergarten Music
4 16. MARLBOROUGH STREET Studio, 405 Huntington Chambers :: Boston Wednesdays and Saturdays
TELEPHONE, BACK BAY 3020 RESIDENCE, 1390 Beacon Street, Brookline Pianoforte Instruction | H E N R Y F. G. I. L. BERT ARTH U R G E RS COMPOSER
TEACHER OF HARMONY,
Formerly pupil *ś of Brussels. Belgium COMPOSITION, ORCHESTRATION
Also Organist and Accompanist STUDIO. 12 ELLERY ST., CAMBRIDGE HUNTINGTON CHAMBERS BOSTON Near Harvard Square
Messrs. Steinway & Sons,
The supreme qualities of your instruments have been for many years universally recognized. Public and individuals, amateurs and artists have been looking upon your pianos as upon a standard of perfection. Whenever perfection is attained progress is stopped, for there is no room for climbing when the summit has been reached. And yet, in your case, this law of nature seems to have been defied. Having played Steinway pianos, after a long interval, in many concerts, during a season of unusually sudden and unfavorable climatic and atmospheric changes, I feel obliged to declare, and I do it most emphatically, that you have realized an astonishing progress. To the former qualities, now magnified, intensified, you have added an entirely new one, a quality which has been considered unimportant, superfluous, almost incompatible with the character of tone: an easy, light, surprisingly agreeable action. In former years I had to select my pianos before every tour; I used to go repeatedly to 14th Street to try most carefully the instruments, and my choice invariably fell upon those two or three which were considered of the best ones by the makers themselves. This time it was quite different. Before beginning my tour I went only once to Steinway's warehouse; I tried an amazingly large quantity of instruments, dozens of concert grands, and I could not make a choice; I could not select the few best ones because all were best. Is there anything which could demonstrate more convincingly the wealth of resources of your firm, the astonishing vitality of your house? But there is in it something to rejoice the heart of everyone who is devoted to his profession. Young men inherit fame and fortune, general respect and universal recognition most legitimately acquired by the genius, industry and honest, persistent labor of their illustrious forefathers. Instead of simply enjoying life, instead of dwelling passively upon the golden ancestral laurels, they concentrate in noble, ambitious efforts all their energy and up they go to a higher plane and, indeed, they reach still higher regions. Such a thing can only be accomplished by a sincere love of profession, and it is to this love of profession that I wish to pay my tribute of high esteem and admiration.
Most faithfully yours,
I. J. PADEREWSKI. New York, May 4, 1914.
A highly artistic fac-simile of the above letter in Mr. Paderewski's own handwriting, with a most excellent portrait of the great artist, will be mailed upon request. Steinway & Sons, Steinway Hall, 107-109 East 14th Street, New York.
old in Italy” symphony viola); D'Indy, fantasia for oboe and or
of demand on the attention of hearers. The first calls for a long period of listen
It is the very voice of reverie. the pipe they played in Arcadia when they wanted to meditate: not the one
SYMPHONY HALL–Seventeenth o rehearsal of the Boston, Symp onestra, Karl olā. o of March 12. The program : "Beethoven, andante from seventh symphony (in memo
riam John Chipman Gray); Berlioz, "Har(Mr. Ferir, solo
op. 31 (Mr. Longy, “Academic” overture.
soloist); The Berlioz. symphony was performed with a delicacy of shading and an elegance of execution that were delightfully in keeping with the subject-matter. The D'Indy number was an admirable effort on the part of the soloist, but only a professionally correct one on the part of the accompanying forces. The Brahms selection was a lively dash down stairs and a lusty greeting to the playground by boys at the last ring of the school bell. The “Harold” symphony and the folk tune fantasia did not prove altogether companionable. They are indeed both from the French repertory, and they are by two of the greatest composers the Parisians have ever produced. They may be regarded, therefore, as having a desirable unity. Further to their advantage as side-by-side pieces in a program, they represent two epochs far apart, and thus offer a plausible historic contrast. But over against these favorable arguments from unity and contrast, is to be placed the more weighty and unfavorable argument from monotony. For they are both solo pieces, and they both make very nearly the same kind
ing to the somber-toned viola; the sec
ond calls for a period of listening to the plaintive-voiced oboe.
Now there can hardly be named a sound that expresses more effectually that early nineteenth century mood which we call sentimentalism than the C string of the viola. If there had been at the command of Berlioz a more potent means of describing the *tie hungerings of the thirties than the low register of this instrument, we may be sure he would have found it. And as for the sound of the oboe, the solo instrument in the D'Indy fantasia, there exists none more aloof and disdainful. It is
they blew, we may be sure, when the shepherds and shepherdesses danced. Sentimentalism for three quarters of an hour and melancholy contemplation for a quarter of an hour, make a doubtful emotional scheme for a symphony concert. |
But an ideal program is not to be expected when the orchestra is packing up for a tour. If the seventeenth pair of concerts is a scramble to complete a repertory for the trip to New York and the other great cities of the southerm monthly trip, there is no reason for carping. It is to the interest of the subscribers and the community at large that the orchestra go prepared for its last visits of the season and that it does itself credit while away. In a remarka
be way this organization maintains its
preeminence, when many similar organizations, with ever growing financial and artistic resources are in the field against it. If the programs are sometimes strangely made, it is a felicitous condition of affairs that they are just what the conductor finds it convenient or advantageous to make them and not what some rule of a governing board requires them to be. The great pleasure of the concert was the reading of the symphony. Every man in the orchestra entered into the feeling of Berlioz, the revolutionary of three quarters of a century ago, who still seems a rebel, though his formulas are in themselves no longer startling. Wonderfully persuasive is the orchestration of the “Harold in Italy,” even if unconvincing are its programmatic efforts. It seems strange that Berlioz, with all his determination to lead the romanticists to victory, did not find some way to be more original in his harmonic scheme. Like Weber, he seems to have thought that Mozart, and Beethoven had taken harmonic exploration as far as it could go, and so he had to express his fervid sighings in melody and instrumental color alone. He was a most attractive hero as the soloist and the field presented him. Dr. Muck probably ought to have the credit of the delightful reading of the work, but it really appeared as though the players did the thing themselves and that the conductor and his baton had no part in it.