jS^m^;^.^;m^ 
 
 R,O0t 
 
CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME 
 OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT 
 FUND GIVEN IN 1 89 1 BY 
 
 HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE 
 
 MUSIC 
 
Cornell University Library 
 ML 410.R767 
 
 The story of a musical life.An autoblpgr 
 
 3 1924 022 255 784 
 
The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022255784 
 
THE STORY 
 
 OF 
 
 A MUSICAL LIFE 
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 BY 
 
 GEO. F. ROOT. 
 
 CINCINNATI : 
 PUBLISHEDBY THE JOHN CHURCH CO. 74W. 4thSt. 
 
 Chicago .New York 
 
 Root & Sons Music Co. The John Church Co. 
 
 200 Wabash Ave. 13 East i6th St. 
 
Copyright, 1891, by The John Church Co. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 OCTOBER I, 1888, was the fiftieth anniversary of my 
 leaving home to commence my musical life. On 
 that occasion we had a family gathering, at which were 
 commenced the series of narrations which have grown 
 into this book. 
 
 They were mostly written in 1889, and that will ac- 
 count for the mention of the names of some people who 
 have died since that time. 
 
 Special prominence could have been given in this work 
 to the orderly arrangement of such musical statistics and 
 items of musical history as come within its scope, but 
 such a plan would have interfered with my story, as such, 
 so those matters have been allowed to come in as wanted, 
 without reference to their chronological order. 
 
 I do not like the appearance of self-praise that I have 
 to assume while recording in this book certain sayings 
 and events which refer to myself and my career. I hope 
 the reader will see that my story would not be complete 
 without them, and on that ground excuse the apparent 
 egotism. O. F. R. 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 1820-1838— Birth— Leaving Home— Harmony Hall— First Piano 
 Lessons— Early Musical Conditions— Two Tunes for Prayer 
 Meeting— The Odeon, .... ... 3 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 1838-1839, Boston— My First Pupil— A New Bargain— The Flute 
 Club— First Voice Lessons— Some of the Prominent Teach- 
 ers, Authors, and Concert Performers of Early Days — David 
 and Goliath — Some Remarks about Simple Music — My First 
 Singing Class— Mr. Woodbury— My Venerable Pupil from 
 Maine— The " Old Corner Bookstore," . . .' . .13 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 1S40-1844, Boston— Partnership— First Efforts as Organist and 
 Choir Leader — The First Teaching of Music in Public 
 Schools — ^The Teachers' Class of the Boston Academy of 
 Music and my First Efforts at Vocal Training in Classes — 
 The Old Marlboro' and my Unintentional Critic — Bowdoin 
 St. Choir and my Intentional Critic — Boston's First Boat 
 Club— Call to New York 24 
 
 CHAPTER rv. 
 1844-1847, New York — Abbott's School for Young Ladies — Rut- 
 gers Female Institute — Miss Haines' School — The Union 
 Theological Seminary — The New York Institution for the 
 Blind and the Mercer St. Presbyterian Church — My Meut- 
 riage — My Quartet and Performance at the Philharmonic — 
 Summer Convention Work with Messrs. Mason and Webb — 
 Mr. Jacob Abbott's Advice about the Way to Keep a Diary, . 37 
 
vi TABLB OF CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 1848- 1849, New York — Spingler Institute— Adding Difficulties to 
 the Musical Work of my Classes — Reference to Dr. Mason's 
 First " Singing School " — Mj First Efforts at Composition 
 and Book-making — Different Musical Grades — Jenny Lind, 49 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 1850-1851, New York and Paris — Getting Ready for a Trip 
 Abroad— The Voyage —Arrival in Paris — A Few Words on 
 the Study of a Foreign Language — The Singing at the 
 Madeleine — Lessons from Alary and Potharst — A Musical 
 Compatriot — Gottschalk — Memorable Concerts, . 58 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 1851, Paris and London — Fourth of July — The Conversational 
 Mode of Learning French, and the Romance that Followed 
 — Two Concerts at Exeter Hall, London — The Loyalty of the 
 English to Old Favorites— The First World's Exposition — 
 American Friends— The McCormick Reaper— The Sewing 
 Machine — The Day & Newell "Lock- The Yacht America — 
 The Narrow Escape on the Home Voyage, . . . .69 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 1851-1853, New York — "The Flower Queen" and the First 
 " Rose ■'— " Wurzel " and " The Hazel Dell "—My Best Piano 
 Pupil— The First Normal Musical Institute — " Daniel " and 
 Early Books— The New House at Willow Farm, and the 
 Singing in the Village Church— My First Musical Conven- 
 tion—The Value of a Specialty— The Old Violin— Early Or- 
 chestras .... 81 
 
 CHAPTER rx. 
 
 1853-1855, New York— A Frank Statement— Geniuses in Music— 
 " The Shining Shore "—Early Books— The First American- 
 made Doctor of Music— Early Conventions at Richmond, Va., 
 and in the West— Preparing to Leave New York— How the 
 " Normal " went to North Reading, .... 95 
 
TABI,E OF CONTENTS. Vll 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 1856-1859, North Reading, Mass.— A Great School in a Small 
 Town — A Visit from Henry Ward Beecher and Mrs. Stowe — 
 Nathan Richardson and " Rosalie, The Prairie Flower " — 
 Writing at Willow Farm— "The Haymakers"— The Begin- 
 ning of Ear Training in Classes, for Harmony — " Except Ye 
 Become as Little Children " — Distinguished Visitors— Rela- 
 tive Profits of Cantata Maker and Cantata Giver — Composi- 
 tions as Property 107 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 1859-1861, North Reading and Chicago — Prominent Members of 
 the Normal Institute — ^Writing at Willow Farm — Our Simple 
 Music in England— Root and Cady — The Currency — The 
 Greater the Refinement, the Smaller the Coin— Chicago in 
 1858 — The " Cameraderie " in a New Country — Conventions 
 on the Prairie— Land Sharks — First Organ Book — The First 
 Gun of the War, 120 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 1861-1870, Chicago — Writing the War Songs — Some Incidents 
 Concerning Them— Henry C. Work— P. P. Bliss— " The Song 
 Messenger of the Northwest "—The Origin of " Tramp "— 
 Growth of Business— James R. Murray and " Daisy Deane '' 
 — B. R. Hanby— Caryl Florio— Dr. Mason's Last Normal— 
 The Normal at South Bend, Ind.— The Origin of " National 
 Normal "—Carlo Bassini, 132 
 
 CHAPTER Xm. 
 
 1871-1873, Chicago— The Health Lift and the Astonished Piano 
 Movers — The Gigantic Lottery Scheme — Our Successful 
 Publications, including Dr. Palmer's and Mr. Bliss's Early 
 Works— Heavy Stock — The Great Fire — My Green Box- 
 Mr. Curwen's Gift — New Business Arrangements — The Nor- 
 mal of '72— The Sad Telegram, 148 
 
Vlll TABI,B OF CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 1873-1886, Chicago — Business Re-adjustments — Various Normal 
 Institutes and Conventions — The Memorable Centennial 
 Year — Park Church at Elmira— Grasshoppers — A Further 
 List of Books — English Editions — Passage Taken to Cross 
 the Water Again, 160 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 On Board the Steamer Ethiopia — Glasgow— First Sunday in 
 London — St. Martin's-in-the-Fields — Interludes — The Lon- 
 don Sunday-School Union — The Curwens — Voluntary Roy- 
 alties — Heme House — Mr. Evans and the London Public 
 Schools 170 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 The Work of the Tonic-sol-fa College — Mr. Behnke's Light to 
 the Throat — England and Dickens — The Boys of the Med- 
 way Union — Don — The Staffordshire Potteries and the Burs- 
 lem Singers — Epping Forest and the Lawn Party at Forest 
 Gate — Rev. John Curwen's Grave — The Choir of the Chapel 
 Royal — Mr. J. A. Birch and " Th^ Haymakers," . . . 177 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 The Parish Church — Traditional Chanting — The " Swanley Boys " 
 — The Hall of Parliament — A Reception on Mr. Curwen's 
 Lawn— Forty Conductors — The British Museum — A Musical 
 Catalogue — One of the London " Choirs" — The South Lon- 
 don Choral Institute — Dr. AUon's Church at Islington — My 
 Sixty-sixth Birthday — The Crystal Palace and "Autumn 
 Winds "—The Concert on the City of Rome 188 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIL 
 
 Home Again— The "Pillar of Fire" and Other Cantatas— The 
 Idea of "Cantatas for the People" — Mr. and Mrs. J. S. Cur- 
 wen's Visit to America — "War Song" Concerts — The Loyal 
 Legion — The Usual History of Musical Societies — How 
 " The Haymakers " Helped Out — Family Matters, " Roots 
 and Branches"— The Hyde Park Yacht Club and the Sum- 
 njer Congregation on the Lake, 200 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS. ix 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 The John Church Co.— The Principals of the House— Their 
 Homes— Ancestral Descent — The Memorable Celebration at 
 the Hyde Park High-School— Mr. John Church's Death- 
 Preparations for the World's Columbian Exposition — My 
 Piano Trade — My Seventieth Birthday — Fale .' . . . 208 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Books, 223 
 
 Sheet Music ... 225 
 
 MUSIC. 
 
 Slumber Sweetly, Dearest, 228 
 
 A Voice from the I^ake, . 229 
 
 I Will Lay Me Down in Peace, .... . 232 
 
 There Is a Stream, 233 
 
 The Hazel Dell, 234 
 
 Rosalie, the Prairie Flower, . 237 
 
 The Battle Cry of Freedom 240 
 
 Just Before the Battle, Mother, 243 
 
 Tramp! Tramp! Tramp! 246 
 
 The Vacant Chair 250 
 
 There's Music in the Air, 253 
 
 The Shining Shore, 256 
 
THE STORY 
 OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 182O-1838 — BIRTH — LEAVING HOME — HARMONY HALL — FIRST 
 PIANO LESSONS — EARLY MUSICAL CONDITIONS — TWO TUNES 
 FOR PRAYER-MEETING — THE ODEON. 
 
 I WAS borti in Sheffield, Mass., August 30, 1820, but my 
 father moved to North Reading, not far from Boston, 
 when I was six years old, and there my. youth was spent. 
 
 I was always very fond of music — not singing at all as a 
 boy, but playing a little upon every musical instrument that 
 came in my way. At thirteen I figured that I could " play 
 a tune " upon as many instruments as I was years old. 
 Such an achievement in the light of to-day looks entirely 
 insignificant, but in our isolated village, and in those days, it 
 was regarded as something rather wonderful. There was a 
 chronic curiosity in the village choir as to what instrument 
 the boy would play upon next. 
 
 The dream of my life was to be a mtisician. I did not 
 know exactly what kind, or how to get started. I thought, 
 perhaps, I could make a beginning as second flute in some 
 
 3 
 
4 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL I^IFE. 
 
 theater orchestra. It wasn't reputable, I knew (as people 
 regarded the matter then), and relatives and friends were all 
 opposed to it. Indeed, any line of music, as a business, in 
 those days was looked down upon, especially by the more 
 religious and respectable portion of the community. So I 
 knew I should have to fight my way. I ought to except 
 my mother. It was either an unaccountable faith in my 
 abiUty to succeed, or so much love in her tender heart that 
 she could not bear to thwart me, and she said, " Go, my son, 
 if you find the opportunity; I'll get along in some way." 
 I knew well what that meant — my father and the brother 
 next younger than myself being both in South America, and 
 six younger children to care for — hard times certain — pos- 
 sibly privation; but I had the hardihood of the inexperi- 
 enced youngster that I was, and said, " Mother, just let me 
 get a start and you shall never want for anything." I thank 
 the I/ord that I was able to make that promise good. 
 
 But to go on with my story : During the summer of 
 1838 a member of Mr. A. N. Johnson's choir in Boston spent 
 a few weeks in our village. She had a great deal to say in 
 praise of her teacher as leader and organist, and of his great 
 success as the conductor of the Musical Education Society, 
 to which she also belonged. She described Harmony Hall, 
 on Tremont Row, where the society met and where Mr. 
 Johnson taught, and enlarged generally upon musical mat- 
 ters in that connection until I thought it would be heaven 
 on earth to be in the midst of such opportunities. I did not 
 see how that could ever happen for me, but it did. 
 
 Just after the departure of this much-envied member of a 
 Boston choir, a neighbor (a young man a few years older 
 than myself) invited me to go with him to a little town near 
 Worcester, where, as I afterward ascertained, some negotia- 
 tions of a particular and very interesting nature to him were 
 pending. These, I am happy to say, terminated to his entire 
 satisfaction. 
 
THE STORY OP A- MXTSICAI, LIFE. 5- 
 
 That journey was to me also a very important event. 
 The only railroad going west from Boston then, ended at 
 Worcester. The hardy traveler who would go farther in 
 that direction must climb hills and descend into valleys and 
 wind along by the streams in the old-fashioned stage-coach. 
 It was my first railroad ride, and the luxury of it, and the 
 wonder of it, I shall never forget. 
 
 On our return, it was owing to what then seemed a seri- 
 ous dilemma that I was enabled so soon to go to Boston to 
 live. My friend must be at home on the morning of a cer- 
 tain day. To accomplish that, we must be driven from the 
 place of our visit to Worcester to take an afternoon train to 
 Boston, where we were to be met and taken to North Read- 
 ing at night. Had that program been carried out I should 
 have gone through Boston without stopping, but in Wor- 
 cester, where we had an hour to wait, my friend went to 
 attend to some matters in which he did not need my com- 
 pany, and I went to the music store, where I became so much 
 absorbed in the instruments and music that when I came to 
 myself the train was gone. There would not be another 
 until the next morning, and I had no money. I was in 
 great trepidation, but soon bethought myself that my mother 
 had a second cousin, who was a theological student, some- 
 where there. So I trudged out to the seminary, and fortu- 
 nately found him. He was very kind — " glad to do anything 
 for a son of cousin Sarah " — so he kept me till morning and 
 then gave me money enough to take me home. It is unac- 
 countable that I did not think at the time of that money 
 as anjrthing to be returned. I suppose I associated it with 
 supper, lodging and breakfast as a matter of hospitality, and 
 soon the whole affair passed from my mind. It was per- 
 haps twenty years afterward, on hearing my mother speak 
 of " Cousin Edwin " and his ministry, that I recalled the 
 event, and then came a realizing sense of my delinquency. 
 
6 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< I<IPE. 
 
 It did not take long to figure double compound interest on 
 the amount he gave me, and send him the money. 
 
 On my way to Boston I determined to call on Mr. John- 
 son at Harmony Hall, and see if, by any possibility, there 
 could be an opening for me there. How well I remember 
 ascending the stairs, and knocking at the door. How well 
 I remember the somewhat astonished countenance of the 
 blonde gentleman who let me in. What he said afterward 
 of that interview, not being very complimentary either to 
 my personal appearance or my modesty, I omit, but he did 
 happen to want some one to stay in the room while he was 
 out — to see to the fires and the general order of the place, to 
 answer questions about his engagements, and to make him- 
 self generally useful, and he said I might come. He ques- 
 tioned me as to what I could do. Could I sing? No. Could 
 I play at all upon the piano? No. I had seen the key- 
 board of piano or organ but a few times in my life, but I 
 could play the flute pretty well, and some other instruments 
 a little. Well, the first thing would be to learn to play the 
 piano, and I could practice while he was out, which was most 
 of the time, as the private lessons he then gave were nearly 
 all at the houses of his pupils. I could board at his house, 
 and he would for the present give me three dollars a week 
 beside. This was munificent. Three dollars was a great 
 deal of money. If I could get fitted out with suitable clothes 
 I could save some of my " salary " from the very start, and I 
 knew well what I wanted to do with it. 
 
 I have thought many times since how extraordinary it 
 was in Mr. Johnson to take me as he did, for, from his own 
 representation, I could not have been a very promising sub- 
 ject. I do not understand it now, but am glad to think that 
 I could, and did, in some measure, repay his kindness to a 
 friendless boy in the immediate years which followed. 
 
 On my way home from Boston, in the old stage-coach. 
 
THB STORY OP A MUSICAL LIFB. 7 
 
 after the interview and agreement with. Mr. Johnson, I was 
 in another world. The ride in the wonderful cars was noth- 
 ing to this. That was on iron rails, this was in the golden 
 air. Thtf dusty old towns through which we passed were 
 beautiful as never before ; even the mulleins by the wayside 
 were transformed into more gorgeous flowers than ever 
 bloomed in garden or conservatory. How often had I felt 
 cramped in the limited surroundings and opportunities of 
 the old home. How many times I have walked, after the 
 day's work was over, through dreary forest roads, to neigh- 
 boring towns- to exercise my musical powers with some 
 embryo performer like myself, or, late " in the stilly night," 
 as a lone serenader, unknown, unexpected and unchallenged, 
 to breathe my sighs for freedom through the old four-keyed 
 flute. But no more of this. I was going where the air was 
 filled with music, and pent-up desires and ambitions could 
 have unlimited freedom. 
 
 There was great excitement when I reached home. I 
 was really going to Boston to study music — must be at my 
 post on the first day of the next month. On the strength 
 of my prospects I borrowed a little money of my grand- 
 mother for an outfit, and went around telling the good news 
 to interested and sympathizing neighbors. All met me with 
 good words. "Go ahead!" they said; "we'll lend a hand 
 on the farm if we're needed." They believed in me music- 
 ally, and as for my mother there was not a person in the 
 town who would not do her a kindness if he had the oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 At last the important first day of October arrived. I 
 wheeled my trunk down the willow lane to the main road, 
 about a quarter of a mile (our place was called "Willow 
 Farm"), to wait for the old stage-coach that lumbered bj'^ 
 every morfiing on its way to the city. An hour passed 
 and no stage. I forget how I found out that it had been 
 
8. THE STORY OP A MUSICAL r,IFE. 
 
 taken off — had made its last journey the day before. The 
 new railroad from lyowell to Boston had taken so many of 
 its passengers that it would no longer pay to run it. But 
 I must get to Boston that day. What was I to do ? Our 
 nearest neighbor, " Uncle Mike," as everybody called him, 
 said : " Why, we'll make that very railroad carry ye there. 
 Old Pete and I'll take ye over to Wilmin'ton, and you'll 
 catch the cars afore night." So Uncle Mike harnessed up 
 and took trunk and me six miles to the new railroad, where, 
 by good fortune, I had not long to wait for a train. Then, 
 with thanks and a good-bye to the old neighbor, I left for 
 aye the old life, and in due time arrived in the city, and at 
 Mr. Johnson's house at the "North End." 
 
 The next morning I commenced the duties and pleasures 
 of my new vocation in Harmony Hall, as Mr. Johnson's 
 music-room was called. This place was leased by the Mu- 
 sical Education Society, but Mr. Johnson had the use of it 
 for conducting the society once a week. It was a light, 
 cheerful room, up one flight of stairs ; a platforth, with a 
 piano on it at one end, and a little curtained office, with a 
 desk, at the other. After being told what my duties in re- 
 gard to fires and care of room would be, I went with eager- 
 ness to the piano for my first lesson. The idea of calling it 
 drudgery — this making musical sounds upon a pianoforte — 
 nothing could be more absurd, as it seemed to me. It was 
 a delight, even though my large, clumsy fingers would go 
 right in the simplest exercises of Hunten's Instruction book 
 only by the most laborious practice. But that was cheerfully 
 given. Every minute when Mr. Johnson was out, or when 
 I was not answering a call at the door, I was at work, and 
 during Mr. Johnson's lessons in the room, while I was out 
 of sight at the curtained desk, I was tr5ang to get some flexi- 
 bility into my stubborn fingers, while looking over some 
 music-book. I had learned to read the notes of simple 
 
THS STOKY Q-B- A\ MUSICAI, LIFE: 9 
 
 music both on treble and base staffs by the various instru- 
 ments I had played. 
 
 When I say I had never sung, I do not mean that I had 
 never used my voice at all in that way. I had occasionally 
 joined in the base of simple church tunes, but was never 
 encouraged by listeners to continue my performances long, 
 or to make them prominent. It was always : — " George, 
 you'd better take your flute." But Mr. Johnson said that 
 if I was going to teach I ought to be able to use my voice 
 correctly, and sing at least enough to give examples of tone 
 and' pitch. I dare say he saw then, what I realized after 
 awhile, that I had begun too late to make much of a player 
 upon piano or organ, and that if I developed any gift for 
 teaching, my success must be in singing-classes and other 
 vocal work. So I went at it. I sang in the Musical Edu- 
 cation Society and in Mr. Johnson's choir at the Odeon, and 
 often growled a base to my five-finger exercises while prac- 
 ticing. 
 
 But here I ought to say something about the condition 
 of music in our part of the country in those days. Not 
 many years before, a singing-school had been held in the 
 old red school-house, where " faw, sol, law, faw, sol, law, me, 
 faw," were the syllables for the scale — where one must find 
 the "me note" (seven) to ascertain what key he was sing- 
 ing in, and where some of the old "fuguing tunes," as they 
 were called, were still sung. I well remember how, shortly 
 after, we heard that a new system of teaching music had 
 been introduced into Boston, in which they used a black- 
 board and sang "do, re, mi," etc., to the scale. But how 
 silly "do" sounded. We thought it smart to say that the 
 man who invented that was a dougA-head, and how flat were 
 /a and la, in comparison with the dignified " faw " and " law." 
 Later, however, when some tunes connected with the new 
 movement came, we changed our minds about the man who 
 
lO THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 was at the head of it. Nothing before, so heavenly, had 
 been heard as the melody to " Thus far the Lord hath led 
 me on " (Hebron) ; and one of the great things in going to 
 Boston was that I should probably see LowELL Mason. 
 
 It is an interesting fact that some music, at every grade, 
 from lowest to highest, has in it that mysterious quality 
 which makes it live, while all the rest fades away and is for- 
 gotten. Sometimes I think the more we know the less 
 keen are our perceptions in regard to that divine afflatus. 
 We understand better the construction of the music we 
 hear, but do not feel, as in more unsophisticated states, the 
 thrill of that mysterious life — at least I do not, and I put it 
 forth as a possibly true theory in general, because every 
 tune that produced that enchanting effect upon me then, 
 lives in the hearts of the people now, while those that did 
 not have dropped out of use. 
 
 Certain it is, if music writers and publishers could know 
 of every composition whether it had in it that mysterious 
 vitality or not, there would be far less music issued, for but 
 few musical compositions in proportion to the number print- 
 ed have in them the elements even of a short life. ^ 
 
 I worked steadily at my piano lessons, and got on well, 
 considering the obstacles I had to overcome in my grown- 
 up hands. But piano playing was not then what it is now, 
 by a difference that it would be hard to describe. A piano 
 in a country town was a rarity, and a person even in Boston 
 who could play as well as hundreds of young people all 
 over the country now play, would have attracted universal 
 attention. 
 
 I think I could not have been practicing more than two 
 weeks before Mr. Johnson started me in the playing of 
 chords by the method that has since been so well known 
 under the name of Johnson's Thorough Base. By this 
 means I was to learn to play Hebron and Ward and Ham- 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAL LIFE. II 
 
 burg and Boylston, and all those tunes that had moved me 
 as no music had ever done before. I need not say that I 
 worked with a will, but I remember well that I was in a 
 chronic state of astonishment that my hands would not do 
 what I saw so clearly should be done, and that I must play 
 a succession of chords over so many, many times before 
 they would go without a hitch. 
 
 It was not long after this that Mr. Johnson said to me 
 one day; " I wish you would learn two of those tunes to 
 play at the Wednesday night prayer-meeting." " What ! play 
 for the people to sing?" " Yes ; you can do it; you need not 
 play the tune through first; just play the first chord, and 
 then start, and they'll all go with you. It will be all the 
 more sure if you sing the first word or two." " But I shall 
 make some mistakes, I'm afraid." "Well, if you do they 
 won't be noticed." " But I may run against a stump and 
 stop." "Well, they'll go on, and you can catch up at your 
 leisure." Talk about courage ! I mean on Mr. Johnson's part. 
 He would take more and greater risks of that sort than any 
 man I ever knew. But he knew I would strain every nerve 
 to accomplish what he wished, and he always said he could 
 rely on my — I think " self-confidence" was the term he used, 
 but there is a much shorter word now coming into our vo- 
 cabulary which would perhaps have expressed his meaning 
 more forcibly. However, I went through it, and after that, 
 for some months, prepared my two tunes every week for the 
 prayer-meeting. 
 
 This church arrangement was peculiar. It was a Con- 
 gregational church, under the pastoral care of Rev. Wm. M. 
 Rogers, then one of the most popular clergymen of Boston. 
 Its services were held in what had been the Federal St. The- 
 ater (corner of Federal and Franklin Streets), but was .now 
 called the " Odeon." It was owned or leased by a new or- 
 ganization called the "Boston Academy of Music," and used 
 
12 THE- STORY- OF A HUSICAL LTFE. 
 
 exclusively by that association and this Congregational 
 church. It had been somewhat remodeled; though it had 
 still the theater look. The stage was fitted with raised seats 
 for a large chorus. There was a large organ at the back, 
 and a conductor's platform in front, occupied on Sundays by 
 the minister's pulpit. Lowell Mason was at the head of the 
 Boston Academy of Music, and the conductor of its large 
 chorus, and George James Webb was the organist, but on 
 Sundays Mr. Johnson was the organist, and his choir the 
 performers. The prayer-meetings were held in a long room 
 over the front entrance, called " The Saloon." I don't think 
 that word was then used at all as the name of a drinking 
 place. It had more the signification of drawing-room or 
 parlor. I don't know how it came to be applied to that 
 little hall, but as I remember the notices, they would sound 
 strangely now : — "The Sunday-school after service in the 
 saloon; " "The ladies' meeting Tuesday afternoon in the sa- 
 loon;" "The pray ex-meeting Wednesday evening in the sa- 
 loon; " and there we had our choir rehearsals, and later, sing- 
 ing classes, so that in those days that word became con- 
 nected in my mind with all that was "pure and lovely and 
 of good report," instead of bearing the bad signification 
 which attaches to it now. 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 13 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 1838-1839, BOSTON — MY FIRST PUPIL — A NEW BARGAIN — THE 
 FLUTE CLUB — FIRST VOICE LESSONS — SOME OP THE PROM- 
 INENT TEACHERS, AUTHORS, AND CONCERT PERFORMERS 
 OF EARLY DAYS — DAVID AND GOLIATH — SOME REMARKS 
 ABOUT SIMPLE MUSIC — MY FIRST SINGING CLASS — MR. 
 WOODBURY — MY VENERABLE PUPIL FROM MAINE — THE 
 "OLD CORNER BOOKSTORE." 
 
 I DO not think it could have been more than six weeks 
 from my beginning with Mr. Johnson that I had an- 
 other surprise. One day a young man called to inquire 
 about taking lessons upon the piano. He was a mechanic 
 — an apprentice to a jeweler I think. Mr. Johnson asked 
 him if he could play at all. No, he knew nothiil^ about 
 music whatever. Mr. Johnson reflected a moment and then 
 said, as if it were the result of very serious and important 
 deliberation : " I think my assistant here, Mr. Root, would 
 be best adapted to your case." My astonishment was un- 
 bounded, but if this young man knew nothing I was a little 
 ahead of him, and it would be a delight to help him over the 
 road I had just traveled. That was my first pupil, and what 
 I lacked in experience I made up in good will and attention. 
 At any rate he was well satisfied, as I had good reason to 
 know afterward. It was not long before others came and 
 inquired for me instead of Mr. Johnson, on account of young 
 Slade's recommendation. 
 
 About this time, certainly not more than seven weeks 
 from the beginning of my connection with Mr. Johnson, he 
 proposed a new bargain. The first had mot been for any 
 
14 THK STORY OF A MUSICAI, I<IFE. 
 
 definite time — we were " to see how we liked," as lie said, 
 but of course the seeing was wholly on his side. He had 
 now evidently made up his mind, and an agreement was 
 made for a year at a very considerable increase in pay. 
 That I was glad and thankful goes without saying. The 
 news flew to the old farm as fast as Uncle Sam's machinery 
 in those days could take it (there was no dream yet for years 
 of telegraph), and at " Thanksgiving," toward the end of 
 November, when I made my first visit home, we had a happy 
 time, as you may imagine. 
 
 About this time Mr. Mason advertised that new mem- 
 bers would be admitted to the Boston Academy's Chorus. 
 Those who wished to join must be at a certain place at a 
 certain time, and have their voices and reading ability 
 tested. Mr. Johnson said I had better go ; that the Acad- 
 emy's work was more dif&cult than that of the Musical Ed- 
 ucation Society, and that the practice would be good for me 
 in every way. I shook in my shoes at the suggestion, but 
 Mr. Johftson's courage was equal to the occasion, and I went. 
 That was my first sight of lyowell Mason, and also of Geo. 
 Jas. Webb, who did the trying of the voices, while Mr. Mason 
 looked on. I passed, and was much surprised when Mr. 
 Mason came to where I was sitting and asked me to join 
 his choir — that famous Bowdoin Street Choir, the like of 
 which has rarely been equaled, in my opinion, in this or any 
 other country. I told him why I could not — that I was 
 with Mr. Johnson, etc., but that invitation settled the voice 
 question in my mind. I was going to sing. lyowell Mason 
 had wanted me in his choir, and that was as good as a war- 
 ranty that I could succeed. 
 
 Meanwhile I did not neglect my flute. I was so well 
 along on that that Mr. Johnson thought something might 
 come of it. So I took some lessons and gave some lessons 
 on that instrument, and some time in the following year I 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 15 
 
 organized a flute club of my pupils and others. There were 
 some pretty good singers in it, a:nd we called it the "Nich- 
 olson Flute and Glee Club." " Nicholson's Flute Instruct- 
 or " was my delight, both for method and music, hence the 
 name. We had music arranged in six parts for our ten 
 flutes. Simon Knaebel, a good orchestra and band musi- 
 cian, I remember, did the arranging. We had marches, 
 quicksteps, waltzes, etc., all simple but popular then. We 
 gave some concerts in the neighboring towns, and on one 
 grand occasion played at some performance in the Odeon, 
 and, what is better, were encored. It was rather absurd to 
 have harmony, the base of which could go no lower than 
 middle C ; but it was a novelty, and to us a source of great 
 enjoyment. 
 
 One important day, soon after my admission to the Bos- 
 ton Academy's Chorus, Mr. Johnson said I had better take 
 some voice lessons of Mr. Webb ; that private voice teach- 
 ing was very profitable, and he thought I could fit myself to 
 do that work. Mr. Johnson never flinched from what he 
 thought I ought to do. I was glad enough, however, to take 
 lessons of Geo. Jas. Webb, the best vocal teacher in Boston, 
 an elegant organist, an accomplished musician, and a model 
 Christian gentleman. He received me with great kindness, 
 and after trying my voice in various ways, gave me some 
 exercises to work upon. At my next lesson, after I had 
 sung what he had before given me to practice, he looked up 
 with an expression of pleased surprise and said: "Well, 
 Mr. Root, I believe you will learn to sing." I replied, "Of 
 course; that is what I fully intend to do." " Ah, but," he re- 
 sponded, " at your first lesson I thought it extremely doubt- 
 ful whether it would be worth your while to try." Of course 
 he had reference to solo singing, and not to joining with 
 the bases in a chorus, which I could then do fairly well. 
 
 My lessons went on with him for months — a year, per- 
 
1 6 fHE STORY OP A MUSICAL UFS. 
 
 haps, and I came not only 1:o delight in them, but in the 
 friendly atmosphere of his pleasant home. I used always to 
 be glad when I could see his little Mary — four or five years 
 old perhaps ; she was so bright and so full of music. Once 
 I remember she came into the teaching room, where I was 
 waiting for my lesson, and said: "Papa will come pretty 
 soon, but I've been to the 'Rainers.' " The Rainers were a 
 family of Swiss Yodlers, the first, I think, to come to this 
 country, and were singing in costume and in their native 
 language their pretty Swiss songs. Everybody went to hear 
 them. "I've been to the Rainers," she went on, as she 
 climbed upon the piano stool, " and wasn't it funny what 
 they said?" Here she piped up with a comical motion of 
 her head, but with accordant tones on the piano : — 
 
 J^ i^ J^ J I ; c c c 
 
 Take a piece a yarn, Take a piece a yarn. 
 
 Mr. Webb, coming in at that moment, laughed and explained 
 that Mary was very fond of giving her imitation of Simon 
 Rainer's manner and her translation of his German. I 
 thought often of this little incident in after years, whUe 
 listening to her splendid rendering of " I know that my 
 Redeemer liveth," or some other oratorio classic, and later, 
 while enjoying her gracious hospitality as the wife of Dr. 
 William Mason, in their lovely home in Orange, New Jersey. 
 Speaking of foreign performers, it was about this time 
 that we heard Herwig, who was, I think, the first really 
 great violinist to come to this country. His harmonic play- 
 ing — making his violin sound like a fine high wind instru- 
 ment, caused great astonishment, and filled his houses to 
 overflowing. It was some years afterward that we heard 
 Vieuxtemps, Sivori, and Ole Bull on his first visit, but Artot 
 came soon after Herwig. About thdt time also came the 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAL LIFE. 1 7 
 
 first pianists that much excelled the best we had heard. Jane 
 Sloman was first, and in a few months Rakemann. They 
 had great success then, but such playing now would be con- 
 sidered only mediocre — I mean as concert playing. Every 
 large city in the country has better players. 
 
 But a matter of greater interest to me was the advent in 
 those days of Braham, who had been for a generation the 
 greatest English tenor. He was an old man, and it was said 
 his voice was not what it had been, but no one who then 
 heard him sing " Thou shalt dash them in pieces like a pot- 
 ter's vessel " probably ever heard anything before or since 
 to compare with his tone upon the word "dash" — so large 
 and at the same time so terrifically intense. Marcus Col- 
 burn, one of our resident tenors, came the nearest to him in 
 power, and would have made as great a singer probably, 
 if he had had the opportunity, for his voice excelled Bra- 
 ham's in a certain sweet and ringing quality. 
 
 That brings to my mind a rather ludicrous scene in 
 which Mr. Colburn and I were chief actors. Mr. Colburn 
 was a giant in size, over six feet in height, and very portly 
 — weighing probably near to three hundred pounds. After I 
 came to be regarded as a promising base singer it came about 
 — I don't remember whether through Mr. Johnson's courage 
 or that of some one else — that I was appointed to sing 
 with Mr. Colburn from Neukomm's Oratorio of " David " the 
 duet between David and Goliath, at a concert at the Odeon. 
 It was absurd enough when we went forward together to 
 begin, for this giant was David, and I, a stripling in compar- 
 ison to him, was Goliath ; but when I had to sing, in the 
 most ponderous tones I could assume, "I can not war with 
 boys," the audience broke out into irrepressible laughter, in 
 which Colburn,' who had the most contagious laugh in the 
 world, joined, and that " broke me all up," as they say now- 
 a-days. We went through our performance, however, though 
 we did not consider it an unqualified success. 
 
1 8 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIPE. 
 
 But the most important event to me, in the way of pub- 
 lic performances, in those days (1839), was the singing of 
 Henry Russell, an English Jew, who composed and sang 
 "The Ivy Green,'" "Our Native Song," "A L,ife on the 
 Ocean Wave," "The Old Sexton," "Wind of the Winter 
 Night," and many other songs of that grade. He had a 
 beautiful baritone voice and great command of the key- 
 board — played his own accompaniments, gave his concerts 
 entirely alone, and in a year in this country made a fortune. 
 Songs of his, like " The Maniac " and "The Gambler's Wife," 
 were exceedingly pathetic, and always made people cry when 
 he sang them. He looked so pitiful and so sympathetic — 
 " he felt every word," as his listeners would think and say 
 — and yet, when he retired to his dressing room, he was said 
 to have been much amused at the grief of his weeping con- 
 stituents, showing that he had not really the heart in his song 
 that he appeared to have. 
 
 Of course it is a part of the singer's art to assume emo- 
 tions that he does not really feel, and that is all right if 
 the emotions he assumes are healthful and good. For in- 
 stance, a man may sing of the delights of a farmer's or a 
 sailor's life in such a way as to make his hearers think he 
 likes that life best, when, in point of fact, he may much 
 prefer some other. But good taste requires that the singer 
 should treat respectfully the emotion he excites. 
 
 I was so taken with Russell's songs that I worked harder 
 than ever before to be able to play and sing them as he did. 
 When the accompaniments were too much for me, or the 
 pitch too high, I modified and simplified and transposed, and 
 in a few months had them at my tongue's and fingers' ends, 
 and I have sung certain of them ever since — more than 
 fifty years. While Russell was in this country, Joseph 
 Philip Knight came over and gave us "Rocked in the 
 Cradle of the Deep," which Russell added to his repertoire^ 
 and I, with certain modifications, to mine. 
 
THi; STORY OP A MUSICAL I^IPE. I9 
 
 This is a good place to speak of the absurdity of saying 
 that simple music keeps the tastes and musical culture of 
 the people down. You might as well say that a person is 
 kept in addition, subtraction, multiplication and division by 
 having around him more examples in elementary arithmetic 
 than he needs. If he is interested in the subject, he'll go on 
 after he has mastered the simpler to that which is more dif- 
 ficult, if the examples or books that he needs are within his 
 reach. You can not keep him in the lower grade by multi- 
 plying elementary books. If he is not interested, or is more 
 occupied with other things, he may never go beyond those 
 elementary mathematics which are needed for the common- 
 duties of life ; but since he can not get higher without going 
 through them, it is useless to put that which is higher before 
 him until they are mastered. 
 
 For a few months Russell's songs filled me with delight. 
 They were just what I needed to help me out of my element- 
 ary condition. Before a year was over they had done their 
 work, and I craved something higher. Schubert's songs 
 came next. Is it supposed for an instant that songs of the 
 Russell grade, had they been multiplied a hundred-fold, 
 would have had any effect in keeping me back, if I could 
 get what I wanted? Certainly not; and Schubert's songs, 
 and others of that grade, were, and are, plenty, and more 
 easily obtained, because, being non-copyright, they are free 
 to all publishers. Those not in music, or not so music- 
 al naturally, do not get through the elementary state so 
 soon; in fact, many business and professional people, giving 
 very little time or thought to the subject, never get through; 
 they prefer the simpler music to the end of their days. But 
 there is no royal road for such. They must get their fill of 
 the simple — must hear it until they crave something higher 
 — before that which is higher can be of any use to them. 
 It is an axiom that emotional or aesthetic benefit by music 
 
20 THE STORY O^ A MUSICAL WFE. 
 
 can come to a person only through music that he likes. By 
 that alone can he grow musically. 
 
 Just as the elementary departments of mathematics are 
 the foundations of that great subject, so tonic, dominant and 
 sub-dominant (the simplest harmonies) are foundations in 
 all music — the highest as well as the lowest. No one de- 
 rides or looks with contempt upon the elements of mathe- 
 matics, or upon the thousand ways by which those simpler 
 things are made interesting to the learner. On the con- 
 trary, the most learned mathematicians appreciate their im- 
 portance and delight in their success. So it should be in 
 our science and art,; and, without apologizing for what is in- 
 correct or untasteful in the simple music of the day, I say, 
 unhesitatingly, that all correct musical forms, however ele- 
 mentary, find some one to whom they are just what is 
 needed, either for practical or aesthetic benefit, or both. 
 Since, therefore, there are always so many grown-up men 
 and women, learned and strcyig in other things, who are 
 still in elementary musical states, I keep, ready for use, the 
 simple songs that helped me, and am always glad to sing 
 them where they will do any good. 
 
 I do not quite remember where my first "singing- 
 school " was taught, but I think an experimental class was 
 held in Harmony Hall during my first winter (1838-9), un- 
 der the guise of helping some young ladies and gentlemen 
 to "read notes," who were desirous of joining the Musical 
 Education Society. I had seen Mr. Johnson teach a few 
 times, but I had no orderly method, and my work must have 
 been exceedingly desultory and crude. Something carried 
 me through, however, and the next autumn I had a large 
 class at the North End, which lasted nearly through the 
 winter, and which, on the closing night, made me very 
 proud and happy by the gift of a silver goblet, suitably en- 
 graved, and which now occupies a place among my treas- 
 ures. 
 
TH:e STORY OF A MUSICAI, I^IPE. 21 
 
 About this time I became acquainted with I. B. Wood- 
 bury. He was two or three years older than myself, and 
 had commenced his musical work a year or two before me. 
 He had a small room, also, in Tremont Row. He was a 
 most indefatigable student and worker. I think it was dur- 
 ing my first winter in Boston that he taught a singing-school 
 in Beverly, and often walked back to Boston, fifteen miles, 
 after nine o'clock at night, to be ready for his lessons in the 
 morning. We who were inured to the hardships of New 
 England country life in those days did not think of such 
 things as they would be thought of now. Mr. Woodbury 
 was very economical, and in a year or two had saved enough 
 money to go to I,ondon and take lessons for a few months. 
 Soon after he came home he began to write, and it was not 
 long before he published his first book of church music. 
 He was prosperous and very ambitious. He said to me 
 once, "When I die I shall surprise the world," and he did. 
 He was not strong constitutionally, and the flame burned so 
 fiercely that the end for him came early. It was then found 
 that he had left almost his entire estate to found a Musical 
 Institution — the money to be used for that purpose after it 
 had been invested long enough to produce a certain sum. 
 But the law stepped in and changed this disposition of his 
 fortune in favor of his wife and children. Mr. Woodbury 
 was a genial, pleasant gentleman, and because he wrote only 
 simple music, never was credited (by those who did not 
 know him) with the musical ability and culture that he 
 really possessed. 
 
 Speaking of Mr. Woodbury's long walk, and the hardi- 
 hood of New England country boys, reminds me of what I 
 used sometimes to do to be home on Thanksgiving Day. 
 That was then by far the greatest day of the year in New 
 England, viewed in a social or religious way. Christmas 
 was hardly noticed. Everybody would be at the father's 
 
22 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 or grandfather's home for "Thanksgiving," if within the 
 bounds of possibility. If I had a singing-school the night 
 before, I would start, after a short sleep, perhaps at two or 
 three o'clock in the morning, and walk homeward, some- 
 body starting from there at the same time in a wagon to 
 meet me, so that I might be at home for breakfast. Once, 
 after my father returned from South America, a young man 
 from North Reading, who was learning a trade in Boston, 
 took this walk with me. We were in the highest state of 
 boyish exhilaration, and when my companion suggested that 
 it would be a good scheme to be on the lookout for the 
 wagon, and, when we heard it, to conceal ourselves and sur- 
 prise horse and rider in highwayman fashion, I agreed. It 
 was my father whom we met, and it was a lonely part of the 
 road. We sprang out at the horse, and he said : " Hullo ! 
 what are ye about?" and immediately added when he saw 
 who we were : " Boys, this would have been anything but a 
 Thanksgiving Day for us if I had been armed as I was in 
 South America." We saw at once how foolish we had been, 
 although, as no one carried arms in those days, no idea of 
 risk came to our minds. We did not tell of our exploit at 
 home, but I have often thought how my father " stood fire," 
 and what crestfallen highwaymen we were for the rest of 
 the journey. 
 
 I must not omit to speak of one most interesting pupil 
 that I had during my second year in Harmony Hall. One 
 day I answered a gentle rap at the door, and a large, fine- 
 looking old gentleman entered. He said : " I suppose you 
 will think it strange that an old man like me should wish to 
 learn to play upon the organ, but I have a small one in my 
 house (there were no reed organs then), and if I could learn 
 to play a few of my favorite tunes upon it I should be very 
 glad. I live in Farmington, Maine, but am spending a few 
 days with my son in the city here." I told him that he 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFE. 23 
 
 could not do much in a few days, but that I would do my 
 best for him if he decided to try. He did so decide, and 
 seemed to enjoy the lessons, as I certainly did his acquaint- 
 ance, although he did not accomplish all he had hoped in the 
 way of learning his favorite tunes. He was a typical New 
 Englander, of the best kind of those days — one who had 
 lived a long, blameless life, practicing all the virtues of the 
 Puritans without their hardness. His quaint, shrewd re- 
 marks were a constant source of pleasure and benefit, for 
 they were from the " innocence of wisdom." 
 
 I mention this circumstance, first, because this lovely 
 old gentleman was the father of the brothers Abbott, the 
 oldest of whom was Jacob Abbott, the author of "The 
 Young Christian " and " The Corner Stone," and later of the 
 " RoUo " books, and grandfather of Dr. layman Abbott, the 
 present pastor of Plymouth Church, Brooklyn, and editor 
 of the Christian Union, and of Benjamin V. and Austin 
 Abbott, distinguished lawyers and legal authors in New 
 York City. I also mention this circumstance because it led 
 to an important change in my life and prospects four years 
 later. 
 
 I must not omit to speak of the " Old Corner Bookstore," 
 which still stands at the corner of School and Washingfton 
 Streets. It was a bookstore then as now, only at that time, 
 on one side, with one counter, was the sheet-music and 
 music-book establishment of " Parker & Ditson." I went 
 there often for music, and was often waited upon by the 
 handsome, dark-eyed junior partner of the concern — the 
 man who then was making the beginning of what is now 
 one of the largest music houses in the world. 
 
24 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 1840-1844, BOSTON — PARTNERSHIP — FIRST EFFORTS AS ORGAN- 
 IST AND CHOIR I,EADER — THE FIRST TEACHING OP MUSIC 
 IN PUBI^IC SCHOOLS — THE TEACHERS' CLASS OF THE BOS- 
 TON ACADEMY OF MUSIC AND MY FIRST EFFORTS AT 
 VOCAL TRAINING IN CLASSES — THE OLD MARLBORO' AND 
 MY UNINTENTIONAL CRITIC — BOWDOIN ST. CHOIR AND MY 
 INTENTIONAL CRITIC — BOSTON'S FIRST BOAT CLUB — CALL 
 TO NEW YORK. 
 
 A GREAT cliange for me, in fact for both of us, took 
 place before my first year's agreement with Mr. John- 
 son was out. He proposed a partnership for five years, in 
 which he should have two-thirds and I one-third of what we 
 both should earn, he to have 'the privilege of spending one 
 of the years in Germany, the division of profits to be the 
 same during his absence. I agreed, and the plan was carried 
 out, and now I can not be quite sure of the dates of certain 
 things, for the Chicago fire destroyed my records of those 
 days, and of many years after. But I shall be near enough 
 for the purposes of this story. 
 
 It was not long after our partnership agreement (prob- 
 ably about 1840) that Mr. Johnson was called to take charge 
 of the choir and play the organ in Park Street Church — 
 the first church then in point of size and importance in 
 the Congregational denomination of the city. I had long 
 before commenced my organ performances by playing the 
 "last tune" at the Odeon services, in which all the people 
 joined, and which was always well known and simple, and 
 then, as soon as Mr. Johnson's courage was equal to it, I 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAI, LIFE. 25 
 
 supplied an organist's place for six months at Mr. Budding- 
 ton's church in Charlestown, just across the bridge. This 
 was my first organ engagement. Mr. Johnson still had the 
 choir at Mr. Rogers' church, and now was to play half a day 
 at each place, I playing the other half Whether the Odeon 
 church (the Central Congregational) had yet moved to its 
 new edifice in Winter street, built near the spot where the 
 Music Hall now stands, I am not certain ; but if not yet, it 
 was accomplished soon after. Then all went smoothly in 
 regard to the two choirs — ^they were near neighbors and 
 often met together for general practice. There were about 
 thirty voices in each choir. 
 
 Mr. Johnson had had a rigid business training in a large 
 hardware store in Boston before he made music his entire 
 occupation, and always had the idea of making ours a busi- 
 ness establishment, modeled strictly on business principles. 
 I was his first " apprentice ; " I became afterward " confiden- 
 tial clerk," and later, partner, and he would now have others 
 coming along in the same way. So, soon after the arrange- 
 ment with the Park Street Church, he decided to give up 
 Harmony Hall and take three rooms in the fine basement 
 of that church facing the Common. I remonstrated gently, 
 for the new rooms would cost us $600 a year, and $600 then 
 was as much, for most purposes as twice that sum would be 
 now. But he said we could there have a fine sign out ; that 
 we could raise our prices, take a new student or two, and 
 increase the business generally, enough to _ more than pay 
 the extra expense. We certainly did have our hands full, 
 but we probably should have had that at the old place. 
 Nothing, however, could be more convenient for our pur- 
 poses than those rooms, and the outlook under the great 
 trees of the Common was most picturesque and beautiful. 
 
 About the time I went to Boston, I^owell Mason told the 
 public school authorities of the city that he believed vocal 
 
26 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL I^IPE. 
 
 music could be successfully taught in the schools as a regu- 
 lar branch of education, and that if they would allow him he 
 would teach in one or two for a year without pay, to show 
 that it could be done. Music in public schools was then an 
 unheard-of thing in this country, but Mr. Mason's experi- 
 ment was tried, and it resulted in the introduction of music 
 into the entire school system of the city, with Mr. Mason for 
 musical superintendent. The first year Mr. Mason and Mr. 
 J. C. Woodman (of whom I will speak more" at length later) 
 taught in all the schools. The second year Mr. Mason em- 
 ployed Mr. Johnson and myself to help, and taught less 
 himself. I taught in five of the schools, and I think Mr. 
 Johnson had the same number. A course was marked out 
 which took a year, each school receiving two half-hour les- 
 sons a week. 
 
 One of my schools was on Fort Hill, an elevation, as I 
 remember it, of eighty or a hundred feet above the surround- 
 ing houses. I had no occasion to go into that part of the 
 city for many years after I left it, and not very long ago, 
 when I thought I would climb the old hill again, not a ves- 
 tige of it remained. It was as flat all about there as Chicago. 
 But when I meet Mr. Haines, the partner and now practical 
 head of the great Ditson establishment, it is the same face 
 that used always to give me a friendly greeting from behind 
 his desk at the Mason street school, when I appeared there 
 for the singing lesson; so of a distinguished banker in Cin- 
 cinnati whom I occasionally see ; and a successful Chicago 
 merchant who is a near neighbor — all were boys in the Ma- 
 son street school. 
 
 If my getting on so fast in a city like Boston seems un- 
 accountable, I must explain again that music was in a very 
 different condition then from what it is now. It was just 
 emerging from the florid but crude melodies and the im- 
 perfect harmonies of the older time. lyowell Mason had 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, 1,IFE. 27 
 
 but just commenced what proved to be a revolution in the 
 " plain song" of the church and of the people, and his meth- 
 ods of teaching the elementary principles of music were so 
 much better and so much more attractive than anything that 
 had before been seen that those who were early in the field 
 had very great advantage. We had no competition and were 
 sought for on every hand. To be sure there were organists I 
 then who would be considered fine organists now, but such 
 very moderate players as we were, got on, because our choirs 
 produced the new kind of simple, sweet music that went to 
 the hearts of the people and the people connected the organ, 
 little as there was in the playing, with the general effect they 
 so much enjoyed. It was very much like the success of an 
 early dealer in pianos in Chicago, who used to sell a great 
 number of instruments by sitting down to them and singing 
 a song while playing two or three simple chords. It must 
 be a fine piano to be connected with such soul-stirring ^music. 
 One of the things that spurred me up from the first to do 
 my best to succeed was the consciousness that if my father 
 should return from South America and find my experiment 
 a failure — having left mother and the children as I did, that 
 I should not feel entirely comfortable in the paternal society, 
 for his own effort to better the family fortunes had not been 
 very successful. But during my second year with Mr. John- 
 son he returned and no fault was found. On the contrary, 
 he went back to the old farm and enjoyed my prosperity 
 with the rest of us. My brother (E. T. Root, who, years 
 afterward, with C. M. Cady, started the firm of Root & Cady 
 in Chicago) came home from South America, where he had 
 gone for his health, a few months before my father, and soon 
 found a situation in Boston where he could devote a part of 
 his time to music. It was not long, however, before he de- 
 cided to make music his business, as I had done. So we 
 sent a piano up to the old red house, and he went home and 
 
28 THB STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 gave himself wholly to practice. He was always the singer 
 of the family. Before his voice changed it was a beautiful 
 soprano, and after the change a smooth, sympathetic tenor ; 
 but more of that later. My sisters, too, practiced whenever 
 they could get at the piano, and all played and sang, much 
 to their enjoyment and advantage in following years. In- 
 deed, my youngest sister, who was a baby when I left home, 
 has been for some years one of the best and most successful 
 voice teachers in the profession, as all the musical people of 
 Chicago will testify. 
 
 It was perhaps the year before I went to Boston that 
 Lowell Mason and Geo. Jas. Webb held the first " Musical 
 Convention," but they did not call the gathering by that 
 name. It was for some years "The Teachers' Class of the 
 Boston Academy of Music." Its sessions continued for ten 
 days, and brought together teachers of music and choir 
 leaders from city and country. These being mostly men, 
 the Academy's chorus, Mr. Mason's choir and other singers 
 of the city joined for the afternoon and evening practice and 
 performances. The mornings were spent by Mr. Mason in 
 showing his new method of teaching and in giving his ideas 
 of church music; the afternoons with Mr. Webb in part-song, 
 glee and madrigal singing, and in the evening, when all 
 could come, the choruses of the great masters were sung, 
 Mr. Mason conducting and Mr. Webb accompanying upon 
 the organ. Mr. Mason was a strong conductor and an in- 
 telligent interpreter of those great works, and Mr. Webb, 
 the most refined and delightful teacher of the English glee 
 and madrigal that I have ever known. 
 
 It was at the Teachers' Class of 1841, I think, that I 
 began to figure as an instructor in that kind of work. It 
 came about in this way : — I noticed that the voices, espe- 
 cially the bases, were, many of them, pinched and hard, and 
 I thought I would see if I could help them. There had 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAL I,IFE. 29 
 
 been no voice training in classes then ; that work had been 
 done entirely by private instruction. So, in pursuance of 
 my plan, I told some of the men of the class privately to 
 meet me during the noon recess in the saloon (the small 
 hall of the Odeon of which I have spoken) and we would 
 see if our voices were all right. Singers, especially those in 
 elementary states, are always interested in that subject, so 
 the proposition met with a hearty response. There were 
 perhaps twenty present at that first meeting. I took each one 
 separately, all the rest looking on or occasionally joining, and 
 sang a tone with him either an octave higher or an octave 
 lower, and showed him and all how much more resonance 
 and blending there was when the tone was produced with 
 the throat more open, and when he could not readily change 
 from the way to which he had been accustomed, I devised 
 such means as I could think of to help him, much to the 
 interest of the class and sometimes to their great amuse- 
 ment. When I got through there was a good deal of favor- 
 able excitement in the little company. " This is what we 
 want. Can't we have this every day?" was heard on all sides. 
 I said I was willing enough, but they would have to go to 
 Mr. Mason about it; we certainly could not meet at this 
 time every day, for some of us had then lost our dinners. 
 When the class came together for Mr. Webb's exer- 
 cise in the afternoon, these men gathered about Mr. Mason 
 and told him what they wanted. They were so close to him, 
 and so clamorous I remember, that he jumped up into a 
 chair, and when he fully understood the situation, an- 
 nounced that the last hour of the morning would be devoted 
 to vocal training under the instruction of Mr. Root. This 
 was my first appearance in vocal training class-work. Of 
 course I could not hear voices alone so much after this as I 
 had done in the smaller and more informal gathering, but it 
 was better than nothing, and as there was no previous work 
 
30 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL I^IFE. 
 
 of the kind to compare it with, it was popular, and con- 
 tinued as one of the features of teachers' classes and con- 
 ventions during my long connection with Mr. Mason, and 
 has been an integral part of normals and conventions ever 
 since. 
 
 It may be worth mentioning that in the Spring of my 
 third year in Boston the first Boat Club of that city was 
 formed. It consisted of twenty-four young men (two crews), 
 mostly members of Park Street and Winter Street Churches. 
 We had a boat house on Beacon street, where now are mag- 
 nificent residences, and used often to row up near to the 
 Common where the Public Garden now is. All was open 
 water where Commonwealth avenue and those finest build- 
 ings of Boston now are; the only obstructions were the 
 railroads on piles and bridges that ran across the back bay. 
 There was then, as to-day, the '' mill dam'," and the long 
 bridge to Cambridge, and the bridges to Charlestown, to 
 pass, when we wanted to row down the harbor. Ours was 
 a ten-oared boat that had belonged to the Yale College Club 
 at New Haven. We named it the "Shawmut" (the old 
 Indian name for Boston), and our club was called the 
 " Shawmut Boat Club." There was room enough in the boat 
 for six guests, and in her we had many pleasant excursions 
 up the rivers and down among the islands of the harbor, 
 and much delight and advantage from the open air and the 
 rowing. I take pleasure in recalling that I was the first 
 president of the club. 
 
 After everything was well under way at the Park Street 
 and Winter Street Churches (about 1841), and all my time 
 was occupied in teaching, Mr. Johnson went to Germany. 
 During his absence I taught both choirs, and Mr. S. A. Ban- 
 croft, who had taken some lessons from us, and who after- 
 ward became one of the prominent organists of Boston, 
 played the "other half-day." I now took up my quarters at 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, I<IFE. 3 1 
 
 the Marlboro' Hotel, on Washington street,- opposite the head 
 of Franklin street. This was a temperance and religious 
 house, our excellent landlord, Mr. Nathaniel Rogers, con- 
 ducting family prayers in the public parlor every morning. 
 Church and temperance people from all over the country 
 gathered there, and I made many valuable acquaintances 
 from among them during the two years that I was one of 
 the family. One friend was made in a rather curious way. 
 I was standing at one of the parlor windows, looking down 
 Franklin street one Sunday afternoon after service, observ- 
 ing the people pouring up from the principal Catholic church, 
 which was then on Franklin near Federal street, and talking 
 with some of my young fellow-boarders, when a gentleman 
 joined us and asked where all the people were coming 
 from. I answered him, and then he asked about other 
 churches of the city, and, finding I could tell him what he 
 wanted to know, he began to ask about the music of the 
 different denominations and then about the organists of the 
 city. Presently he said, " I was at Park Street Church this 
 afternoon, and I found it there as almost everywhere — the or- 
 ganist seemed to think the organ was everything. He played 
 so loud that the voices of the choir were almost drowned." 
 Here my companions, who stood about, became suddenly in- 
 terested and glanced mischievously at each other and at me. 
 I replied that in the summer it was often the case in chorus 
 choirs that the leading voices were away and the organist 
 had to play louder than he liked, to bolster up the others. 
 He did not seem to think that was a very good excuse, and 
 soon came the question I dreaded: "Do you know who the 
 organist is at Park Street Church? " If my mischievous com- 
 panions had not been there I should have spared him and 
 myself in some way, but as it was I could not flinch, and 
 answered that I was the individual. He was a good deal 
 embarrassed, but I helped him out by saying that the reasons 
 
32 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 I had given were the real ones in my case, and that if he 
 would come and hear us at our best he would not have to 
 find that fault with the accompaniment. It turned out that 
 he was a lawyer from Troy, very fond of music and some- 
 thing of an organist. He seemed to appreciate my efforts 
 to relieve his embarrassment, and the interview terminated 
 in a very pleasant way. The next day we went to see some 
 of the fine organs of the city, and two or three years after- 
 ward, when Messrs. Mason and Webb held a musical con- 
 vention in Troy, in which I did my usual voice work, this 
 gentleman was an interested and helpful friend to us 
 throughout the session. But this incident taught me a 
 lesson in regard to saying unpleasant things about a per- 
 son unless I know to whom I am talking. 
 
 In due time Mr. Johnson returned. He had studied 
 harmony a year or more under Schneider von Wartensee, at 
 Frankfort, and once when he went for his lesson had heard 
 Mendelssohn play one of his new compositions to the old 
 harmonist. I was much impressed with Mr. Johnson's de- 
 scription of the way the old man said "schon" at the close 
 of the performance, and of Mendelssohn's pleasure at the 
 approval of the man who almost never spoke a word of 
 praise. I do not remember anything very eventful in our 
 affairs for a while after Mr. Johnson's return. 
 
 Mr. Mason used occasionally to call at our rooms, some- 
 times leading a small boy who was then practicing his first 
 lessons upon the piano. That boy was his son William, the 
 now well-known and distinguished pianist and composer, 
 and the strong and true friend of musical education in this 
 country. 
 
 Mr. Jacob Abbott used to stopat the " Marlboro " when he 
 came into the city, and I remember once taking him out for 
 a boat ride in the "Shawmut." He was greatly interested 
 in the working of the boat, and especially in the nautical 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< LIFE. 33 
 
 terms employed in directing the ten oarsmen and the bow- 
 man. "We went through all the maneuvers we knew for his 
 especial benefit. All of these appear in "Uncle George's" 
 directions to RoUo and the boys on the formation of their 
 boat club, in one of the " RoUo Books " published not long 
 after. 
 
 Something less than a year remained of my engagement 
 with Mr. Johnson when a change took place in our church 
 matters. For some reason Mr. Mason decided that he 
 would rather be at Winter Street (Central) Church, and 
 what he wished was generally accomplished in tho.se days, 
 so it was arranged that he should come there where Mr. 
 Johnson and I had had charge, and that I should go to 
 Bowdoin street, Mr. Johnson remaining at Park street. It 
 was hard for me to follow Mr. Mason and his magnificent 
 choir with any hope of success, but all the people who 
 were interested realized my difficulty and were very consid- 
 erate and kind. If there were complaints or unpleasant 
 comparisons they never came to my ears. It was thought 
 best that my headquarters should be Bowdoin street, the 
 convenient rooms that Mr. Mason had used for teaching 
 being placed at my disposal, so I made an amicable arrange- 
 ment with Mr. Johnson for the balance of my five years' 
 agreement and commenced on my own account. Most of 
 Mr. Mason's choir went with him. Of those who remained 
 my memory dwells most upon one of whom I have often 
 thought since that he denied himself the advantages and 
 enjoyment of his place in the best choir in the country to 
 help me in my difficult undertaking, but his way was so 
 peculiar (so good in some respects) that I mention it here. 
 He was one of Mr. Mason's best base singers, both in the 
 Academy's chorus and in the choir, considerably older than 
 myself, a prosperous business man, prominent in the church 
 and in the Sunday-school, opinionated, decided and out- 
 
34 THK STORY OP A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 spoken on every question in whicli he took an interest, but 
 with clear-cut ideas of subordination which had been inten- 
 sified by his long course of training under the best musical 
 disciplinarian that this country has ever seen. I did not 
 know all this then, although I had been acquainted with 
 him for two or three years, so was in some anxiety when I 
 learned that he was going to stay at Bowdoin street, lest I 
 might find it difiicult to be master of the situation. It was 
 with considerable trepidation that I went to the first re- 
 hearsal, but instead of greeting me in his outspoken way or 
 patronizing me as I feared he would, my friend was seated 
 in his place, not saying a word to any one. It was time to 
 begin, but I had been delayed by one thing and another and 
 was a little behind time in starting. I knew how exact 
 everything had been there, and thought that perhaps Mr. 
 Benson might take me to task on the spot, but not a word 
 did he say, and during the evening, when I appealed to him 
 on some musical point, or asked him some questions con- 
 cerning their customs, his answers, given with an almost 
 timid, downcast look, were in a subdued and most respect- 
 ful tone of voice. To say that I was astonished is to put it 
 mildly. Could this be the man who, although kind enough, 
 had always treated me in his blufi" way like a boy? But be- 
 fore the evening was out I had a glimmering of his purpose, 
 and after all were gone I was not left in the least doubt. 
 First he looked carefully around to see that no one was in 
 sight or hearing, and then went through a list of my short- 
 comings in his off-hand, decided way. First, I was behind 
 time in beginning — how was I to expect promptness on the 
 part of the choir if I was not prompt myself? — then there 
 was this fault and that fault in the singing that I did not 
 correct ; and he did not believe my making the choir laugh 
 now and then would wear well in the long run, etc. I have 
 often been thankful that I did not resent these criticisms, 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAL LIFE. 35 
 
 for, although I did not always take his advice, I received 
 much help from him in the months that followed, and his 
 personal example of subordination and ready obedience in 
 the choir was invaluable in getting it into order. 
 
 After I had been at Bowdoin street a few months, Mr. 
 Jacob Abbott, on one of his visits to Boston, asked if he 
 could go with me to one of my class singing lessons. Yes, 
 he could go to one of the public school lessons or to an 
 evening class of ladies and gentlemen. I think he went to 
 both, but remember particularly his visit to the evening 
 class. I knew that he was a great educator, and that his 
 " Mt. Vernon School for Young I<adies " in Boston had been 
 famous a few years before. Mr. Mason taught in it (before 
 the public school work began), and, when one of the young 
 ladies died, composed a tune for the hymn " Sister, Thou 
 wast Mild and I^ovely,'' which was written for the occasion, 
 and called it " Mt. Vernon." I think both hymn and tune 
 are well known now. I was very glad when Mr. Abbott 
 seemed pleased with my classes and my teaching, but had 
 no idea what. that approval would lead to. I found out soon 
 after, however. He and his brothers, John S. C, Gorham 
 and Charles, had just started a young ladies' school in New 
 York City, and he wrote them that he thought he had found 
 the teacher they wanted for the music of their institution. 
 Upon' their answering, Mr. Jacob spoke to me on the sub- 
 ject of going there. I hesitated ; I was doing well, had a 
 large circle of good friends, was near my old home, etc., but 
 Mr. Abbott said : " There is a great field in New York — 
 nothing like Mr. Mason's work and yours has been done 
 there. Here Mr. Mason and Mr. Webb are at the head, and 
 you must for a long time occupy a subordinate place. There 
 you will have a clear field, and I think you can sustain your- 
 self in it. We want such work as you can do in our school, 
 and we think other institutions will want the same when 
 
36 THE STORY OP A MUSICAI, LIFE. 
 
 they know what it is." He offered a generous price for a 
 daily class lesson five days in the week, I to have the en- 
 tire amount I could make from private instruction. He 
 thought, also, that at Mercer Street Church — Dr. Skinner's 
 — where he attended church, they were considering a change, 
 and he believed they would like our kind of large choir. 
 After talking with the folks at home and my good friends in 
 Boston about the matter, I finally said : " If the church posi- 
 tion can be secured, I will go." " Well, come and stay a 
 few days with us, and let the people see and hear you, and 
 we believe it will be brought about." I went, gave a lesson 
 or two to the young ladies in class assembled, talked with 
 the church people, played the organ a little, and, at a com- 
 pany assembled at Mr. Abbott's for the purpose, sang my 
 repertoire of songs from Russell's " Ivy Green " to Schu- 
 bert's " Wanderer." The next day the matter was settled 
 for church and school, and I went back to Boston to arrange 
 for a speedy commencement of my work in the great city 
 of New York. It was some time in 1844 that I left Boston 
 for my new field of labor. 
 
Thb story op a musicai< lipe;. 37 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 1 844-1 847, NEW YORK — ^ABBOTT'S SCHOOI, POR YOUNG I,ADIES 
 — RUTGERS FEMALE INSTITUTE — MISS HAINES' SCHOOL — 
 THE UNION THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY — THE NEW YORK 
 INSTITUTION FOR THE BLIND AND THE MERCER ST. PRES- 
 BYTERIAN CHURCH — MY MARRIAGE — MY QUARTET AND 
 PERFORMANCE AT THE PHILHARMONIC — SUMMER CONVEN- 
 TION WORK WITH MESSRS. MASON AND WEBB — MR. JACOB 
 ABBOTT'S ADVICE ABOUT THE WAY TO KEEP A DIARY. 
 
 A BBOTT'S school for young ladies at that time was in 
 -^"^ one of the fine houses in the white marble row in La- 
 fayette Place, New York, spacious and convenient beyond 
 anything I had before seen. I found the work delightful. 
 Our methods were new, as Mr. Abbott had said they would 
 be, and no one having made class teaching and singing te- 
 dious and unpopular in the school it was not difficult to 
 arouse and keep up an interest in the lessons. We had fre- 
 quent visitors — parents and friends of the young ladies, and 
 other persons interested in seeing the new work, and later 
 on in hearing the pleasant part-singing. This singing in 
 parts came along astonishingly soon, for three-quarters of an 
 hour every school day with those bright, interested girls was 
 very different from the two half hours a week that I had 
 been accustomed to in the Public Schools of Boston. 
 
 The work had been going on but a few weeks when I 
 observed one day a large, benignant-looking old gentleman, 
 accompanied by two younger men, looking on and appar- 
 ently taking an unusual interest in the lesson I was giving. 
 This was Dr. Isaac Ferris, then pastor of Rutgers Street 
 
38 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFE. 
 
 Church, and President of the Board of Trustees of Rutgers 
 Female Institute, and afterward Chancellor of the New York 
 University, and two of the Rutgers Institute trustees. They 
 came to see if the new Yankee music teacher would do for 
 their celebrated old Knickerbocker institution, of which 
 Prof Charles E. West, lyl,. D., was then Principal. The 
 result was that I soon added a daily lesson at Rutgers to my 
 work. This institution then occupied a large, commodious 
 building on Madison street, which had been erected for its 
 use. Here I met four hundred girls and young ladies five 
 days in the week, giving three-quarters of an hour at each 
 session. Of my ten years' work in this institution I shall 
 have frequent occasion to speak, as my story goes on. 
 
 My duties at Mercer Street Church commenced very soon 
 after my arrival in New York. The chapel of the church 
 was just back of the main building, and facing on Greene 
 street. Here were lecture room and Sunday-school rooms; 
 and over the main entrance, a fine octagonal room, which 
 had been especially prepared as a study for the pastor, but 
 Dr. Skinner preferred his home study, which was next door, 
 and this most convenient room for my purposes was turned 
 over to me. I met the choir every Saturday night in the 
 lecture room, but heard individual voices and gave some 
 private lessons in this smaller room, which was my pleasant 
 musical home during my entire New York life. 
 
 I remember well my first lesson at a pupil's home in 
 New York. She was one of the young ladies of the Abbott 
 School, and lived on University Place near Twelfth street. 
 I mention it because it will seem strange to those who know 
 New York now, that this point should even then have been 
 so far " up town." I was a few minutes too early when I 
 reached the house, and thought I would walk on to an open^ 
 ing I saw ahead at Fourteenth street. It was rough ground 
 where Union Square now is, and only scattered houses and 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 39 
 
 blocks around and beyond. A further showing of the great 
 change in New York since those days is seen in the fact that 
 Miss Haines' celebrated School for Young Ladies, in which 
 I commenced teaching soon after, was then on Chambers 
 street near Broadway. It was some years after that that 
 Mason Brothers moved from Park Row to Duane street, 
 because they needed larger quarters, and could get a large 
 building there at a very low rent, because it was so far up 
 town, and so near the residence portion of the city. The 
 business sagacity of the house was, however, shown there as 
 it was in many other " moves " in following years. They 
 had a long lease, and sold the balance of it for a good sized 
 fortune after they had ocpupied the place two or three years. 
 
 In my choir were some students of the Union Theolog- 
 ical Seminary, then near by, on University Place, between 
 Eighth street and Waverly Place. Two of the names, Jes- 
 sup and Harding, are known to all persons interested in 
 foreign missions, those men having been at the head of mis- 
 sionary work in India for many years. In due time it was 
 brought about that I should give two lessons a week to the 
 students in the Seminary, and the year after I commenced 
 daily class lessons in the New York State Institution for the 
 Blind. This establishment occupied a large, fine building 
 facing Ninth avenue, and owned the entire block of ground 
 between Thirty-second and Thirty-third streets, and Eighth 
 and Ninth avenues, then far up town. In walking over 
 from Twenty-fourth street and Fourth avenue, as I some- 
 times did, I crossed corn and potato fields, and remember 
 occasionally being much disgusted at soiling my clean shoes 
 in a muddy ditch where Madison Square now is. 
 
 Within six weeks after the commencement of my work 
 in New York I was fully occupied. I had not all the class 
 teaching then that came to me afterward, but ajl my spare 
 time was filled with private lessons. As the class-work in- 
 creased I turned the private lessons over to others. 
 
40 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFE. 
 
 In Mr. Mason's choir in Boston were several members of 
 a very musical family by the name of Woodman. One of the 
 sons, Mr. J. C. Woodman, had a fine baritone voice, and was 
 one of the soloists in the Boston Academy of Music. He 
 was a teacher of music, and, as I have mentioned, was Mr. 
 Mason's first assistant in the introduction of music into 
 the Public Schools of Boston. He was also a good com- 
 poser and organist. He is the author of "State Street," 
 which, according to the law of " the survival of the fittest," 
 has come down to us with the tunes which are still the 
 standards in our churches where worship, and not musical 
 display, is the object. His son, R. Huntington Woodman, 
 of Brooklyn, N. Y., is now one of the most promising young 
 organists of this or any other country, having recently re- 
 ceived endorsements to that effect from the highest musical 
 authorities of I^ondon and Paris, where he played in 1888. 
 
 Within a year after I went to New York (in August, 
 1845) I married J. C. Woodman's sister, Mary Olive. She 
 was an accomplished singer, and if my children inherit mu- 
 sical qualities they get quite as much from her side of the 
 house as from mine. 
 
 During my first winter at Mercer Street Church I often^ 
 said to the officers of the church that I could make the choir 
 much better if they would have the key-board of the organ 
 brought out to the front of the gallery so that the choir 
 could be before me (between me and the organ), instead of 
 behind me while I was playing — that my voice would help 
 more, and my directions be better understood and observed, 
 if I could see all the choir and they could see me. I also 
 suggested that while they were about it they might make 
 some much-needed improvement in the organ itself This 
 was done the next summer. A judicious expenditure of 
 two thousand dollars made a great change in the fine old in- 
 strument. I was married during the vacation, and when I 
 
The SfORY OF A MUSICAL I^IIfS. 4I 
 
 returned and put the new soprano and the other leading 
 voices in front of me, with the remaining members of the 
 choir, thirty or forty in number, at their sides, but all in 
 sight, I felt like a king upon his throne, certain of his ability 
 to control and take care of his entire kingdom. 
 
 And now my sisters came along, one after another, and 
 went to school either at Rutgers or Abbott's, and under 
 greater advantages pursued their musical studies. My 
 brother, of whom I have previously spoken, and Mr. Henry 
 T. Lincoln, a noble base, who began his musical career in 
 my first singing school at the " North End" in Boston, in 
 '39, also came, both to sing in my choir and to assist me in 
 my teaching. A little later my youngest brother, William 
 A. Root, also came, and went to a commercial school and 
 then into a business office. One of my sisters had an ex- 
 cellent contralto voice, and we now had a well-balanced 
 home quartet — wife, sister, brother and self, ■and adding Mr. 
 I^incoln, a good quintet. We took great delight in practicing 
 some of the Mendelssohn part-songs, then comparatively 
 new, and such old madrigals and glees as were set for 
 soprano, alto, tenor, baritone and base. William Mason, 
 then a very young man, had written a serenade, entitled 
 "Slumber Sweetly, Dearest," that we greatly delighted in. 
 (See page 228.) 
 
 After a while we found we were singing with a balance 
 and blending sometimes heard in very simple music by such 
 singers as the Hutchinson family (then in the zenith of their 
 success), but rarely if ever (in our experience) in music of a 
 higher grade, and this encouraged me to strive for the high- 
 est perfection possible in every point that I could think of 
 for my quartet. In one of our summer vacations we all 
 went to the old home in North Reading, and practiced to- 
 gether every day for six weeks — some days hours at a time 
 on a repertoire of about five numbers. At last I, who was 
 
^2 THE STORY OF A MOSICAI, I,IFE. 
 
 the leader, had no more to think of the others while we were 
 singing together than if I had b^en singing alone. I could 
 carry out every conception I had in the way of expression 
 — increasing, diminishing, accelerating or retarding, sudden 
 attack or delicate shading, with the utmost freedom, being 
 sure that all would go exactly with me. I had for some time 
 been feeling that a musical demonstration might have to be 
 made in New York, and on their own ground, musically, to 
 some of the chronic contemners of simple music, and of our 
 New England way of teaching it. I knew that as soloists 
 none of us would be regarded as anything more than medi- 
 ocre, but I believed that as a quartet, with the work we 
 had done, we should at least close their mouths as to our 
 musical competency. 
 
 Fortunately, at the previous Commencement of the Rut- 
 gers .Female Institute, Theodor Eisfeld, the then conductor 
 of the New York Philharmonic Society — the most important 
 musical association in the country -r- was one of a committee 
 of three to examine the singing class. He pronounced the 
 work good, and so reported. So, soon after the autumn work 
 commenced, I asked Mr. Eisfeld to come and hear us sing a 
 quartet. He was evidently not at all elated by the musical 
 prospect before him, but he was good-natured and came. We 
 began with Mendelssohn's " Hunting Song." Perhaps it was 
 because of his surprise, but his praises were extravagant; 
 so much so that I will not repeat them here. We sang other 
 quartets at his request, and then came the invitation that I 
 had been working for : " Will you sing two numbers at the 
 next Philharmonic concert?" " Oh, yes, with pleasure," and 
 we did. We sang the " Hunting Song" and Wm. Mason's 
 '• Serenade." We were somewhat abashed on that occasion 
 at the first sound of our voices — it was such a musical at- 
 mosphere as we had never been in before as performers, but 
 we soon pulled ourselves together, and when at the end of 
 
'THE STORY OF A MUSlCAl^ LIFE. 43 
 
 the first quartet the musicians of the orchestra laid down 
 their instruments and joined the audience in hearty applause 
 we knew our object had been accomplished. The "Sere- 
 nade" was encored, and the next day the papers said only 
 pleasant things of our performances. We heard nothing 
 more, in a disagreeable way, about the Yankee singing mas- 
 ter. We had passed the ordeal successfully at the highest 
 musical tribunal, and that ended the matter. From that 
 time on I had the good will and friendship of the best musi- 
 cians in New York, to the end of my stay in that city. 
 
 The summer vacations in New York were longer than 
 those of Boston, so I could continue my connection with the 
 great Teachers' Classes of the Boston Academy of Music and 
 of dmilar gatherings under the direction of Messrs. Mason 
 and Webb in other parts of the country. This was from 
 1845 onward. It was also a great delight to go with Mr. 
 Mason, when I could, to the day school Teachers' Institutes, 
 which were conducted by Horace Mann and other great 
 educators of that day. They prized Mr. Mason's lessons 
 exceedingly. Mr. Mann said he would walk fifty miles to 
 see Mr. Mason teach if he could not otherwise have that 
 advantage. 
 
 That work helped me greatly, for there the principles of 
 teaching as an art were more clearly set forth than they were 
 in our musical work. Once, I remember, at an Institute in 
 Chelsea near Boston I had the pleasure of seeing and hearing 
 Louis Agassiz, the great uaturahst — the man who never 
 forgot anything that he had once seen from a beetle to a 
 human being. He was one of the model teachers on that 
 occasion, and it was beautiful to see the facility and accuracy 
 with which he drew upon the blackboard every kind of insect 
 of which he spoke, and most interesting and instructive to 
 listen to his clear Pestalozzian teaching in regard to them. 
 I met him but for a moment as a hundred others did at that 
 
44 THE STORY OP A MUSICAL I,IFE. 
 
 time, but many years after, on being presented to him in a 
 literary gathering in Chicago, he said, "Ah, I have met you 
 before — at an Institute in Chelsea, I think." This is men- 
 tioned only to illustrate one faculty possessed by that great 
 man, the extent of which may not be generally known. 
 
 Rochester, N. Y., was a favorite place for a week or ten 
 days' musical convention right after the Boston meeting. 
 The vocal training class had succeeded so well that they 
 decided to try harmony, and Mr. Johnson went along for 
 that. I remember one lovely summer day when we were 
 thirty or forty miles from Auburn on our way to Rochester, 
 that we found ourselves almost the only occupants of a large 
 car. The windows were open to the sweet air of the harvest 
 fields and we were enjoying to the full the change from the 
 hot and dusty city to this lovely country. Presently at a 
 station an hour or so from Auburn, fifteen or twenty young 
 ladies, evidently all acquainted with each other, entered, and 
 seated themselves around ys. They were in an unusually 
 merry mood and after awhile began to sing. Their selec- 
 tions were all from the Boston Glee Book, by Messrs. Mason 
 ajid Webb, and were sung from memory. We also knew 
 every piece, and I felt inclined to join, but Mr. Mason looked 
 dignified, and Mr. Webb, I feared, might not think it quite 
 proper, so I kept silent, but when they began Momington's 
 Glee, " Here in cool grot," Mr. Mason and I evidently 
 thought of the same thing at the same time — "what will 
 they do when that bit of base solo comes in ? " A glance 
 from him was sufficient, and when the time came I supplied 
 it :— " Nor yet for artful strains we call," then Mr. Johnson 
 joined, and, I think, the older gentlemen assisted, so that 
 before the glee was through there was quite a little chorus 
 effect. The young ladies were evidently astonished, but as 
 evidently pleased.- They said nothing to us, nor we to them, 
 but went on singing, and we continued to supply some tenor 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAL I.IFE. 45 
 
 and base. At last Mr. Johnson. said to the young lady near- 
 est to him, " Do you know who those two gentlemen are ? " 
 She answered that she did not. "Well, they are I,owell 
 Mason and George James Webb, the authors of the book 
 you have been singing from." That was to her a tremen- 
 dous piece of information. The young singers of the coun- 
 try then regarded those two men as most exalted beings. 
 Almost the only books used were theirs, and their influence 
 and fame were unbounded. The word flew from one to 
 another and not another note was sung. Presently one of 
 the older ones explained to Mr. Webb that they were all 
 attending a young ladies' school in Auburn, and two or three 
 hours before had come in a body to the station at. Auburn to 
 to see a school-mate off, and that the conductor had invited 
 them to take this ride, and now they were returning. I 
 remember that we did not go on from Auburn until the next 
 morning (there was no thought of sleeping cars in those 
 days), and that, at this young lady's invitation, Mr. Webb 
 and I called upon her at her father's house in the evening. 
 My Quintet went once during a summer vacation with 
 Mr. Johnson on a short convention tour into New York 
 State, and that was about the last of both Quartet and Quin- 
 tet for concert singing, for my sister became engaged to a 
 New York gentleman who objected to that sort of publicity 
 for her. Once I remember that I so far overcame his scruples 
 that he gave his consent to her singing at a concert that 
 Gottschalk was to give in Dodworth's Hall, but when the 
 time came she was too ill to sing and some other perform- 
 ance took our place. I mention it because we were to sing 
 there a quartet that Mr. Eisfeld composed for us soon after 
 our advent at the Philharmonic, and which we had sung, I 
 think, at one of his chamber concerts, and with great delight 
 in our practice and to friends. It begins, " On the lake's 
 unrufiied surface," and I presume may still be found. It 
 will repay careful study. (See page 229.) 
 
46 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFE. 
 
 I ought to say something more here of that remarkable 
 family with whom it was my good fortune to be connected 
 during my ten years in New York. The published works of 
 Jacob Abbott and of John S. C. Abbott are known. In the 
 legal profession the works of Benjamin Vaughan Abbott 
 and of Austin Abbott are, I am told, regarded as standards, 
 and in the theological and editorial world Lyman Abbott is 
 one of the most eminent men of the present time. These 
 three last mentioned are sons of Jacob Abbott, and were 
 boys at the time of which I write. That, however, which is 
 not " known and read of all " is the home and school-life of 
 these admirable men. In their homes and in their school- 
 rooms, with each other and with all who were connected 
 with them, either as pupils or teachers, their intercourse was 
 characterized by a sincerity and a gentle friendliness so 
 steady and so constant that breaking over it into roughness 
 of any kind or into disobedience seemed impossible. I saw 
 no outbreak or case of "disqipline"in all the years that I 
 was with them. That their excellent methods and great 
 skill and attainments as teachers had something to do with 
 the result will of course be understood. They were called 
 in the school by no other names than"Mn Jacob," "Mr. 
 John," " Mr. Gorham," and " Mr. Charles," and I was always 
 " Mr. George," and my brother " Mr. Towner." 
 
 As larger buildings were needed the school was moved, 
 first to Houston street, then to Bleecker, both near Broad- 
 way. I can not remember just when the brothers decided 
 to have two schools, and now I miss my diary again. In 
 fact, as I go on, I miss it more and more. That book, by the 
 way, and the circumstances that caused it, are worth speak- 
 ing of. 
 
 Early in my New York life Mr. Jacob said to me one 
 day: "Did you ever keep a diary?" "Yes," I answered, "I 
 have begun a half dozen at least." " You haven't any of 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 47 
 
 them now?" "No." "You burned each one after writing a 
 few weeks or a few months in it." "Yes." "Was it because 
 you had been so sentimental that you gradually grew tired 
 of what you had written, and at last ashamed to have any 
 one see it?" I laughed and said it was exactly so. "Well," 
 he said, " that is a very common experience. I will tell you 
 what kind of a diary you will never wish to burn. Get a 
 good sized, substantially bound blank-book and record in it 
 simply facts of your everj'^-day life ; first, every event of your 
 past life, with its date, that you think you would like to re- 
 member years hence, then begin where you are now and do 
 the same thing every day. Speak of pupils, letters, people 
 you see, concerts, classes, journeys — in short, every occur- 
 rence of any prominence that is connected with your work 
 or home. Do not give an opinion or admit a word of senti- 
 ment in regard to any of the records you make, but let them 
 be stated in the briefest and most concise manner possible. 
 They may look dry to you now, but years hence they will be 
 full of associations of the successful and pleasant life you are 
 now living, and instead of growing tiresome as you read 
 them, they will become more and more interesting and val- 
 uable." 
 
 I saw at once how good this advice was, and went right 
 off to Mr. Ivison (who was then a member of Mercer Street 
 choir) and had the book made. It was as large as a good- 
 sized ledger, was bound in strong leather, and so arranged 
 that it could be locked. As soon as it was done I asked Mr. 
 Jacob to come and see it. He came, and when he had 
 looked and approved I asked him to begin it for me. He 
 did, and this is about what he wrote : 
 
 " Mr. George has brought me in here to see his new book. 
 This is his music room. It is octagonal in shape, two corners being 
 cut ofiF for closets and two for doors of entrance. The wood-work is 
 oak. An octagonal table occupies the center, and book-cases with 
 
48 THE STORY OF A. MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 glass doors are on the side between the doors. There is a piano and 
 a lounge here, and several easy chairs in convenient places. Twenty 
 years hence, Mr. George, when you read this in some totally different 
 scene let it remind you of your New York music room and 
 
 " Mr. Jacob." 
 
 I did as he advised — began with my early hfe, and found 
 I could recall almost everything of importance before going 
 to Boston, and while there, then started from that time (early 
 in 1845) to make short daily records. This went through 
 my New York life, my first stay in Europe, and my early 
 convention work to 1871, when we were in full tide of suc- 
 cessful business in Chicago — more than twenty-five years of 
 brief, close record. The book was but little more than half 
 full, and how true were Mr. Jacob's ideas about the memo- 
 ries and associations it recalled. " Closing exercises at Rut- 
 gers to-day" was not merely the record of a musical exer- 
 cise twenty years before. About that commonplace event 
 were now summer flowers, bright skies and dear friends — 
 and the flowers grew sweeter, the skies brighter, and the 
 friends dearer as the years rolled on. But a memorable day 
 came when my big journal shared the fate of its little pre- 
 decessors. It was burned ! But not by my hand. It went 
 up, with many other mementos of my former life, in the 
 flames of the great Chicago fire. 
 
 Somebody may be as much obliged to me as I was to Mr. 
 Jacob for this suggestion about the way to keep a diary. 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAL I<IFE. 49 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 1848-1849, NEW YORK — SPINGLER INSTITUTE — ADDING DIFFI- 
 CULTIES TO THE MUSICAL WORK OP MY CLASSES— REFER- 
 ENCE TO DR. mason's first "SINGING SCHOOL" — MY 
 FIRST EFFORTS AT COMPOSITION AND BOOK-MAKING — 
 DIFFERENT MUSICAL GRADES — ^JENNY LIND. 
 
 TT must have been about 1848 that the heirs of the Sping- 
 -*- ler estate in New York city erected a fine stone building 
 on Union Square, between Fourteenth and Fifteenth streets, 
 for Mr. Gorham Abbott's school. On the corner of Fifteenth 
 street, where Tiffany now is, had already been built a large 
 church for Dr. Cheever. Mr. Gorham Abbott's school was 
 called the " Spingler Institute," and the church was called 
 the "Church of the Puritans." Mr. Spingler was a dairy- 
 man, who some years before had kept his cows thereabout. 
 His little farm took in some acres from where Union Square 
 now is, to near Sixth avenue, and from Fourteenth street 
 upward a block or two. 
 
 People were disposed to be humorous about the name 
 " Spingler " at first. It was suggested that " Spinster Insti- 
 tute " would be more appropriate, but the result was a good 
 illustration of the fact that a name, whether of a person, or 
 a town, or a street, or an institute, takes on the character of 
 what it names. If that is excellent or beautiful, the name 
 soon becomes so to those interested, however lacking it may 
 be in euphony or beauty in the abstract. " Spingler " soon 
 lost its odd sound to us and came to be just the word to 
 mean an elegant structure, fitted in a costly manner for its 
 purposes, and filled with young ladies of culture and refine- 
 ment. 
 
50 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 Mr. Abbott was constantly adding to the attractiveness 
 of the institution by various means. One of his most im- 
 portant purchases was the original " Voyage of lyife," by 
 Thomas Cole — four large pictures — which he hung on the 
 walls of the Chapel where the daily singing lessons were 
 given, and where were enjoyed many fine concerts and liter- 
 ary entertainments. 
 
 Connected with the Abbott school I often think of a 
 bright, vivacious girl, who was always conspicuous in the 
 school entertainments, especially in those that had any fun 
 in them. She was an excellent scholar and a great favorite. 
 This was Helen Fiske, now known the world over as Helen 
 Hunt Jackson (H. H.). 
 
 One of the first troubles that I met in the classes at Rut- 
 gers and Abbott's was that the course which took the whole 
 year in the Boston public schools here lasted but a, couple 
 of months, the diflference being between two. half-hour les- 
 sons a week to children, and daily lessons of three-quarters 
 of an hour to young ladies and bright, interested girls. 
 When I saw the end of my usual course approaching I did 
 not know exactly what to do for exercises, but finally de- 
 cided to work in the more remote keys, major and minor 
 (from the blackboard), and to have the class transpose the 
 scales, both major and, harmonic minor, through all the keys. 
 Understand, when I say transpose the scales I mean just that. 
 Singing one exercise or tune in one key, and then a different 
 exercise or tune in another, is not transposing the scale — it 
 is not transposition at all. What my classes did was to sing 
 the scale in the key of C, ascending and descending, and 
 then- the same in G, then in D, and so on through the enhar- 
 monic change from the key of F-sharp to the key of G-flat, 
 back to the key of C — out through the sharps (so to speak), 
 and back through the flats, or vice versa. First the major 
 scales, then the minor, then each major, followed by its rela- 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, I,IFE. 5 1 
 
 tive minor in a series, as, C, A, G, E, D, B, etc. I thought 
 this for exercise practice would occupy the year, but it did 
 not take three months to do the work well, without an in- 
 strument, and to read pretty difficult diatonic lessons in all 
 the keys, major and minor. Then I began upon the prac- 
 tice of the chromatic scale, feeling sure that that would last 
 through the term, but it did not. In two months, or there- } 
 about, the classes at Rutgers and Spingler could sing that 
 series in any key to syllables, or "la," or." ah," rapidly and 
 accurately. All this is not wonderful now, but it was then. 
 At the annual examinations of the classes at Rutgers three 
 of the best musicians of the city were regularly chosen to 
 pass upon the work, and the Principal and Trustees of the 
 Institute, and all concerned, greatly enjoyed their surprise 
 and unlimited praise. 
 
 About the time we had accomplished the work of singing 
 the chromatic scale, as above described, I had occasion to go 
 to Boston for a day, and told Mr. Mason what we had done. 
 "What! four hundred girls sing the chromatic scale in the 
 way you describe? I can't believe it." I assured him that 
 it wa^ so, but left him in evident doubt. At the next sum- 
 mer vacation, when we met for the usual Teacher's Class 
 and Convention work, he said " That chromatic scale singing 
 is not so difficult after all. I have tried it in one of the 
 schools here, and they do it fairly well already." I make 
 this record in the belief that the musical exercises above de- 
 scribed were the first ever undertaken in ■ class-teaching in 
 this country. 
 
 If this seems strange, it must be remembered that we 
 were then in the early times of class-teaching as we know it 
 now. It was not many years before that Wm. C. Wood- 
 bridge (who may be remembered as the author of a once 
 popular geography and atlas) called Mr. Mason's attention 
 to Nageli & PfeifFer's method of adapting Pestalozzi's idea of 
 
52 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFE. 
 
 teaching to vocal music. Mr. Mason liked what he could 
 see of it very much ; then Mr. Woodbridge said to him : " If 
 you will call together a class I will translate and write out 
 each lesson for you (the work was in German) as you want 
 it, and you can try the method ; it will take about twenty- 
 four evenings." This was done, and the class was held in 
 the large lecture room of Park Street Church, Boston. Dr. 
 Mason has often described how he took Mr. Woodbridge's 
 translation in one hand and his pointer in the other, and de- 
 veloped, as well as he could, what was afterward embodied 
 in the " Teacher's Manual of the Boston Academy of Music," 
 as the Pestalozzian method of teaching vocal music in 
 classes. The class was composed largely of prominent peo- 
 ple of the city who were interested in musical education, and 
 all were greatly delighted with the new way. 
 
 That was undoubtedly the first class of its kind ever 
 taught in the English speaking world, and its essential prin- 
 ciples exist now wherever the ideas of key relationship and 
 the movable "do" prevail. Speaking to Dr. Mason once 
 about this remarkable class, I asked him what those ladies 
 and gentleman paid for that course of twenty-four lessons. 
 "Oh, they arranged that among themselves," he repUed. 
 "They decided that five dollars apiece would be about 
 right." "And how many were there in the class?" He 
 smiled as he answered : "About five hundred." 
 
 Up to this time I had not written anything to speak of. 
 I did put together some simple tunes while in Boston, one 
 of which (Rosedale) has come along down in a modest way 
 with its more popular companions, being occasionally sung 
 and asked for at the present time. After I was well under 
 way in New York Mr. Bradbury and Mr. Woodbury used to 
 say : " Root, why don't you make books; we are doing well 
 in that line," — but I had no inclination that way. I am 
 ashamed to say it, but I looked then with some contempt 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAL UFE. 53 
 
 upon their grade of work. My ladies' classes and choirs 
 were singing higher music, and my blind pupils were excit- 
 ing the admiration of the best musical people of the city by 
 their performances of a still higher order of compositions. 
 There was a well-balanced choir of sixty good voices in this 
 institution for the blind, and they worked with an interest 
 and enthusiasm that was wonderful to see. We sang, event- 
 ually, Romberg's setting of Schiller's " Song of the Bell," 
 "Morning," by Ries, several of Mendelssohn's Part-songs, 
 and several choruses from his and other oratorios. " Thanks 
 be to God, He laveth the thirsty land," from " Elijah," I 
 remember they liked best of all, and sang extremely well. 
 
 After a while I began to find it dif&cult to get proper 
 music for my girls at Rutgers and Spingler to sing, and it 
 took so much time to select what was needed and cost so 
 much to get copies enough, that I felt that something must 
 be done in the way, of preparing music especially for them. 
 There was also a strong pressure from classes and teachers 
 — at Rutgers especially — for new music for opening and 
 closing religious exercises. So I got together the material 
 for my first book. It was called " The Young lyadies' 
 Choir." I did not ask anybody to publish it, but just had 
 copies enough made for my own use. I don't think I even 
 copyrighted it, for I had no thought then in regard to com- 
 position and book-making beyond supplying my own needs. 
 This book was used two or three years for devotional exer- 
 cises, but its secular music lasted but a few months, and then 
 my brother and I began the plan of getting up pamphlets of 
 such music as I needed, still seeking no publisher, and 
 thinking only of my own wants. At this time, too, I began 
 to write and arrange music for my choir in the same way, 
 only I did not need so many copies, and so did not go to the 
 expense of having it printed. I had manuscript books for 
 each part, and had each part copied in, or, if I found some- 
 thing printed that I liked, had it cut out and pasted- in. 
 
54 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI. I<IFE. 
 
 The first book that I had anything to do with that 
 sought a pubHsher was made with and at the suggestion of 
 the organist of Dr. Cheever's church, then on the corner of 
 Fifteenth street and Broadway, J. E. Sweetser. It was called 
 " Root & Sweetser's Collection." It contained the music we 
 had been gathering for our choirs, with such other material 
 as we could collect and purchase, and an elementary depart- 
 ment which, for scientific but uninteresting exercises, could 
 not be excelled ; they were taken largely from elementary 
 works that HuUah was then using in England. A few 
 choirs adopted the book, and some of the music is still sung ; 
 but, as a whole, it was not at all adapted for popular use. 
 I did not then realize what people in elementary musical 
 states needed. 
 
 How true it is that to every music lover and learner 
 there is a grade of music in which he lives, so to speak — 
 where he feels most at home and enjoys himself best. When 
 he hears or studies music thaf is above that grade, if he is 
 sensible he simply says : " That is above me; I am not there 
 yet." If he is not sensible, he is liable to say : " There's no 
 music in that." The conversation of two gentlemen at one 
 of our recent Thomas concerts is a good illustration of that 
 condition of things. One says: " Do you call that music? " 
 The other answers : " Yes ; and the best there is — it is a 
 composition by Wagner." To which his friend responds : 
 " Well, for my part, I think Wagner had better stick to his 
 keeping cars, and let music alone." 
 
 People change their musical homes, or rather add to 
 them, as they progress in musical appreciation. At first 
 they care only for the little way-side flowers and simple 
 scenery of the land of tonic, dominant and subdominant. 
 They regard the musical world outside of that boundary as 
 a kind of desert, entirely unfit to live in, and I may add once 
 more, what has often been said in substance, that many 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFE. 55 
 
 people remain in this musical condition all their lives. But 
 those who progress, begin, by and' by, to see some beauty in 
 the sturdier growths and the more varied scenery, and after 
 awhile realize that the still unexplored regions beyond may 
 be yet more beautiful when they are reached. 
 
 But here there is a danger. People in this state are apt 
 to grow conceited, and to despise the simple conditions they 
 once enjoyed. "Unworthy, narrow and bigoted" are the 
 proper terms to apply to such. The way-side flower has its 
 place in the economy of God's creation as truly as the oak, 
 and the little hill and the brooklet are as truly beautiful as 
 the mountain and torrent are grand. 
 
 " But," some one says, " there is so much trash in the 
 simple music of the day." There is trash at every musical 
 grade, even to the highest. How much that is grotesque 
 and senseless is seen in the ambitious attempts of those who 
 follow Wagner, or would rival him in new paths, but have 
 nothing of his transcendent genius. Such are usually among 
 the despisers of the elementary conditions through which all 
 must pass, and in which a majority of the music-loving 
 world must always be. "Trash" of course; so there are 
 oflFensive plants and flowers and disagreeable scenes, but the 
 proportion is small, and I contend that most of the simple 
 music that lives is no more trash than Mozart's " O dolce 
 concento" or "Rousseau's Dream," than which nothing is 
 written that is simpler or more perfect. 
 
 In returning to my story I must not omit to speak of the 
 great musical sensation of 1849 — the advent of Jenny Lind. 
 P. T. Barnum had engaged her for a certain number of con- 
 certs in this country at what was then considered an enor- 
 mous price. With consummate skill he had seized upon the 
 fine reputation which she had among musicians and ex- 
 tended it among all the people. He manufactured and ma- 
 nipulated public opinion until the excitement was intense. 
 
56 THK STORY OF A MUSICAL WPB. 
 
 An angel could not have met the expectation he raised in 
 many minds. 
 
 There was then no hall in New York large enough to 
 hold the people that wanted to see this wonderful being on 
 the occasion of her first concert, so Castle Garden was pre- 
 pared. I think it was arranged to seat about ten thousand 
 people. Even then the lowest priced seats were in the 
 neighborhood of three dollars, if I remember rightly, and a 
 large sum was realized by selling the choice of seats at auc- 
 tion. An enterprising hatter, by the name of Genin, cap- 
 tured fame and fortune by paying six hundred dollars for 
 first choice. 
 
 What a breathless hush rested upon the vast audience 
 when the time came for her first song, and what a burst of 
 welcome greeted her swift coming forward. She was simply 
 dressed in white, and was most statuesque in her apparent 
 calmness as she waited for the orchestra to finish the prelude 
 to " Casta Diva." It was darftig in her, under the circum- 
 stances, to risk a first impression on the long, soft tone with 
 which that aria commences, but it was a great success. 
 While you wondered at its extreme pianissimo you were 
 distinctly conscious that its fine, steady intensity penetrated 
 to the remotest corner of the hall. All were filled with 
 wonder and delight, excepting those victims of the great 
 advertiser, who were bound to be disappointed if her tones 
 were anything like those of a human being. 
 
 She had a long and very successful career in this coun- 
 try, making a large fortune for herself and a much larger 
 one for her enterprising manager. A small financial trans- 
 action of my own, in connection with her concerts, comes 
 freshly to my mind with a good deal of satisfaction. I 
 thought I was commissioned to get a lot of tickets for one 
 of the schools, but it proved I was not, and the tickets were 
 on my hands — about twenty, if I remember rightly. But I 
 
THE STORY OF A MTJSICAI, LIFE. 57 
 
 " Speculated " with them, and made money enough by the 
 operation to pay for all my Jenny I/ind concerts. ^ I heard 
 her first note and her last, both in Castle Garden, and spent 
 nearly nine months abroad between them. 
 
58 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 1850-1851, NEW YORK AND PARIS — GETTING READY FOR A TRIP 
 ABROAD — THE VOYAGE — ARRIVAL IN PARIS — ^A FEW WORDS 
 ON THE STUDY OF A FOREIGN LANGUAGE — THE SINGING 
 AT THE MADELEINE — LESSONS FROM ALARY AND POTH- 
 ARST — A MUSICAL COMPATRIOT — GOTTSCHALK — MEMORA- 
 BLE CONCERTS. 
 
 ABOUT this time I began to feel the eifects of my reckless 
 ■ treatment of a naturally strong and healthy constitu- 
 tion. For years I took a hasty breakfast before other people 
 were up, in order to be with my blind class, nearly two miles 
 off, at half past seven in the morning. Then every working 
 hour through the day was filled with other classes and pri- 
 vate lessons, and some nights in the week with evening 
 work, and if a new pupil wanted my dinner hour I gave it 
 and snatched a lunch as I could get it in place of the regular 
 meal. This, with the Sunday work, gradually sapped my 
 vitality and brought on the usual trouble of overworked 
 people — dyspepsia. 
 
 I think it was early in November of 1850 that Mr. Jacob 
 Abbott said to me one day, " Mr. George, you should stop 
 work for a while. Go to Paris. (He made nothing of 
 picking up his satchel and going across, writing on his books 
 during the voyage, and while there.) The trip will do you 
 good, and Paris is a good place to rest and amuse yourself 
 in, and, if you feel like it when you get there, you can study 
 the language and anything more about music that you 
 wish to know ; for the best teachers of the world congregate 
 there." My wife was considerably astonished when I told 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAL I,IFE. 59 
 
 her what Mr. Jacob had said, and that I beheved I should 
 go. However, she agreed that if it could be managed it 
 would be a good plan. 
 
 The first thing was to see how the church people would 
 feel about it, and how the organ and choir could be attend- 
 ed to during my absence. This was soon ascertained and 
 settled. One of the elders of the church and the chairman 
 of the music committee was John P. Crosby, an older 
 brother of the present Dr. Howard Crosby. He was one 
 of the noblest gentlemen I have ever known, and one of the 
 truest and dearest friends I ever had. He was very musical 
 — entirely competent to teach the choir and play the organ, 
 and in a day or two after I told him my plan I was not sur- 
 prised when he said : " It is all arranged. I^eave Mrs. Root 
 to be our leader, and I'll meet the choir and play the organ 
 for you until you return, and your salary shall go on all the 
 same." I ought to have said that there was no thought of 
 my wife's going with me, partly because that would have 
 been too great a strain on our finances, but more, perhaps, 
 because we then had two little children, F.W., four years 
 old, and Charlie, three years younger. 
 
 I engaged Richatd Storrs Willis (a brother of N. P. 
 Willis, an author of considerable celebrity in those days) to 
 teach for me at Rutgers and Spingler Institutes, and Sigis- 
 mund I^asar to carry on the work at the Institution for the 
 Blind during my absence. Much of my -work would natur- 
 ally have fallen to my brother, but he had a little while 
 before accepted an offer to teach for the winter in Alabama. 
 I took my passage for the fifth of December, 1850, on the 
 Franklin, a new steamer of a new line just established 
 between New York and Havre, and then went to Boston 
 and to the old home to say good-bye. A few days before 
 sailing I decided to get my life insured. I mention it be- 
 cause it was one of the early risks of the "N. Y. Mutual 
 
6o THB STORY OP A MUSICAL LIPE. 
 
 I/ife," now the largest institution of the kind in the world. 
 When I see their present magnificent building I contrast 
 it mentally with the little ofiice in Wall street where I ar- 
 ranged to have a certain moderate sum paid to my wife in 
 case of my death. Although not a large amount it has im- 
 proved considerably since that day, more than forty years 
 ago. 
 
 The " Splendid Steamer Franklin" was a small affair in 
 comparison with the present ocean liners, but, notwithstand- 
 ing she bowed and rolled as gracefully as she could at every 
 wave of that wintry sea, and made nearly all of us very sea- 
 sick, she carried us safely across and landed us in due time 
 (thirteen days, I think) at Havre. I had some letters which 
 enabled me to settle myself pleasantly in Paris almost im- 
 mediately on my arrival. 
 
 One of my plans was to learn as much of the language 
 as possible while there, and I asked a son of my landlady — 
 a young collegian who could speak English a little — if he 
 would give me lessons. He was timid and hesitated about 
 undertaking it, but I told him he would not- have any re- 
 sponsibilitj'; that I would be the teacher and he would have 
 only to obey orders. He agreed, and I commenced with the 
 then popular " OUendorf." 
 
 I had seen a good deal of the teaching of French in the 
 schools in New York, and thought I saw why so few learners 
 were willing to try to speak even short phrases in that lan- 
 guage. They were like piano pupils, who know how their 
 exercises ought to go, but can not make the proper move- 
 ments of their fingers at the proper time — they have con- 
 tinually to stop or stumble for want of muscular control, 
 which simply means want of practice. 
 
 I saw that in French there were new adjustments of the 
 vocal and articulating organs for certain sounds which are 
 not in our own language, and that there were constantly 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAI, LIFB. 6 1 
 
 successions of familiar sounds in an entirely new way. It 
 seemed to me also that just as new and difficult successions 
 of finger movements could only be rendered smooth and 
 certain by much repetition and practice, so the new sounds 
 of a strange language could only be made to follow each 
 other fluently by the same means. 
 
 So, when my youthful teacher would have passed my 
 imperfect pronunciation and hesitating utterance of a phrase 
 because I had all the words right, I said, " No, we have only 
 begun — have only laid out the work for this phrase; now 
 you say it, and I will say it after you, not only until it goes 
 smoothly and unhesitatingly, but has just the right vowel 
 and consonant sounds." I tired that young man dreadfully, 
 but he was rather proud of his pupil after a while. Only 
 once, I remember, I undertook too much. The phrase was : 
 " un pen plus haul " (a little higher), '"and I said : " Now I 
 am going to repeat that after you until there is no foreign 
 accent in it at all, and you say you could not tell it from a 
 Frenchman." But in vain; he was too honest, and the 
 exact shades of difference between the vowels of "peu " and 
 "plus," or some other subtle peculiarity of utterance always 
 caused the same result. " Is it like a Frenchman now? " 
 " Non, monsieur." Again and again I tried. I asked him 
 to show or tell me what caused the difference between his 
 utterance and mine. This he could not do. Each word 
 alone after him he seemed to think right, but when put 
 together it was to his ears a foreigner speaking. All he 
 could say was : "JVenlendez vous pas la difference, monsieur? " 
 And I had to answer that I did not. 
 
 On reflection, I saw that this might be so; for all for- 
 eigners who learn our language after they are grown up, 
 although they may have the entire vocabulary, and for prac- 
 tical purposes may speak as well as a native, are still readily 
 perceived to be foreigners. It is only as children, when the 
 
62 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, WFE. 
 
 organs are tender and can be moulded, that we learn to 
 speak a foreign language without accent. 
 
 If an educational word on this subject would not be con- 
 sidered out of place here, I would say to the piano teacher : 
 When your pupil is not willing to play for friends under 
 proper circumstances, it is generally because he is afraid his 
 fingers will not go right, and that he will be mortified by 
 hesitations or blunders at certain places— in short, he does 
 not want to play because he has not practiced enough to get 
 that muscular control which gives confidence. To the 
 teacher of the foreign language I say the same thing. If 
 your pupil is not willing to speak in the language you are 
 teaching him, it is in most cases because the muscles of the 
 articulating organs will not obey his will — he has not prac- 
 ticed \as five-finger exercises enough, so to speak. 
 
 People like to do what they can do well. If they play 
 the piano well, even though the pieces be simple, they like 
 to play to those who enjoy th^ir music j if they speak read- 
 ily and smoothly in a foreign language they like to exercise 
 their powers in that way, even though they may know but 
 a few phrases and may make many mistakes in construction 
 or grammar. If a piano teacher allows a new exercise or 
 piece before the previous one is perfectly learned, or a 
 French teacher goes on to a second phrase while there is 
 the least hesitation in the utterance of the one at which 
 the pupil is at work, trouble, and, in the end, failure and 
 dissatisfaction will be the certain result. 
 
 I studied the language and looked about the city for two 
 or three weeks before commencing the more regular work 
 that occupied me later. The first thing in a musical way 
 that interested me very much was the singing and organ 
 playing at Christmas time in the Church of the Madeleine. 
 A boy with a wonderful voice sang the melody of the 
 "Adeste Fideles " (" Portuguese Hymn," as we know it) at 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 63 
 
 the priests' end of the church, the choir, which was also 
 there, coming in with the ending of each verse, the organ, 
 which was situated with . the singers, giving a different har- 
 mony with each verse, and then another organ, several 
 times larger, four hundred feet off, over the front entrance, 
 rolled out an interlude between the verses. It was a strange 
 effect to me and very impressive. 
 
 About this time I began taking voice lessons. I forget 
 who it was in New York who told me to go to Giulio Alary, 
 but when I got to Paris I found that he was the great man 
 in that line outside of the Conservatoire. It shows how 
 large the world is, and how fast it moves, that perhaps no 
 one who reads this will ever have heard of this man, who 
 was so conspicuous as a composer and teacher a generation 
 ago in Paris and I^ondon. I sang a good deal with him 
 from an oratorio of his called " I^a Redemption," and while 
 I was with him his opera " I^es Trois Marriages" was per- 
 formed at the Italian opera-house there, with Sontag, La- 
 blache, and Gardoni in the cast. 
 
 At the close of my lesson one day he said : "I am going 
 to the last rehearsal of my opera. You can come with me 
 and hear these people sing if you like." I was in trouble, 
 for I knew I could not make him conceive how th^re could 
 be any conscientious scruples against accepting his invita- 
 tion, but at that time, in the church to which I belonged, it 
 was thought wrong to go to opera or theatrical representa- 
 tions, and I determined when I left home that I would do 
 nothing in Paris that I would not do in New York. So I 
 explained as well as I could why I could not go. He did 
 not understand it at all, as I knew he could not, and evi- 
 dently regarded me as a kind of fanatic — an opinion in 
 which I coincided a few years later. I never felt quite com- 
 fortable with him after that scene, but he soon had to go to 
 lyondon where his opera was next performed, and I went to 
 another teacher. 
 
64 The story of a musical life. 
 
 Jacques Potharst was some kind of a northman by birth, 
 but he had lived in Italy and France nearly all his life, and 
 had been a successful tenor in the Italian Opera. He was a 
 good teacher, and I took lessons of him during the rest of 
 my stay in Paris. One day he said, " I have another Ameri- 
 can pupil, a baritone, whom you must meet. I have some 
 duets that will just suit your two voices." That was soon 
 brought about. My compatriot proved to be a young man 
 by the name of Mann. He was the son of one of our gov- 
 ernment officials, who was, in pursuance of his diplomatic 
 duties, sometimes in one European country and sometimes 
 in another. Just then he was living in Paris. Young Mann 
 had an exceptionally fine baritone voice, and we sang to- 
 gether a good deal, not only at our lessons, but in musical 
 companies, where Signor Potharst seemed to take a good 
 deal of pride in parading his American pupils. 
 
 This young gentleman was a good illustration of what I 
 was saying about the way tq speak a foreign language with- 
 out accent. His father began his diplomatic career when 
 this son, his only child, was very young — about ten years of 
 age I think. He went to school in every country where 
 they made any stay, and was left long enough in each one 
 to acquire the language. His French, German and Italian 
 were absolutely without foreign accent, as I was told by 
 those who knew. I extend this remembrance of my friend 
 because one of those curious happenings that sometimes 
 take place has brought him freshly to my mind. I^ast year 
 one of my neighbors said, "I have rented a house on this 
 street for the summer, to a gentleman by the name of Mann, 
 who says that he knows you — that you were together in 
 Paris forty years ago." I called on him, and instead of 
 the slender youth of eighteen, found a portly gentleman 
 of fifty-eight, now Judge Mann, of Florida, who, with his 
 wife, formerly a Chicago lady, was going to pass the sum- 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI. I,IPE. 65 
 
 mer by I<ake Michigan. I need not say that we renewed 
 our acquaintance, music and all, with much pleasure. 
 
 Before leaving New York a gentleman of my acquaint- 
 ance said to me, " My daughter will arrive in Paris soon 
 after you. The family with whom she is going are not mu- 
 sical, and I shall take it as a great favor if you will see that 
 she has a good piano teacher while she is there. This I 
 readily undertook to do. By good fortune Gottschalk, the 
 great pianist, was passing a few months in Paris, and I found 
 him willing to give some lessons to my young friend, who 
 already played well for an amateur. This was the beginning 
 of an acquaintance with that distinguished man, which con- 
 tinued up to that fatal journey to South America, from which 
 he never returned. 
 
 I say "great pianist" of ly. Moreau Gottschalk advisedly. 
 Critics and some prominent musicians did not call him a 
 great player — all agreed that he was an exquisite player, 
 and all admitted that he was the most popular and success- 
 ful concert pianist that ever played in America, but those 
 who knew him well could testify to his wonderful repertoire 
 of classic music. He could play all of Beethoven by heart, 
 and he delighted in Bach, but he was too honest to play such 
 music to any extent at his popular concerts, and too strong 
 in the consciousness of his own merit to heed those critics 
 who, if they could have their way, would never give the 
 people any music that they could understand and enjoy. 
 
 It was particularly exasperating to hear unfavorable crit- 
 icisms of Gottschalk's compositions, for they are not only 
 understandable and useful to the people, but elegant and 
 musicianly in a high degree. I think it may be said that 
 his are among the most original and characteristic of all 
 American compositions for the piano-forte. 
 
 My daily life was noW pretty regular. OUendorf, voice 
 and piano practice, lessons and recitations until afternoon; 
 
66 The story of a musical life. 
 
 then the picture galleries, museums, libraries, palaces, cathe- 
 drals, parks, gardens, and endless objects of interest until 
 five or six o'clock. Then dinner, and afterward gathering 
 in the parlor for conversation or music. One evening a 
 week at the Protestant Chapel, where I always went on 
 Sunday, and occasionally a concert, occupied my time. 
 
 Two concerts I remember with special interest: One 
 was at a small hall connected with Henri Herz's piano 
 establishment, at which Madame Sontag, Madame Viardot 
 Garcia, I^ablache, and Gardoni, a young tenor of great prom- 
 ise, sang. I do not know that these names will excite the 
 interest now that they did then, and for some years after, 
 over the entire musical world. Sontag was the soprano of 
 her time. Viardot Garcia was not only a great mezzo-so- 
 prano and accomplished pianist, but being the sister of 
 Malibran, one of the greatest singers that ever lived, and 
 then recently deceased, excited great interest wherever she 
 appeared. But lyablache was the king. He had been the 
 greatest basso of the world for a quarter of a century or 
 more. He was a giant in size, his magnificent head crowned 
 with a thick mass of white hair, towering far above his 
 companions as they stood together upon the stage. It had 
 been my greatest desire for years to hear this man, whose 
 fame was greater then than that which any singer enjoys 
 now, that I know of His voice was proportionate to his 
 size, and had the advantage of being trumpet-toned like a 
 tenor, or rolling out like the sub-base of an organ, at his 
 pleasure. It was said that at C-sharp or D above, no orches- 
 tra, however large, could be more than a fair accompaniment 
 when he chose to put forth all his power, and I could readily 
 believe it. I heard his D-flat below, in a concerted number 
 in which all joined, and the ponderous solidity of the long- 
 sustained tone could only be compared to a grand sub-base, 
 though it was much richer in quality than any instrument 
 could produce. 
 
THB STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 67 
 
 Madame Viardot played a difficult waltz by Chopin, to 
 which had been added, in a most musicianly manner, a mel- 
 ody which she sang. It was a curious and wonderful per^ 
 formance. Madame Sontag and I,ablache sang a humorous 
 duet — an Italian singing master giving his favorite pupil a 
 lesson. He was so large and she so petite by comparison, 
 that wlien he nodded his great bushy head in admiring ap-,^ 
 proval of her brilliant execution he brought to mind the 
 old stOry of the lion who found a congenial companion in a 
 canary bird. 
 
 I came near meeting this great man once, but, much to 
 mj^ regret, did not quite succeed. It was while I was taking 
 lefisons from M. Alary. He was one day looking for a song 
 that he wished me to practice, when at last he said, " now I 
 temember; Lablache has it; I will send for it." I asked 
 him to let me call for it on my way home, and he readily 
 consented. He gave me a note which described what was 
 wanted, and I took it to the great basso's apartments, but 
 he was at dinner. I heard his ponderous voice and jovial, 
 laugh in the next room, but did not see him ; his daughter 
 brought me the book. 
 
 The second concert to which I referred was in the Italian 
 Opera-house. It was Rossini's " Stabat Mater," and was the 
 only occasion while I was in Paris that I entered an opera- 
 house or theater. Sims Reeves came over from Ivondon 
 to sing the tenor solos. Down deep in the French heart 
 there is a national animosity to English people, but they 
 could not resist the charm of that performance. At the 
 " Cujus animam " they were wild with delight, and recalled 
 the great tenor again and again. 
 
 The first English tenor of this generation is Edward 
 Ivloyd. In the last generation Sims Reeves was the ac- 
 knowledged best, and in the generation before, Braham. 
 When, therefore, at a recent Musical Festival in Cincinnati 
 
68 THB STORY OP A MUSICAI, LIFE. 
 
 (May, 1888), I heard I/loyd, I had heard the three great 
 tenors of the three generations, and what greatly increased 
 the interest of this fact was, that I heard Braham sing Han- 
 del's " Sound an alarm," Sims Reeves the " Cujus animam," 
 and Edward I/loyd both of those songs. 
 
 Two other concerts I now remember that are perhaps 
 worth mentioning. At one was a new composition by Feli- 
 cien David, conducted by himself. I forget what it was, but 
 at that time he was very famous as the composer of " The 
 Desert," a kind of cantata, founded largely upon Arabian 
 melodies. The new piece was good, but not striking, and 
 verified what Auber was reported as having said: "When 
 David descends from his camel you will find he is not at all 
 remarkable." But what was more especially in my mind 
 when I began to speak of that concert was the performance 
 on that occasion of the " Hallelujah chorus." It was so fast 
 as to be ridiculous. Colossus had lost all his dignity and 
 strength by crossing the channel. 
 
 The other concert that I think of with special interest 
 was an orchestral performance of new compositions by 
 Hector Berlioz, conducted by himself That pale, wild face, 
 surmounted by shaggy locks, black as night, haunted me for 
 months. He was a disappointed man. His works, now 
 taking so high a rank, did not find much recognition in 
 his life-time. 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 69 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 1851, PARIS AND I<ONDON — FOURTH OP JUI,Y — ^THE CONVERSA- 
 TIONAL MODE OF LEARNING FRENCH, AND THE ROMANCE 
 THAT FOLLOWED — TWO CONCERTS AT EXETER HALL, LON- 
 DON — THE LOYALTY OF THE ENGLISH TO OLD FAVORITES 
 — ^THE FIRST world's EXPOSITION — AMERICAN FRIENDS — 
 THE m'CORMICK reaper — THE SEWING MACHINE — THE 
 DAY & NEWELL LOCK — THE YACHT AMERICA — THE NAR- 
 ROW ESCAPE ON THE HOME VOYAGE. 
 
 MY Stay in Paris was just before the famous coup d'etat 
 of l/ouis Napoleon. He was then simply President, 
 but there was a half-concealed anxiety in the community 
 lest they might be on the eve of some outbreak or calamity, 
 as indeed they were. 
 
 When the fourth of July came, six of us Americans 
 decided to make a day of it in honor of the fatherland. We 
 went out to Enghien, a pretty suburb a few miles from 
 Paris, and celebrated in various ways, much to our enjoy- 
 ment and somewhat to the surprise of the natives. We 
 came home for dinner at five o'clock, and then adjourned to 
 the parlor for a grand wind-up. We made speeches and 
 sang songs — ^the " Star-Spangled Banner," "America," and 
 whatever else we could think of that would be appropriate. 
 At last I started " The Marseillaise " — " Ye sons of freedom, 
 wake to glory," etc. I had not proceeded far when good 
 Madame Maffit, our landlady, came rushing in. " O, gentle- 
 men, stop, I beg of you," she said ; " a crowd is collecting 
 in the street — the gendarmes will come — my house will be 
 ruined;" and she flew to the windows, which had been 
 
70 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL I,1FE. 
 
 open, and shut them violently. " Oh, we are only celebrat- 
 ing our American Independence," one of us said. "Well, 
 we are not independent enough yet to sing ' The Marseil- 
 laise,' " she answered. 
 
 That song had been interdicted some time before, and 
 although France was then nominally a Republic, the Gov- 
 ernment was still afraid of its effect upon that inflammable 
 people. An old officer, who had served under the first 
 Napoleon, and had been decorated by the great Emperor 
 himself, was one of Madame Maffit's boarders. He went 
 down to the street, and in some way induced the crowd to 
 disperse. Our landlady assured us that if we had continued 
 five minutes longer we might have had to make our expla- 
 nations at the Prefecture — an ending to our celebration that 
 we certainly should not have enjoyed. 
 
 In pursuance of my plan to improve myself all I could 
 in the French language, I entered into conversation with 
 the natives whenever I had an opportunity. The first Na- 
 poleon's old soldiers were always' to be found in the parks 
 and gardens on pleasant days. They had nothing to do, 
 and were always ready for a talk as soon as they found I 
 was an American. One word about Le grand Empereur, 
 whose memory they worshiped, was enough to see them off, 
 and much practice their garrulous enthusiasm gave me, both 
 in listening to rapid utterances and in framing questions to 
 bring them out. 
 
 But my most important opportunities in this way were 
 in the parlor of our Pension, where all the household as- 
 sembled for a while after dinner. I talked a good deal with 
 two sisters from Metz, whose business it was to copy pict- 
 ures in the I^ouvre and other galleries, mostly for the 
 churches of the provinces. A pretty romance came from 
 this acquaintance, which is worth relating. 
 
 They were intensely interested in all I could tell them 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAL LIFE. 7 1 
 
 of America, about which their ignorance was surprising. 
 Was New York in North or South America? was La Nou- 
 velle Orleans near New York? were thei-e many white 
 people ? had we to be constantly on our guard against the 
 Indians ? etc. They were greatly interested in the daguerre- 
 otypes of my wife and children (there were no photographs 
 then), and utterly astonished at my description of American 
 social life. Could it be possible that a young lady could go 
 to a concert or to the theater alone with a young man, or 
 receive him at her home without the presence of a third per- 
 son? Did they decide upon and arrange their marriages 
 themselves? It seemed incredible. They did not see why 
 good girls might not do all that, but it would not be thought 
 of in France. In fact, nice girls in France could not marry 
 at all unless they had a " portion " (dot). Men they would 
 marry would not have them, and men that would marry 
 them they would not have. I expatiated upon the self- 
 reliance of our girls — how young people married when they 
 fell in love, and of their happy married lives. I grew elo- 
 quent in very ungrammatical French on the advantages of 
 our ways, and volunteered a good deal of information as to 
 probable results if they were in America instead of in 
 France. I would think of something to say that I thought 
 would interest them, and then see if I could say it, not re- 
 alizing the full signification that it might bear to their 
 minds. In fact, it did not seem as if the kind of French I 
 was speaking could mean much of anything, but I should 
 have been considerably astonished if I could have known 
 then how I was making America, and especially New York, 
 appear to them the veritable land of promise. This feeling 
 grew stronger as we became better acquainted. 
 
 I sometimes saw them at their copying in the lyouvre, 
 but, mindful of the proprieties as there regarded, never ac- 
 costed them while they were at their work. I was not 
 
72 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< UKE. 
 
 much of a judge of painting, but what they did seemed to 
 me good. Adfele, the older sister, was exceptionally fine 
 looking, the younger something of an invalid, and the good 
 heart of the former was constantly shown in her tender care 
 of her less favored sister. I admired Adele greatly, and if I 
 thought of some sentence like " I think you would do well 
 in your profession in New York," or, " You would not be 
 long in America without marrying," I would say it as best I 
 could, thinking mainly of its construction and very Uttle of 
 its meaning ; and this was not insincerity — what I said was 
 true enough, but I should have made some further modifica- 
 tion of my sentences if t could have foreseen what they 
 would lead to. 
 
 To finish this little story I shall have to transfer the 
 scene to New York, then I will return and finish the account 
 of my Paris visit. I had not been long at home when the 
 coup d'etat took place. A few weeks after tliat I received a 
 letter from Adele, saying that they had lost nearly all their 
 little property, and that there was then nothing for them to 
 do in France — that their only hope now was America, 
 which, from my representation, was exactly the place for 
 them to go to. She said she should go first alone, and when 
 she had established herself, her sister would join her. She 
 wrote to me because I was the only person in America that 
 she knew — would write again when she had decided what 
 ship to go in, and then would tell me when I might expect 
 her. There was a situation ! I had told her I thought she 
 would do well in New York, but I could not know. How 
 I despised then that conversational mode of learning French. 
 I wrote her at once that perhaps I had been extravagant in 
 my praises of my native land — that I did not know enough 
 about painting to be sure of her success — that in our con- 
 versations the wish had been the father of the thought, etc., 
 etc. But she never received that letter. Before it reached 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFE. 73 
 
 the Other side she had started. She had written me again 
 about when to expect her. Then I set about making in- 
 quiries and preparations. On all sides they said, " If she is 
 a good artist she will succeed ; it all depends on that. She 
 can be profitably employed either in teaching or in painting 
 pictures, if she is really competent." As I did not know 
 whether she answered that description or not I was natur- 
 ally anxious, but the next thing was to get a pleasant home 
 for her. We were still at the boarding-house where my 
 family had stayed during my absence. It was, however, 
 full, much to our regret, for my wife was now deeply inter- 
 ested in the success of my new protegie. However, I found 
 a very pleasant place for her near by, and not knowing what 
 condition her finances would be in at first, assumed all 
 necessary responsibility. 
 
 In due time I received a note from a little French hotel 
 in Murray street: "I have arrived; please come for me." 
 I went at once, and found her none the worse for her voy- 
 age. I took her first to see my wife. The two had heard 
 much of each other, but as one could speak no English and 
 the other no French, their meeting was exceedingly amus- 
 ing. They smiled sweetly on each other, and said all sorts 
 of pleasant and complimerrtary things, which I interpreted 
 to the best of my ability. I believe my wife did manage to 
 say " thank you " in French for some gloves that Mademoi- 
 selle had brought her. Then we all went to the boarding- 
 place that had been arranged for her. She was much pleased 
 with it, and the landlady was evidently much prepossessed 
 in favor of her new lodger. Next we went to the Spingler 
 Institute, where I introduced her to the French teacher, who 
 was a French lady, and to Mr. and Mrs. Abbott. In a day 
 or two she was introduced to the wife of one of the most 
 distinguished physicians of New York, a Swiss lady from 
 one of the French-speaking cantons, and by her to some 
 
74 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< UFE. 
 
 other important people of the city. Everybody was de- 
 lighted with her grace and beauty, and she was a good artist. 
 Some pictures that she brought with her were exhibited in 
 Williams & Stevens' window (they were the great picture- 
 sellers of New York then), and were much admired. She 
 began by teaching and painting some portraits, and in a 
 very short time was fully occupied. It proved that she 
 brought some money with her, but she would not have 
 needed any assistance if she had not, for she was soon in 
 receipt of a much larger income than she had ever enjoyed' 
 in France. She sent for her sister in a few weeks, but the 
 younger lady, who was still in delicate health, found our 
 climate so uncongenial that she soon returned to France. 
 
 And now for the denouement. The second year after 
 Miss Adele's arrival a rich Fifth avenue family, with whom 
 she was a great favorite, invited her to spend the summer 
 with them at the White Mountains. There a wealthy gen- 
 tleman from Cuba fell in love with her, and in the autumn 
 they were married. A year afterward I received a letter 
 from her, filled with praises of her beautiful boy, and calling 
 down blessings upon my head as the cause, to some extent, 
 of her happiness. So the conversational mode of improving 
 in French did not turn out so badly after all. At all events, 
 it was permitted that the promises I made in so careless and 
 unthinking a fashion should all be fulfilled. 
 
 And now to return to Paris. After the first of May, 
 185 1, the Americans that came from I^ondon were in a state 
 of great mortification and disgust at the United States ex- 
 hibit in the great Crystal Palace Exposition — the first aflfair 
 of the kind in which all nations united. They said that the 
 United States Commissioners had insisted upon a large 
 space, and that it was not half filled, and that the chief 
 things there were some plows, and a barrel of shoe-pegs. 
 That was extravagant, of course, but the American depart- 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAL, LIFE. 75 
 
 ment did look plain and uninviting in comparison with the 
 elegant profusion of things from the older and nearer na- 
 tions ; but more of that later. 
 
 Soon after the fourth of July one of my American friends 
 and I started for I,ondon en route for home. This gentle- 
 man was I^evi P. Homer, a young Bostonian, who had been 
 studying music abroad for a year or two, and had been with 
 us at Madame MaflBlt's for a few weeks. He was afterward 
 Professor of Music in Harvard College, and was, I think, 
 the immediate predecessor of the present occupant of that 
 office. He died many years ago. We left Paris on a Friday 
 morning, and arrived in I/ondon that afternoon. The first 
 thing that attracted my attention there was an announce- 
 ment of the " Messiah " at Exeter Hall. It was to be given 
 that evening. My friend was too much shaken up by that 
 abomination of all travelers — the passage across the channel 
 — to go, and I was scarcely better, but I could not miss that 
 opportunity. It was. a magnificent performance — six hun- 
 dred in the chorus, a large orchestra and organ, Clara No- 
 vello, Miss Dolby, Sims Reeves and Carl Formes (at his 
 best) taking the solos, and all under the direction of Sir 
 Michael Costa. The oratorio was not " cut," and took four 
 hours in performance. The alto was sung mostly by men, 
 and one reason of the great perfection of the chorus work 
 was that a large proportion of the singers on all the parts 
 knew the music by heart, and could keep their eyes upon 
 the conductor. 
 
 An incident illustrating the loyality of the English peo- 
 ple to their old favorites comes freshly to my mind in con- 
 nection with that concert. I was early, and found myself 
 seated by a stout, plainly dressed man, who, with myself, was 
 evidently much interested in seeing the audience gather. 
 After a while the members of the orchestra began to take 
 their places, and when an old man with a violoncello en- 
 
76 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 tered, the audience applauded, my neighbor joining heartily. 
 The old man bowed and quietly took his seat. I said : 
 "What is that applause for?" "Oh, that's Mr. I^indley," 
 responded my neighbor, with a strong Yorkshire accent; 
 "he used to be a great solo player, and we always give him 
 a hand in remembrance of old times." I remembered then 
 to have heard that name as the famous 'cellist of the previ- 
 ous generation. This led to further conversation with the 
 good-natured Yorkshireman, who was much interested to 
 learn that I was an American. He introduced a young lady 
 who was sitting by his side by saying : " My daughter and 1 
 always come up to 1/ondon when they sing the ' Messiah.' " 
 A week from that night the same company precisely gave 
 " Elijah." The value of those two performances to me in 
 after years was very great. They were authentic and au- 
 thoritative, both for tempos and style. Of the " Messiah " 
 the tradition was in a direct line from its great author, and 
 " Elijah" had been conducted by Mendelssohn himself but a 
 few years before in Birmingham. 
 
 The day after we arrived in Eondon we went to the 
 Crystal Palace, the same magnificent building that is now in 
 Sydenham. It was then in Hyde Park. As we approached 
 we noticed an odd-looking machine on one side of the en- 
 trance, evidently not thought worthy a place inside. The 
 papers made a good deal of fun of it, as they had of several 
 other "Yankee notions," not realizing what a commotion 
 that weather-beaten apparatus would make when the time 
 for test and trial came. It was a McCormick Reaper. 
 
 When I entered the United States Department I went 
 up to a short, thick-set man, with a most jovial and con- 
 tented expression of countenance, who was sitting on a high 
 box, swinging his feet in true Yankee fashion. " Why, 
 Hobbs, what are you doing here?" was my first greeting. 
 I had not seen him since the old Musical Education Society 
 
THE STORY OP A MCSICAL LIFE. 77 
 
 days in Boston, where he was one of my cronies on the base. 
 He was a machinist by trade, and I knew him then as a 
 bright, pushing fellow. " Oh, I'm representing the Day & 
 Newell lock." " Well, how are you getting along? " "First- 
 rate ; look in the papers to-morrow and you'll see." I told 
 him I had but just come, and did not know what was going 
 on. Would he tell me all about it? "Well, the Bramah 
 lock has been the great lock of England for a long time. It 
 is on the vaults and safes of the Bank of England, and is 
 used everywhere here as the best. There has been a safe in 
 the window of its sales-room for years with this legend upon 
 it : ' There are twenty pounds within this safe which will be 
 given to any one who can pick this lock.' " "And are you 
 going to do it?" "Yes; I have been to see it to-day, and 
 have told them that I should open it to-morrow." "And are 
 you sure you can do it?" "Yes; I don't like the idea of 
 picking a lock, but that is the best way to introduce mine, 
 and, besides, that twenty pounds will come in handy." And 
 he did it. It took him just as many minutes as there were 
 pounds that went into his pocket, and it made a great sale 
 for his lock. I think it was subsequently used in the bank 
 and other public places. 
 
 The first sewing machine was there in charge of two 
 brothers who had been members of Park Street choir. A 
 Philadelphia chairmaker had a new reclining chair that 
 could be adjusted in many ways. Prince Albert, who was 
 the projector of the great enterprise, and Queen Victoria, 
 used often to go in and look about early in the day, before 
 the public was admitted. The Prince was especially inter- 
 ested in ever3rthing that saved labor, or that made in any 
 way for the welfare of the people. One day this Phila- 
 delphian, who, by the way, was originally from Vermont, 
 was in great spirits. He said : " I've had the Queen in that 
 chair this mornin'. I put her into all the positions I could 
 
78 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFB. 
 
 think of, and the Prince he laughed well, and now I'm goin' 
 to put a sign up : ' The Queen has set in that chair, and any- 
 body else who wants to set in it has got to pay a shillin'.' " 
 We left our enterprising countryman anticipating great re- 
 sults from his scheme. 
 
 Of the general and costly magnificence of the Exposition 
 it is not worth while to speak, for the world is familiar with 
 such things now. One thing, however, that was there has 
 not been seen in any other country, and that was the " Kohi- 
 noor," the enormous diamond belonging to the British crown 
 jewels. In this case it was the real article, and not the paste 
 substitute which has sometimes been shown. It was in an 
 octagonal glass and iron case, on an iron pedestal, and was 
 surrounded by a strong railing that prevented people from 
 getting within two or three feet of it, and to further protect 
 it was guarded day and night by four soldiers. 
 
 When the time came for examining the exhibits and 
 awarding the prizes a great change took place in the public 
 mind in regard to the American Department. The rusty, 
 weather-beaten machine, that had been the butt of so many 
 jokes at the expense of the Yankees, was taken out onto a 
 smooth English grain field and set going. The effect was 
 magical. Could this be the ungainly thing they had laughed 
 at ? Such reaping had not been dreamed of The English- 
 man loves fair play, and we got full credit for that, and many 
 other things that had not seemed to be of much account 
 until they were put to use. To crown all, about the same 
 time the new yacht "America" beat the English yacht 
 squadron in a race off the Isle of Wight. The Americans 
 held up their heads after that, and were a little ashamed 
 that they had distrusted the ability of Uncle Sam to" hold 
 his own in this contest of nations. 
 
 We stayed in London about four weeks, and then went 
 to Southampton, where the Havre steamers touched, and 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< LIFE. 79 
 
 took the Humboldt for home. It was a remarkably smooth 
 voyage, though one incident as we neared our coast I shall 
 never forget. I was a little seasick all the way — just enough 
 to be nervous and apprehensive, especially after hearing 
 stories of running into icebergs or fishing craft, and the 
 marvelous things about the density of the fog banks off 
 Newfoundland. But one night I went to bed quite peaceful, 
 for the moon was bright and the air clear, and the ocean 
 almost as calm as a mill-pond. About midnight, however, 
 I was awakened by sudden orders and hurried footsteps 
 overhead, and felt immediately that the ship's side had hit 
 against something, for she heeled over in a most perceptible 
 and alarming way. I sprang out of my berth and called 
 to Mr. Homer, who occupied the upper one, that the ship 
 had struck something. I thought of fishing smacks and 
 icebergs, and was in a state of great nervous excitement 
 while trying to get into my clothes. I feared every moment 
 that soniething worse would happen. My friend started to 
 get out of his berth, but, being but half awake, lost his bal- 
 ance and came down on my back as I was stooping over to 
 put on my shoes. I thought the ship had gone to the bot- 
 tom. I believe I was never so frightened before, or have 
 ever been since. As soon as I recovered I rushed upon 
 deck, and found we were within a hundred yards of the 
 rocks of Cape Race, the eastern point of j^fewfoundland. 
 Strange as it may seem, the ofiScers of the ship had made a 
 mistake in their reckoning, and did not suppose they were 
 within a hundred miles of the cape. They took the wall 
 before them for a fog bank, and if every man had not been 
 at his post when they discovered their error, and had not 
 obeyed the sudden orders instantly, we should have crashed 
 straight on to the rocks and gone down like a broken egg- 
 shell. We afterward learned that our captain had been on 
 the Havre packets (sailing vessels) many years, but that this 
 
8o THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 was his first voyage on a steamer. He said it was a reced- 
 ing wave that made the ship heel over, but she went into 
 dry-dock when we arrived in New York, and was there some 
 weeks, so we knew she was hit. 
 
 It was a hot August morning when we landed, and I 
 remember thinking that everybody we inet on Broadway 
 looked sick — they were so pale and thin. The contrast to 
 the ruddy English people we had just left was striking. 
 New Yorkers and the American people generally are health- 
 ier looking now than they were in those days. The women 
 wear thicker shoes and take more exercise, and both men 
 and women know better about eating, drinking, and the 
 laws of health generally. 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 8 1 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 1851-1853, NEW YORK — " THE FLOWER QUEEN " AND THE FIRST 
 " ROSE " — " WURZEL " AND " THE HAZEL DELL " — MY BEST 
 PIANO PUPIL — THE FIRST NORMAL MUSICAL INSTITUTE — 
 " DANIEL " AND EARLY BOOKS=— THE NEW HOUSE AT WIL- 
 LOW FARM, AND THE SINGING IN THE VILLAGE CHURCH 
 — MY FIRST MUSICAL CONVENTION — THE VALUE OF A 
 SPECIALTY — THE OLD VIOLIN — EARLY ORCHESTRAS. 
 
 I FOUND my family at the old home in North Reading. 
 We had a week or so more of vacation, and then I went 
 back to New York and resumed my work. The first need 
 I felt was for something new for my classes, especially at 
 Rutgers and Spingler Institutes, to sing. This was in the 
 autumn of 1851. Mr. Bradbury had given some floral con- 
 certs with children at the Broadway Tabernacle, and at a 
 recent one had introduced some selections in a connected 
 series. This gave me the idea that a little musical play 
 might be made for girls and young ladies that would be use- 
 ful. I cast about for a subject. It was not difi&cult to find 
 one ; the whole world was open to me, for nothing of the 
 kind had been done. I soon decided that the subject should 
 be fiowers choosing a queen, and that the little play should 
 be called " The Flower Queen." 
 
 At the Institution for the Blind there was at that time a 
 lady who had been a pupil there, but was now a teacher, 
 who had a great gift for rhyming, and, better still, had a 
 delicate and poetic imagination. The name of Fanny Cros- 
 by was not known then beyond the small circle of her per- 
 sonal friends, but it is now familiar, especially wherever 
 
82 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< LIFE. 
 
 Gospel songs are sung. I used to tell her one day in prose 
 what I wanted the flowers or the Recluse to say, and the 
 next day the poem would be ready — sometimes two or three 
 of them. I generally hummed enough of a melody to give 
 her an idea of the meter and' rhythmic swing wanted, and 
 sometimes played to her the entire music of a number be- 
 fore she undertook her work. It was all the same. I/ike 
 many blind people her memory was great, and she easily 
 retained all I told her. After receiving her poems, which 
 rarely needed any modification, I thought out the music, 
 perhaps while going from one lesson to another, (the dis- 
 tances were so great that I had to spend a good deal of time 
 every day in omnibuses or street cars,) and then I caught 
 the first moment of freedom to write it out. Sometimes 
 this was a half hour before dinner or supper, sometimes a 
 little while between lessons, and sometimes an hour at night. 
 This went on until the cantata was finished. 
 
 I can truly say that I had no other thought in this work 
 than my own needs. I did not know that it would ever be 
 heard outside of the walls of the institutions in which I was 
 teaching. I had to have it printed because I needed so 
 many copies myself, and this time it fell into good hands. 
 The two older sons of Dr. Mason were then book-sellers and 
 publishers in New York, under the firm name of Mason 
 Brothers. They willingly undertook to supply me with 
 copies, and they said, " We'll publish it regularly — others 
 may want what you want," and so it proved. 
 
 I have often been glad that I did not begfin earlier to 
 write for publication. It was not a noble motive that re- 
 strained me, but our foolishness is often overruled to our 
 advantage. By delaying I had become better equipped. I 
 had heard a good deal of good music, and had been obliged 
 to teach some of a high order. Everything that my blind 
 pupils sang I had to know in the most thorough manner. 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< I,IPB. 83 
 
 My acquaintance with some of the best musicians of the day 
 was such as to bring me into close contact with what they 
 performed and liked, and in my family we were familiar with 
 music of a grade considerably above that of the popular mu- 
 sic of the day. The reservoir was, therefore, much better 
 filled than it would have been if I had commenced when 
 urged to do so by the friends of whom I have spoken, and 
 the comparatively simple music that I have written from 
 that time to this has included a greater variety of subjects, 
 and has been better in quality in consequence. 
 
 I saw at once that mine must be the "people's song," 
 still, I am ashamed to say, I shared the feeling that was 
 around me in regard to that grade of music. When Stephen 
 C. Foster's wonderful melodies (as I now see them) began 
 to appear, and the famous Christy's Minstrels began to make 
 them known, I " took a hand in " and wrote a few, but put 
 " G. Friederich Wurzel" (the German for Root) to them in- 
 stead of my own name. " Hazel Dell " and " Rosalie, the 
 Prairie Flower" were the best known of those so written. 
 It was not until I imbibed more of Dr. Mason's spirit, and 
 went more among the people of the country, that I saw 
 these things in a truer light, and respected myself, and was 
 thankful when I could write something that all the people 
 would sing. 
 
 " The Flower Queen " served an excellent purpose, both 
 as an incentive to work on the part of the classes, and as an 
 entertainment for the friends of the schools. I served in the 
 double capacity of Recluse and stage manager in the first 
 performances, and fear the latter character appeared some- 
 times during the performance of the former much to the 
 detriment of that dignitary. However, we always rehearsed 
 thoroughly, and the success of those first representations was 
 all that could be desired. The first " Rose " is worth telling 
 about. 
 
84 THE STORY OP A MUSICAL LIPS. 
 
 Two or three years before, I noticed one day a strange 
 voice among my four hundred at Rutgers. It did not seem 
 loud, but it pervaded the whole room and was exceedingly 
 rich in quality. It seemed so mature that I looked among 
 the young ladies for it at first, but there was no stranger 
 among them. Then I stepped down from the platform and 
 walked back among the younger girls and soon discovered 
 her, a small brunette, twelve or thirteen years old, with 
 laughing eyes and a profusion of dark, wavy hair hanging 
 unconfined about a handsome, dark face. That was her first 
 day at the school, but she soon became our prima donna, and 
 the name of Annie Thomas will not soon be forgotten by 
 those who heard her during those years at Rutgers, and 
 afterward in her more prominent musical life in New York. 
 
 I used to take my pupils occasionally to hear the blind 
 people sing. Annie was a great favorite there. She not 
 only captivated the class, but in a special and particular way 
 a young gentleman who not only could hear her voice, but 
 see her face. He was a theological student, temporarily 
 teaching there. He had a younger brother who was a part 
 of the time in the Institution, I think, as an oflSce boy. This 
 theological student sought an introduction to my young 
 lady and I introduced him. A few years after he married 
 her. He is now the Rev. Wm. Cleveland, of Forestport, N. 
 Y., and the oflSce boy was, not long ago. President of the 
 United States. 
 
 Speaking of my best singer in New York, on account of 
 her connection with a well-known personage, brings to my 
 mind my best piano pupil, a lovely young girl of thirteen or 
 fourteen. If you will read Charles Dudley Warner's "My 
 Summer in a Garden," you will be much amused at his allu- 
 sions to his wife who was this young girl. I hope she has 
 not forgotten the Cramer's studies she played so well. 
 
 With every Teacher's Class and Convention that I at- 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< LIFE. 85 
 
 tended with Mr. Mason and Mr. Webb I became more inter- 
 ested in the improvement of the teachers who came to be 
 instructed. I saw how inadequate the time was for much 
 improvement, not only in my department (the voice), but in 
 the art of teaching and in harmony and general musical 
 culture. Early in 1852 I conceived the idea of having a 
 three months' session for this work. It must be in the sum- 
 mer, because then the teachers had more leisure. It must 
 be in the city of New York, for I must be there where my 
 work was. I knew the expenses of advertising and place 
 of meeting would be large, but I believed that from all the 
 States and Canada enough teachers, and those who wished 
 to become such, would come, to save the enterprise from 
 pecuniary loss. 
 
 I went immediately to Boston, where Mr. Mason still 
 lived, and told him my plan. It did not strike him at first 
 as feasible. He did not believe any considerable number of 
 persons could be induced to come, especially from a distance, 
 on account of the great expense of traveling and of such a 
 stay in New York City, in addition to the cost of instruction. 
 I said, " Well, I am going to have such a class. You are the 
 proper person to appear at the head of it, and to be the real 
 head when it comes to the teaching, but I do not expect you 
 to do any of the work of getting it up ; I'll see to that. It 
 will be a better opportunity than you have ever had to make 
 your ideas of notation, teaching, and church music really 
 known, for you will have time enough thoroughly to indoc- 
 trinate people with them, and that you know you never have 
 had in Teachers' Classes and Conventions." 
 
 I knew this would move him if anything would. No 
 word of money or remuneration for his services passed 
 between us, and I take this opportunity to say that Lowell 
 Mason was the most misjudged man in this respect that I 
 ever knew. He had plenty of money. It came in large 
 
86 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, I<IFE. 
 
 sums from his works, but I do not believe he ever made a 
 plan to make money, unless when investing his surplus 
 funds. In his musical work it was always " Is this the best 
 thing — will it be received — will it do the most good?" It 
 was a clear case in its sphere of seeking first what was right 
 and finding that all other things were added. And now that 
 I am about it, I will say further of this remarkable man, that 
 although great in every way, intellectually and morally as 
 well as musically, he was like a child if any error could be 
 pointed out in his works or defect in his teaching. It was 
 not often that either thing happened, but when it did, it was 
 " Is that so? I/Ct us see," and prompt correction took place 
 whenever he saw he was wrong. A favorite saying with him 
 was, "Error makes us weak — truth makes us strong." 
 
 As I am writing these recollections I open my morning 
 paper and the following item catches my eye. It is worth 
 inserting here, but first I will explain that Mr. Mason was 
 a Massachusetts man by birth, _.but lived for a while in 
 Savannah, Ga. From there he was induced to return to 
 Boston, by some prominent citizens who knew of his gifts, 
 and believed that he could inaugurate the musical reform 
 that they felt was needed. " Missionary Hymn " was, I am 
 quite sure, his first publication. 
 
 When Bishop Heber's famous missionary hymn, " From Green- 
 land's Icy Mountains," which he wrote in 1824 when in Ceylou, first 
 reached this country, a lady in Savannah was much impressed with 
 the beauty of it, and was particularly anxious to find a tune suited to 
 it. She ransacked her music in vain, and then chancing to remember 
 that in a bank down the street was a young clerk who had consider- 
 able reputation as a musical genius, she decided to ask him to write 
 a tune to fit it. He readily complied with her request, and the mel- 
 ody thus dashed oflf is to-day sung all over the world, and is insepar- 
 ably connected with the hymn. The young bank clerk was Lowell 
 Mason. 
 
 Mr. Mason finally agreed to be at the head of the enter* 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, UFE. 87 
 
 prise, which I decided to call " The Normal Musical Insti- 
 tute," but he said he had promised to go to England for a 
 short visit. " When did I wish to commence ? " "In June," 
 I told him — ^June, July and August, I thought, should be the 
 months. Well, he would be back in time without doubt. 
 Then I went back to New York, and with Mason Brothers, 
 the publishers, I took a different line of argument. I said : 
 " It will be a great thing for the sale of your father's books 
 to have his methods and music better understood than they 
 can be in the shorter gatherings. (I had no books of my 
 own then for such work.) Will you do the work of making 
 the right people know of this all over the country? " They 
 said they would, and they did. The responses were most 
 encouraging, but a change took place in our plans. A few 
 weeks before the time set to begin, Mr. Mason wrote that he 
 could not be back until in the summer, perhaps not until the 
 autumn. He had found work to do in England that delighted 
 him, and that he felt was useful, and we must go on with the 
 Institute without him, or defer the opening until the next 
 summer. The brothers said, "We believe this is going to be 
 a success, and if you will put it off we will not only pay all 
 the expenses incurred thus far, but all the expenses of ad- 
 vertising it for next year. To this I readily agreed, as I did 
 not wish to begin without the " master." So the notice of 
 postponement, with explanations, was sent wherever the 
 Institute had been advertised, and to all who wrote about 
 coming, and the matter rested. 
 
 It will be of interest to mention that Mr. Mason's work 
 in England had reference principally to congregational sing- 
 ing, although he gave some lessons in his incomparable way 
 in the elementary principles of music. The Rev. John Cur- 
 wen, father of the present Messrs. Curwen, and founder of 
 the tonic-sol-fa method of notation, was present at many of 
 Mr. Mason's lectures and lessons, and was greatly interested 
 
88 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFE. 
 
 in both. Tonic-sol-fa was in its infancy then. Mr. Mason 
 spoke of it as a simple notation for the poor people of Mr. 
 Curwen's congregation. He had no idea that its use would 
 extend much farther than that. It is certain that these two 
 men — the one having exercised a vast influence for good on 
 the singing of the people in America, and the other destined 
 to perform a similar use in England — were sincerely attached 
 to each other. 
 
 In the summer of 1853 the first Normal Musical Institute 
 was held. Its sessions were in Dodworth's Hall, Broadway, 
 New York, and continued three months. The principal 
 teachers were Lowell Mason, Thomas Hastings, Wm. B. 
 Bradbury and myself; assistant teachers, John Zundel, 
 J. C. Woodman, and some others, for private lessons, whose 
 names I do not now recall. The terms were $25 for the 
 normal course ; $50 if private lessons were added. There 
 were upwards of a hundred from abroad, and enough sing- 
 ers from the city to make a gQod chorus. I think we met 
 but one evening a week for chorus practice ; certainly not 
 more than two. Working as we did all through the day in 
 the hot city, we did not think it safe to add much evening 
 work. We gave no concerts. It was years before the 
 " Normal " thought of deriving any revenue in that way. 
 In fact, it was not exactly business to any of us (excepting 
 to those who gave private lessons). Each had his regular 
 occupation in other ways. As the years went on, modifica- 
 tions in many things were made, and improvements in some 
 of the studies introduced, but the main objects of the institu- 
 tion and the program of daily work have remained in this, 
 and have been adopted in the other institutes that have 
 sprung up since, essentially as in that first memorable 
 session. 
 
 About this time I gathered the best of the material to- 
 gether that we had been using in Rutgers and Spingler 
 
THB STORY OF A MUSICAL 1,1KB. 89 
 
 Institutes, and with some new music, and an elementary 
 course taken from Mr. Mason's books, embodied all in the 
 "Academy Vocalist,'' my first work of any pretension for 
 schools. Through the energy of the pubUshers, and the fact 
 that other teachers and schools experienced the same needs 
 that we felt, the book had considerable success. The 
 " Flower Queen " quickly became popular, and " Hazel Dell " 
 began the run which was not to end until the boys whistled 
 it and the hand organs played it from Maine to Georgia, and 
 no ambition for a song-writer could go higher than that. 
 
 These successes gave me a new inclination to write, and 
 I decided that I would next make a cantata for my choir. 
 At this time one of the students in the Union Theological 
 Seminary was C. M. Cady, who, afterward, with my brother 
 K. T. Root, started the firm of Root & Cady in Chicago. I 
 decided on "Daniel" as the subject, and Mr. Cady and 
 Fanny Crosby helped me in preparing the words. About 
 the time the cantata was completed I was approached with 
 reference to making a church-music book with Mr. Brad- 
 bury. This I was very glad to do, and "The Shawm " was 
 the result. All interested thought it would be a good plan 
 to print the new cantata at the end of the book — that many 
 of its choruses could be used as anthems, and that some of 
 its solos and quartets might also find a place in church serv- 
 ice. So that was done ; but in order that Mr. Bradbury's 
 name might rightfully appear as joint author, I took out two 
 of my numbers from the cantata, and he filled their places. 
 "The Shawm " was a success, but the cantata was so much 
 called for, separate from the book, that it was not bound up 
 with it after the first or second edition. Its place was filled 
 with set pieces, and " Daniel " has been printed as a book by 
 itself ever since. 
 
 And now I decided to build a new house on the old place 
 at North Reading, not only better to accommodate the clan 
 
go THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< LIFB. 
 
 which assembled there every summer, but for the greater 
 comfort of the dear people who stayed there all the time. 
 So one of my boy friends, then a prosperous carpenter in the 
 town, came to New York, and we agreed upon a plan which 
 on his return met the approval of the home folks and was 
 speedily carried out. The delight with which we went into 
 the new and completed house at Willow Farm at our next 
 vacation can not be described. No palace ever gave kingly 
 occupants greater pleasure. In the old red house the sway- 
 ing branches of the great elm did not reach our windows ; 
 now we were right up under them. There, close by, at the 
 end of a long, graceful bough, was where the oriole, in his 
 gorgeous red costume, swung his hammock every year, and 
 there it was, as we looked, rocking as of yore in the summer 
 breeze. 
 
 It was not only delightful for us to be at the old home in 
 the summer, but a great gratification to give some extra 
 pleasure to the old friends of tljp little town. This was princi- 
 pally done by singing in church on Sunday, though we some- 
 times gave a concert on a week evening, to which everybody 
 was invited. There were so many of us, and always some 
 musical friends to swell the number, that we had an excel- 
 lent choir — one that would have been acceptable anywhere. 
 We all remember well a tall, shy boy, who then was an ap- 
 prentice to a farmer in the town, who used to listen with 
 wonder and delight to our music, and who has told me since 
 th^t he could not have looked upon princes with greater 
 awe than he did upon us in those days. He is now one of 
 Chicago's millionaires. One of his "deals" on the Board of 
 Trade will ever be memorable in the history of that institu- 
 tion. Six hundred and fifty thousand dollars clear in one 
 day, not to mention the enormous profits of other days dur- 
 ing the operation ! His name is B. P. Hutchinson. A few 
 years ago we rode up from Boston one summer day, to see 
 
THB STORY OP A MUSICAI< LIFE. 91 
 
 the old friends. He enjoyed greatly being where people 
 called him "Ben,'\and treated him as if he were no more 
 than common folks. 
 
 My life now went on very pleasantly in New York, but 
 I began to be asked to conduct musical conventions in the 
 neighboring states. My connection with the Teachers' Class- 
 es, and the "Normal" recently held, and with Mr. Brad- 
 bury in " The Shawm," had brought me more before the 
 singers of the country. I declined at first, partly because I 
 did not like to take the responsibility of the entire conduct 
 of one of those gatherings, and partly because I did not care 
 to break into my regular work. But finally I decided to try 
 it, and accepted a call from Sussex county. New Jersey, and 
 now I miss again my lost diary. With that I could have 
 told exactly when and where I had my first convention ex- 
 perience ; who employed me ; who the clergymen and prom- 
 inent musical people of the section were ; where I stayed, 
 and who invited me to dinner or tea ; who were the solo 
 singers ; what books I used, and how much I received. But 
 as it is I can only recall a pleasant scene in a hilly country, 
 with a crowd of happy people, who took kindly to my way 
 of teaching and entertaining them. 
 
 My first successful song ("Hazel Dell") was published 
 in 1852 by Wm. Hall & Son, who then occupied a store on 
 the corner of Broadway and Park Place. This was followed 
 by a contract with this house, by which I was to give them 
 all my sheet music publications for three years. My broth- 
 er had returned from the South, and becoming tired, as he 
 said, of being, as a teacher, only " Mr. Root's brother," de- 
 cided to learn the music business, and was then a clerk in 
 the Hall establishment. 
 
 The Messrs. Hall were the publisher's of Gottschalk's 
 and Wm. Vincent Wallace's music at that time, and I fre- 
 quently met those gentlemen there. Wallace, who may be 
 
92 THB STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFE. 
 
 remembered as the author of " Maritana," an opera quite 
 popular at one time, and still somewhat sung, and of many 
 fine songs and pianoforte compositions, was a distinguished 
 pianist and a fine violinist. As a concert player upon either 
 instrument he would have been a success, but undertaking 
 to give concerts upon both, he failed. It is a curious fact 
 that the public will not give a musician a high place in its 
 esteem if he makes himself prominent in two or more spe- 
 cialties, however excellent he may be in them. 
 
 I remember once seeing a great conductor step down 
 from his platform and play a solo upon the violin. It was 
 done, of course, extremely well, but everybody felt that he 
 had " stepped down " in more senses than one. Carl Zer- 
 rahn, the able and popular conductor of the Handel and 
 Haydn Society of Boston, and of the Worcester and other 
 Festivals, came over to this country with the Germania 
 orchestra as a solo flute player, but I dare say that not a 
 dozen people of the tens of thousands who have placed him, 
 in their estimation, upon the highest round of the ladder in 
 his specialty, know that he plays that instrument at all, and 
 were he to take his flute some day instead of his baton, and 
 give them a solo, he might astonish them, but he would have 
 to pay for that pleasure by " stepping down " a round, music- 
 ally, in their estimation. Mr. Zerrahn sings well, but he 
 never sings a song. He understands perfectly the value of 
 having but one specialty in the public mind. 
 
 " Hall's " was a famous rendezvous for musical people. A 
 frequent visitor was Captain Brooks, who owned and ran a 
 little steamboat from New York to Bridgeport, Conn. He 
 was an enthusiastic and indefatigable collector of old violins. 
 He would often rush in and want some one to go down to 
 his boat with him and see a new violin — "a real Stradi- 
 varius " or " Guarnarius," or something of the kind. He 
 could not play much, but through his great interest in the 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, I<IFE. 93 
 
 subject he had become a pretty good judge of the instru- 
 ment, and if he was sometimes deceived as to the maker he 
 had no poor ones in his collection. One day he was particu- 
 larly excited, and wanted some of us to go with him and see 
 a violin that he had just paid some hundreds of dollars for. 
 A slight, smooth-faced, decidedly handsome young fellow, 
 who was known to play the violin well, was there, and Cap- 
 tain Brooks induced him to go and try it. I could see that 
 the young violinist was skeptical as to the great merits of 
 the instrument, as claimed by the excited Captain. But 
 when he took it into his han'd, before he touched bow to 
 string, his whole manner changed (though what he could 
 see in that glance I could not imagine), and when he tucked 
 it lovingly under his chin the rest of the world was nothing 
 to him for half an hour or more. He was entranced, and so 
 were we. It was a rare and beautiful instrument, and the 
 young player was Theodore Thomas. 
 
 Speaking of the "Germania" reminds me of the delight 
 with which we listened to the first fine orchestra that came 
 to this country. It was called the Steyermarkische orches- 
 tra. It was not large, about twenty players, if I remember 
 rightly, but they played in tune, and the smoothness so pro- 
 duced was a revelation. Their shading and pianissimo play- 
 ing were also new and delightful. They had a successful 
 tour and went home. This must have been about 1846. 
 Then came the Germania orchestra, with Carl Bergmann for 
 conductor. They gave concerts in our principal cities, and 
 finally disbanded here, most of its members remaining on 
 this side of the water. 
 
 The only other foreign orchestra to come to this country 
 was JuUien's ; I forget whether just before or just after the 
 Germania, but probably at about the same time. JuUien was 
 a talented man and an able conductor, but he was much 
 laughed at for his flashy taste in dress and his funny affecta- 
 
94 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFB. 
 
 tions. He brought with him a gorgeous conductor's stand 
 and platform, and a magnificent chair, all apparently of 
 ebony and gold. After each number he would sink into this 
 great chair and let his arms fall as if the splendid perform- 
 ance had entirely ejihausted him, for the performances, al- 
 though of the sensational order, were fine. Bottesini, the 
 great contra-bass player, was in this compau}'. I see he is 
 prominent in Europe now as an author and conductor. 
 
 But it was the oboe player who created the greatest sen- 
 sation. He was the first one here to continue a tone while 
 taking breath. I shall never forget the curious effect upon 
 the audience when, at a cadenza, the accompaniment ceased 
 and a long tone commenced. After it had continued to the 
 utmost bounds of the longest breath there was a distressed 
 holding of breath by the audience, and when it still went on, 
 strong and clear, the excitement was intense. A little longer 
 and everybody saw he must have taken breath somehow, 
 and the relief and applause were tremendous. The instru- 
 ment requires but little breath, and he could supply it from 
 the mouth on the principle of a bellows, while filling his 
 lungs through the nostrils. 
 
 We do not now have to get orchestras from the other 
 side of the water, nor to go over there to hear the best. 
 Theodore Thomas has rendered both unnecessary by the 
 impulse he has given to the formation of first-class orches- 
 tral combinations in this country. 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, I,IFE. 95 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 1853-1855, NEW YORK — A PRANK STATEMENT — GENIUSES IN 
 MUSrC — " THE SHINING SHORE " — EARI<Y BOOKS — THE FIRST 
 AMERICAN-MADE DOCTOR OP MUSIC — EARI^Y CONVENTIONS 
 AT RICHMOND, VA., AND IN THE WEST — PREPARING TO 
 I,EAVE NEW YORK — HOW THE NORMAL WENT TO NORTH 
 READING. 
 
 BEFORE going on to speak more at length of my com- 
 positions and books, I desire to make a frank statement 
 with regard to myself and my work in that line ; and my 
 first remark is, that I never felt in the least that I had a 
 " call " to be a musical composer. My first efforts, as I have 
 shown, were made to supply my own wants, and it was only 
 on finding that they were in a good degree successful for my- 
 self and others that I continued them. 
 
 I can truly say I never dreamed of eminence as a writer of 
 music, and never had fame for an object. Some of my friends 
 who knew who " Wurzel " was, used to say : "Aim high; he 
 who aims at the sun will reach farther than he will who has 
 a lower object for a mark." But I saw so many failures on 
 the part of those who were " aiming high " in the sense in- 
 tended, and trying to do useless great things, that I had no 
 temptation in that direction, but preferred to shoot at some- 
 thing I could hit. 
 
 I did, on two or three occasions, write what I knew would 
 not be needed, but in every case had an object. Once, two 
 prizes were offered by the publishers of a musical paper in 
 New York — fifty dollars for the best four-part song, and 
 twenty-five dollars for the second best. I sent in two, anon- 
 
96 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIF^. 
 
 ymously, (as all had to do,) and took both prizes. Two of 
 the judges were loud despisers of " trash," as they indiscrimi- 
 nately called all simple music, and were much disgusted 
 when they learned who had taken the prizes. 
 
 Friends used to say : " Root, why don't you do something 
 better than ' Hazel Dell,' and things of that grade?" I used 
 to answer : "If you and other musicians wished to use songs 
 of a higher grade, either for teaching or for your own sing- 
 ing, do you suppose you would take mine when you could 
 get Schubert or Franz, or even Abt, at the same price or 
 less? " They were generally silent at that, and then I would 
 tell them that in the elementary stages of music there were 
 tens of thousands of people whose wants would not be sup- 
 plied at all if there were in the world only such music as 
 they (the critics) would have ; but 
 
 " Convince a man against his will — 
 He's of the same opinion still." 
 
 So they continued harping upon the well-worn subject. At 
 last I thought I would publish a song or two above the grade 
 of the " People's song." It was much easier to write where 
 the resources were greater; where I did not have to stop and 
 say, " That interval is too difficult," or " That chord won't 
 do," and I produced two or three that I knew would never 
 be wanted to any extent. But they gave me the opportunity, 
 when the old question came, " Why don't you do something 
 better?" to say " Have you ever seen or heard of ' Gently, 
 Ah, Gently,' or ' Pictures of Memory ? ' " To which they 
 would have to answer " No," and I could say " That is why 
 I do not write ' something better,' as you call it. Neither 
 you nor any one else would know anything about my work 
 on that grade, and I should be wasting my time in trying to 
 supply the wants of a few people, who are already abundantly 
 supplied by the best writers of Europe." Then they would 
 say, " Well, it is nothing to write those little songs." I re- 
 
THB STORY OP A MUSICAL UPB. 97 
 
 member one, especially, then an eminent musician in New 
 York, who said : " I could write a dozen in a day," and, 
 thinking there might be money in it, he did try under a nom 
 de plume. But his dozen or less of " simple songs " slum- 
 bered quietly on the shelves of a credulous publisher until 
 they went to the paper mill. It is easy to write correctly a 
 simple song, but so to use the material of which such a song 
 must be made that it will be received and live in the hearts 
 of the people is quite another matter. 
 
 Geniuses among musical composers, that is, those who 
 invent and give to the world new forms and harmonies that 
 live, are rare — ^but two or three appear in a century. Of 
 such, Beethoven in his day and Wagner in this, are conspic- 
 uous examples. Then there are great composers, who, al- 
 though not inventors in the above sense, make use of exist- 
 ing material in such new and wonderful ways that their mu- 
 sic not only delights and benefits the world, but is regarded 
 in an important sense as original. Of such it seems to me 
 that Mendelssohn is in the highest rank. 
 
 In all grades from the simplest to the highest — from 
 Stephen C. Foster to Wagner, and in every kind of instru- 
 mental music, compositions divide themselves into two 
 "classes in another way. In one class are the comparatively 
 few compositions having that mysterious vitality of which I 
 have spoken ; that power to retain their hold upon the hearts 
 of the people after their companions of the same grade, and 
 by the same composer perhaps, are forgotten. In the other 
 class are those which create a temporary interest if any, and 
 soon pass away. I do not think a composer ever knows 
 when that mysterious life enters his work. If I may judge 
 by my own experience, successes are usually surprises, and 
 the work that we think best while we are doing it, is Uable 
 to be considered in a very different light by the public. 
 
 That applies, however, to single compositions and not to 
 
98 THE STORY OP A MUSICAI, LIFE. 
 
 books. One maj'^ think he is making a good instruction 
 book, or putting together a good collection of music, with- 
 out being mistaken. I should like to enlarge upon this point 
 when I come to speak of particular compositions. All I 
 want seen now is, that I am simply one, who, from such 
 resources as he finds within himself, makes music for the 
 people, having always a particular need in view. This, it 
 seems to me, is a thing that a person may do with some 
 success, without being either a genius or a great composer. 
 
 My next book, I think, was the " Musical Album." It was 
 on the plan of the "Academy Vocalist," and followed that 
 work when my classes wanted something new. I now wrote 
 some every day, taking the intervals between lessons and 
 occasionally an evening for that purpose. I also took a 
 course of lessons during one of those winters from an excel- 
 lent harmonist and teacher, a Frenchman by the name of 
 Girac. 
 
 Mason Brothers published a' musical monthly called The 
 Musical Review, and at one time I undertook to supply 
 music for each number. I remember once when the boy 
 came for copy I had none ready, but looking into the drawer 
 of my desk I found a piece that I had written some months 
 before and thrown aside as not being of much account. I 
 sent this for want of something better. It was "There's 
 Music in the Air," and illustrates what I was saying a little 
 while ago about not knowing when we do that which will 
 touch the popular heart. 
 
 But it was at Willow Farm that I enjoyed my writing 
 and book-making most. However we might be confined in 
 New York by the summer Normal, we always had two or 
 three weeks before the autumn work commenced at the old 
 place, or, I might say now, the new place. With the dear 
 mother about the house, and father attending to farm mat- 
 ters, with children or grand-children always around one or 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAI< LIFE. 99 
 
 the other, an atmosphere was there which was very favorable 
 to the work I was doing. One day, I remember, I was work- 
 ing at a set of graded part-songs for singing classes, and 
 mother, passing through the room, laid a slip from pne of 
 her religious newspapers before me, saying: "George, I 
 think that would be good for music." I looked, and the 
 poem began, " My days are gliding swiftly by." A simple 
 melody sang itself along in my mind as I read, and I jotted 
 it down, and went on with my work. That was the origin 
 of " The Shining Shore." 
 
 Later, when I took up the melody to harmonize it, it 
 seemed so very simple and commonplace that I hesitated 
 about setting the other parts to it. But I finally decided 
 that it might be useful to somebody, and completed it, though 
 it was not printed until some months afterward. When, in 
 after years, this song was sung in all the churches and Sun- 
 day-schools of the land, and in every land and tongue where 
 our missionaries were at work, and so demonstrated that it 
 had in it that mysterious life of which I have spoken, I tried 
 to see why it should be so, but in vain. To the musician 
 there is not one reason in melody or harmony, scientifically 
 regarded, for such a fact. To him, hundreds of others now 
 forgotten were better. I say so much about this little song 
 because it is a particularly good illustration of the fact that 
 the simplest music may have vitality as well as that which 
 is higher, and that the composer knows no more about it in 
 one case than in the other. 
 
 The newspaper slip containing this hymn which my 
 mother handed me had no author's name attached. It was 
 some years before I learned that it was the Rev. David Nel- 
 son who wrote it, and it was but recently that the following 
 sketch of his life, taken from "Asa Turner and His Times," 
 was sent to me : 
 
lOO THB STORY OP A MUSICAL WFE. 
 
 David Nelson was born in East Tennessee in 1793 ; graduated 
 from Washington College in 1809. He at first studied medicine, but 
 afterward entered the ministry and preached in Tennessee and Ken- 
 tucky, and finally removed to Missouri. He was six feet and two 
 inches high, and had a voice of great power and melody, which he 
 used with great success, anticipating the singing evangelist of to- 
 day. 
 
 He opened a plantation in Missouri in true southern style, but 
 an address by Theodore D. Weld changed his sentiments and led 
 him to say, " I will live on roast potatoes and salt before I will hold 
 slaves." He became an advocate of colonization, and, in 1831, at the 
 close of a camp-meeting, read a notice calling people to meet to dis- 
 cuss the project. Disorder followed, and Dr. Nelson was driven from 
 his home by a body of armed men. After three days and nights of 
 wandering he came to the great river, and made known his condi- 
 tion to friends in Quincy, Illinois, on the opposite side — there, far 
 away. 
 
 Hiding in the bushes, with the Mississippi at the foot of the 
 bluflf " gliding swiftly by," and "friends passing over" to and from 
 a free state — a safe landing on which he could" almost discover," he 
 wrote on the backs of letters the Christian psalm of life, " My days 
 are gliding swiftly by." 
 
 Two members of the Congregational Church in Quincy, at dusk 
 paddled a " dug-out " across the river and fished in the slough near 
 the western shore. Learning by signs just where Dr. Nelson was, 
 they let their boat float down toward the Missouri " strand." With 
 huge strides the fugitive evangelist came down, and the slavehold- 
 ing scouts were foiled. 
 
 Dr. Nelson, well-nigh starved, asked if they had brought him 
 anything to eat. " Something in the bag," replied one of the 
 brethren, rowing with all his might. The brave but famished man 
 brought up from the bag at the stern only dried codfish and 
 crackers. Laughing heartily he said, "Well, I'm dependent on 
 Yankees, and shall have to be a Yankee myself after this, and I may 
 as well begin on codfish and crackers." 
 
 The chivalry crossed the river and demanded that Dr. Nelson 
 should be given up, but were told that he was under the laws of 
 Illinois, and slaveholders could not have him. 
 
 Dr. Nelson was commissioned by the Home Missionary Society 
 in Illinois, and, in addition to his regular work, made powerful and 
 touching anti-slavery addresses. He died in October, 1844. 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAL I<IFE. lOI 
 
 From 1853 to 1855 inclusive the Normal Musical Insti- 
 tute was held in New York city, but every year my conven- 
 tion work, and, consequently, my knowledge of what the 
 singers throughout the country needed, and could do, in- 
 creased, and every year it became more and more apparent 
 that the city was not a good place for Normals, not only on 
 account of the heat but the expense. So, in 1855, 1 decided 
 to give up my city work as soon as it could be brought 
 about, and devote myself wholly to conventions, Normal 
 and authorship. Meanwhile Mr. Mason had come to like 
 New York, and his sons, who had prospered greatly there, 
 induced him to leave his Boston home and settle in the 
 great city. They had some picturesque and valuable acres 
 on the mountain side, in Orange, New Jersey, and soon the 
 three families built and occupied fine residences there. 
 
 One day, soon after Mr. Mason came to New York to 
 live, I called on Dr. Ferris, with whom I had been con- 
 nected for some years at Rutgers Institute, and who was 
 now Chancellor of the New York University, and said to 
 him, "Could your institution confer the degree of Doctor of 
 Music?" "Certainly." "Well, I think that th^t title has 
 never been conferred upon an American by an American 
 institution. S. Parkman Tuckerman, of Boston, is the only 
 American Doctor of Music that I know of, and his degree 
 is from an English university." I then said, "you know 
 of Ivowell Mason, and what he has done for church music 
 and musical instruction in schools and among the people of 
 this country." " Yes." " Well, what would you think of 
 having your University the first in America to confer the 
 title of Doctor of Music, and that that distinction should 
 fall upon America's greatest musical educator?" He 
 thought so well of it that it was promptly done. 
 
 I said nothing to Mr. Mason about it until it was accom- 
 plished. When it was, and was announced in one of the 
 
I02 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL, LIFE. 
 
 morning papers, I took a copy and went to his house. He 
 was in his library, and as I entered I saluted him with 
 " Good morning, Doctor Mason," emphasizing the title. He 
 looked up, evidently wondering a little that I should be 
 making a cheap joke of that kind, but immediately resumed 
 his usual manner, and said, "I want to show you a tune 
 that I have just made for this hymn." He was very full 
 of that tune. I forget now what it was, but I remember 
 that I had considerable difSculty in getting the idea of the 
 title fully into his mind. I mention this as illustrating the 
 fact, well known to Dr. Mason's friends, that he never 
 sought honors or distinctions any more than he did wealth. 
 He gave himself wholly to his work, and if other things 
 came they must come without any effort on his part. 
 
 Among the early normals was Wm. C. Van Meter, then 
 a typical far-westerner, a preacher, exhorter, singing-master, 
 and I don't know what else. Eloquent and magnetic as a 
 speaker in his strange western way, he created a great inter- 
 est in the class. He stopped at the Astor House the night 
 he arrived, and said that when he got up in the morning 
 and saw such crowds going down toward a church that he 
 saw a little way off (Trinity) he thought there must be a 
 revival there, and he reported that he did not wait for his 
 breakfast, but hurried down to join in the exercises. It 
 took him some time to realize that that was the ordinary 
 flow of humanity at the "down town" hour. 
 
 Mr. Van Meter was great for engineering musical con- 
 ventions. He made up his mind that my talents were being 
 wasted in New York and the East, and that I must go to 
 the South and West to be properly appreciated. So he pre- 
 pared the way, to begin with, in Richmond, Va. Let Mr. 
 Van Meter get an audience together and there was no resist- 
 ing him. He could make people laugh or cry at will, and 
 paint in more glowing colors whatever he described than 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAI, I<IFE. I03 
 
 any man I ever knew. He always induced a large number 
 of people to attend conventions, but he made it particularly 
 hard for the conductor to meet the expectations that he 
 raised. 
 
 I went to Richmond first to conduct a convention of Mr. 
 Van Meter's getting up, and then some months after to con- 
 duct some performances of "The Flower Queen." On this 
 latter occasion my home was the hospitable mansion of the 
 father of "Marion Harland." She was then a young lady, 
 writing her second book, her first, "Alone," having been a 
 great success, making her famous at a bound. The Rev. 
 Dr. Terhune, whose wife she now is, then a young man, 
 was also a guest in that charming home. At the close of 
 " The Flower Queen " class I was presented with my first 
 gold-headed cane. In after years I had good reason to be- 
 lieve the donors would have been glad to break it over the 
 head of the man who wrote war songs for the northern 
 army. I hope and think that feeling has now entirely 
 passed away. On both sides we did what we thought was 
 right. 
 
 Speaking of Richmond reminds me that I conducted two 
 conventions in Washington, not far from that time, one 
 alone, and one assisted by Mr. Bradbury. I mention them 
 because the second one was in the Smithsonian Institute 
 when Prof. Henry was at its head. It was an efibrt to 
 secure a more general attendance than such gatherings 
 usually have, and was located at Washington to be near the 
 southern states. I remember well the hearty welcome that 
 Prof. Henry gave us, and the kind interest he took in the 
 exercises. Nothing in the nature of popular education ap- 
 pealed to him in vain. He was a man of whom the nation 
 is justly proud. 
 
 Under Mr. Van Meter's management I conducted two 
 conventions in Quincy, Ills., and held a sort of short Normal 
 
I04 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, I<IFS. 
 
 in Jacksonville. A part of the program of this manager 
 seemed always to be a present for the conductor at the close 
 of the session. A silver cup, or a cane, or something for 
 the table, always appeared at the closing concert, and I used 
 to get Mr. Van Meter to help me return thanks, which he 
 always did in the most eloquent manner. This remarkable 
 man worked afterward, for some years, in and for the Five 
 Points Mission in New York, and was for a still greater 
 number of years in evangelistic labors in Rome, Italy. 
 
 It was hard to leave the work and the friends in New 
 York. The work had been pleasant and the friends most 
 kind and generous. Not a year of the ten that I had been 
 there did the "commencements" fail to bring some token 
 of remembrance, often costly, always useful, from schools 
 or church. The last, and most valuable, was a solid silver 
 tea-service to my wife when we left Mercer Street Church. 
 We have all these gifts now, excepting some volumes of 
 rare old English music, one of the annual presents from 
 Rutgers. They were in my working room at the store at 
 the time of the great fire, and shared the fate of my diary. 
 Thinking of the presents, a beautiful silver cup reminds 
 me of a class I had in those days at the " Brick Church " in 
 Orange, New Jersey. I mention it because I think it will 
 interest some of the many hundreds who now go daily to 
 New York from there, to know that then three persons con- 
 stituted the daily quota from that station. 
 
 As soon as I decided to leave New York I said to my 
 old friends in North Reading, " If you will prepare a suitable 
 place for us, I will have the Normal Musical Institute here 
 next summer." They called a town meeting, at which was 
 explained that the school would probably bring a hundred 
 strangers there for three months, which would mean to the 
 town some money and a good deal of music. Both ideas 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAL LIFE. IO5 
 
 were well received and prompt action was taken. The 
 building that was prepared for us is worth telling about. 
 
 When I was a boy there stood in the center of the village 
 one of the old colonial "meeting houses." Its pews were 
 square, its pulpit twelve or more feet high, with a "sound- 
 ing board," Uke a huge bell, hanging above it, under which 
 the minister stood. When at last the old building became 
 too dilapidated for further use it was decided to tear it down 
 and replace it with a modern structure. In the olden times 
 all had worshiped there together with no dissensions, but, 
 gradually, differences of opinion had arisen, and had been 
 maintained as usual in such cases with a good deal of ran- 
 cor. The " orthodox," as they were called, although not the 
 most numerous, had the most money, and were the most 
 willing to spend it for church purposes, so they had minister 
 and service pretty much their own way. This did not tend 
 to conciliate the other side, among whom were quite a num- 
 ber of Universalists, and who, in consequence, did not go 
 much to " meeting." 
 
 Still they went on and put up the new building, nomi- 
 nally all together as a society, but it was really by the 
 energy, and mostly by the money, of the first named party 
 that it was accomplished. When the new edifice was com- 
 pleted, and a minister settled, the Universalists asked per- 
 mission to have service there occasionally on Sunday after- 
 noons. I don't think it was bigotry, so much as conscience, 
 that led the orthodox party to refuse this request, but it was 
 refused. Then the opposing elements got together and said, 
 "This building belongs to the society, and a majority of the 
 society can say what kind of preaching shall be in it." They 
 probably would not have ignored the fact that they did very 
 little toward building it if they had been kindly treated, but, 
 as it was, they called a meeting of the society and managed 
 
Io6 THE STORY OF A. MUSICAL I<IKB. 
 
 to have a majority there to vote that a Universalist minister 
 should occupy the new pulpit all the time. 
 
 I was but a boy then, but I remember how sad my old 
 grandfather, one of the deacons of the church, looked the 
 next day. However, he went immediately to work to get 
 the names of those who would form a new, society, specific- 
 ally " orthodox," and build a new church. This was speedily 
 done, but, as was foreseen, the Universalists, and those who 
 sympathized with them but did not care much about "going 
 to meeting," could not, or would not support a minister, and 
 carry on Sunday services. So, in a short time, all such 
 efforts were abandoned, and the building was useless for 
 years, excepting as it was wanted for an occasional public 
 gathering. 
 
 When, therefore, my proposition came, all differences 
 ceased. Music and some general advantage to the town 
 were grounds for a general amnesty, and it was voted unan- 
 imously to give up the building to the town, and then the 
 town voted to prepare it for our use. This they found would 
 make it just what was wanted for a convenient town hall. 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAL IvlFB. I07 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 1856-1859, NORTH READING, MASS. — A GREAT SCHOOI< IN A 
 SMALL TOWN — A VISIT FROM HENRY WARD BEECHER AND 
 MRS. STOWE — NATHAN RICHARDSON AND " ROSALIE, THE 
 PRAIRIE FLOWER"— WRITING AT WILLOW FARM — THE 
 "HAYMAKERS" — THE BEGINNING OF EAR TRAINING IN 
 CLASSES FOR HARMONY — " EXCEPT YE BECOME AS LITTLE 
 CHILDREN " — DISTINGUISHED VISITORS — RELATIVE PROFITS 
 OF CANTATA MAKER AND CANTATA GIVER — COMPOSITIONS 
 AS PROPERTY. 
 
 THK Normal Musical Institute commenced in North 
 Reading in 1856. The faculty then was Dr. Mason, 
 Mr. Webb, Mr. Bradbury and myself — August Kreissman, 
 of Boston, assisting in private lessons. The attendance was 
 large, and the difference between the city and this dear old 
 place delightful. As may readily be seen, so long as this 
 was the only institution of the kind in the country it not 
 only attracted people from afar, but it brought the promi- 
 nent ones — those who at home were the principal teachers 
 or singers of their sections. All liked North Reading — the 
 place, the people and the arrangements for work. It is a 
 picturesque old town. Few views are more beautiful than 
 that which is seen from a hill near the village, of the Ipswich 
 River, there a small stream, winding in and out among the 
 trees that fringe its sides, far away in the meadows below ; 
 and the walk over this hill and through the woods beyond 
 to Willow Farm was a great delight, especially to the west- 
 ern contingent, to whom the " rocks and riUs and wopded 
 hills " of New England were a novelty. 
 
Io8 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 The people of the town were always ready to do anything 
 in their power to further the interests of the school and to 
 make the stay of the strangers pleasant. The building, as it 
 had been prepared for us, was very comfortable and conven- 
 ient. Up one flight of stairs was the room where all as- 
 sembled for the opening exercises, and where Dr. Mason's 
 and other lessons to the whole Institute were given. On 
 the ground floor was a larger hall, and below that a light 
 basement. An additional room in a neighboring building 
 was also used for some of the smaller classes. We had one 
 evening rehearsal in the week in the hall, and one evening 
 when the friends and neighbors could come and hear us sing. 
 
 It was a strange thing to hear such a chorus under such 
 conductors as Dr. Mason and Mr. Webb in so small a place 
 as our little village, but we never lacked an audience. In- 
 deed, as the Normal did not then seek to derive any revenue 
 from public performances, it was not long before we were 
 troubled for room on our public evenings. We invited the 
 neighbors, but we did not limit the neighborhood, and that 
 gradually extended until it took in the neighboring towns, 
 which were Andover on the north, Middleton and I^ynnfield 
 on the east, the other two Readings on the south, and Wil- 
 mington on the west. Every pleasant Friday, at five or six 
 o'clock in the afternoon, vehicles of all sorts could be seen 
 coming from one or more of these places to be in time for 
 the evening sing. Those were happy times. How Dr. 
 Mason's grand chorus work and the exquisite glee singing 
 under Mr. Webb did ring and float out at the open windows 
 of our pleasant hall, and away upon the summer air ! Al- 
 most incredible stories were told of the distance at which our 
 music was heard when the evenings were still. 
 
 One of the most prominent members of the Institute at 
 North Reading was W. W. Killip, of Geneseo, N. Y. He 
 was a man of excellent abilities, musical and otherwise, and 
 
The story of a musical wfe. 109 
 
 he had a hearty, whole-souled way of meeting people that 
 was very attractive. Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe then lived 
 at Andover, near the Theological Seminary, seven miles 
 from our town. Henry Ward Beecher generally spent a 
 week or two with his sister there in the summer. The boys, 
 or, I should say, all the members of the Institute, wanted to 
 see Mr. Beecher, and Dr. Mason and I intended to ask him 
 to spend a day with us, but Mr. Killip wouldn't wait. He 
 said : " I'm not going to have any uncertainty about this ; 
 I'm going to see him and get him to set a day to come soon." 
 Ordinarily, such a messenger, going on his own account, 
 would not have fared so well as a simple bearer of an invita- 
 tion from Dr. Mason, whom Mr. Beecher highly esteemed ; 
 but I knew Mr. Beecher, and was sure Mr. Killip's bluff, 
 hearty way would interest him. He went, and came back 
 triumphant. " Yes, he's coming next Tuesday." "Did he 
 consent readily?" I asked. "He hesitated some," Mr. K. 
 replied, " but I told him I'd vote for his candidate for Gov- 
 ernor if he would come, and that settled it." 
 
 Not only Mr. Beecher, but Mrs. Stowe and the old father. 
 Dr. lyyman Beecher, and Mr. Charles Beecher came. After 
 the opening exercises and Dr. Mason's inimitable teaching 
 lesson, the great desire of the class to hear Mr. Beecher speak 
 was gratified. His beginning was most characteristic. He 
 said : " I like the way your seats are arranged to bring the 
 class near the platform and into close connection with the 
 teacher, and your platform is just the right height. The 
 devil always looks on when they are building a church to 
 see how far they get the pews from the minister." Then 
 Mr. Beecher, supposing a case, paced slowly the long way 
 of the platform, to represent the wide space that was being 
 left between minister and people, counting his steps in a 
 crescendo of satisfaction, and bringing his fist down into his 
 open palm at the close — ^all to represent what his Satanic 
 
no THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFE. 
 
 majesty would do and say under the circumstances : " One, 
 two, three, four, five, six, seven ; good ! he'll never hit 'em! " 
 Then he talked for half an hour on the relations of music to 
 the church and the home, as only Mr. Beecher could talk. 
 The whole party dined at Willow Farm and attended the 
 afternoon chorus and glee singing, which they greatly en- 
 joyed. 
 
 About the time that I began to be known as a successful 
 song-writer Nathan Richardson (afterward author of "The 
 Popular Piano Instructor") started a music publishing house 
 in Boston. He had lived some years in Germany, and had 
 come home filled with a strong desire to improve the music- 
 al tastes of the benighted people of his native land. This 
 sounds like laughing at my old friend. Well, it is so; but 
 not so much as I have done to his face many a time. The 
 saying of the boatswain in " Pinafore " of the Admiral would 
 have applied exactly here : " He means well, but he don't 
 know." As it was, he determined that he would publish 
 nothing but high-class music. I doubt if there was an 
 American then whose compositions he would have taken as 
 a gift. He had an elegant store on Washington street, fitted 
 and furnished in an expensive manner through the generos- 
 ity of an older brother, who had plenty of money, and who 
 seemed delighted to aid Nathan in his praiseworthy efforts 
 for the fatherland. 
 
 All went well for a few months. Musicians met there 
 and greatly enjoyed a chat amid the luxurious surroundings, 
 and they occasionally bought a piece of music when they 
 found what their pupils could use. Some of the compara- 
 tively few amateurs of the city, who were advanced, also 
 patronized the establishment, but it did not pay. At length 
 both Nathan and the rich brother became convinced that 
 they could not make people buy music, however fine, that 
 they could not understand nor perform, and they found that 
 
THB STORY OP A MUSICAI, WFE. Ill 
 
 calling the music that the common people liked, " trash," did 
 not help the matter at all. 
 
 So the question came up between them of getting some- 
 thing to publish that the people would buy. In this dilem- 
 ma my friend came to me and asked me if I would write him. 
 six songs. I laughed at him a little, but was very happy to 
 do it, my three-years' engagement with Wm. Hall & Son 
 being just out. The songs were finished during vacation, 
 and we tried them over at Willow Farm in manuscript. 
 There were six of us, and I said : "I^et us choose from these 
 six songs the one that we think will become most popular. 
 The oldest shall choose first, then the next shall choose from 
 the remainder, then the next, and so on down to the young- 
 est." The youngest was my sister Fanny, then a young 
 girl, and when the choice came to her the only song left un- 
 chosen was " Rosalie, the Prairie Flower." 
 
 When I took the songs to my friend he said he would 
 prefer to buy them outright. What would I take for the 
 "lot"? There was a bit of sarcasm in the last word. 
 "Well," I replied, " as you propose a wholesale instead of a 
 retail transaction, you shall have the "lot" at wholesale 
 prices, which will be one hundred dollars apiece — six hun- 
 dred dollars for all." He laughed at the idea. His splendid 
 foreign reprints had cost him nothing. The idea of paying 
 such a sum for these little things could not be thought of. 
 " Very well," I said, " Give me the usual royalty ; that will 
 suit me quite as well." This was agreed to, and when he had 
 paid me in royalties nearly three thousand dollars for " Rosa- 
 lie" alone, he concluded that six hundred for the "lot" 
 would not have been an unreasonable price, especially as all 
 the songs of the set had a fair sale, for which he had to pay 
 in addition. But he learned wisdom by experience as to 
 what people in elementary states must have, and he showed 
 himself an able man and a good musician in the great in- 
 struction book that bears his name. 
 
112 THE STORY OP A MUSICAL LIFB. 
 
 Willow Farm was now headquarters. From there I went 
 to musical conventions in all parts of the country, and there 
 I worked at books and songs. I have said that I never con- 
 sidered that I had a "call" to be a musical composer— that 
 my efforts in that way began by trying to supply my own 
 needs. I can say the same in a still more emphatic way in 
 regard to writing words for music. I presume I should never 
 have attempted to do that if I could always have found some 
 one to do what I wanted. But this I could not do. Some- 
 times the trouble was with the meter, sometimes with words 
 that followed each other roughly, jolting, like a wagon over 
 a rocky road ; sometimes a thin vowel for a high soprano 
 tone, and sometimes wrong emotional expression for the 
 music I had in mind. 
 
 My efiForts at writing words began in New York, and I 
 well remember how laborious the somewhat mechanical 
 matter of rhyming was at first, and how gradually it grew 
 easier with practice. At North Reading there was no one 
 near to go to for words, but that kind of work was not now 
 so formidable, thanks to the practice I had had, and I enjoyed 
 greatly turning into rhyme for lessons and songs the thoughts 
 that came amid the pleasant scenes that surrounded me there. 
 
 The beginning of this kind of work is seen in the " Sab- 
 bath Bell," which was the first book to grade carefully lessons 
 and part-songs for singing classes. This was my first vent- 
 ure alone for choirs, singing classes and conventions, and I 
 attribute its success largely to these words, which were writ- 
 ten as needed for the grade wanted. The same scenes and 
 surroundings contributed to the singing class department of 
 the " Diapason," which followed. My first sight of the West 
 impressed me strongly, and some songs about the prairies 
 naturally followed. Among the lessons and songs written 
 as above described, some have continued in use to the pres- 
 ent time. I mention a few of them here : " By the brooklet 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. II3 
 
 clear," "Music everywhere," "High in the summer sky," 
 "O'er prairie, green and fair," "Autumn winds," "O'er the 
 calm lake," " Don't you see me coming?" (song of the bobo- 
 link), " Up in the morning so early," " Have you seen my 
 I/illie?" "Ha! ha! ha! I^aughing is contagious," "Out on 
 the prairie," " Happy New Year," " Softly she faded," " To 
 the mountain," " On the heather," " Thoughts of childhood " 
 and " Merry May." 
 
 While North Reading was headquarters, I was often in 
 New York on my way to or from conventions, and of course 
 in constant communication with my publishers. On one 
 occasion, during the year 1856, Lowell Mason, Jr., the senior 
 partner of the house of Mason Brothers, suggested that I 
 should write a cantata for mixed voices, but on some secu- 
 lar subject. After some consideration haymaking, as it was 
 then carried on, was chosen, and "The Haymakers" decided 
 upon as the title. Mr. Mason (L,. M., Jr.) took a great inter- 
 est in this work, and to a great extent planned it, not only 
 as to characters and action, but as to what, in a general way, 
 each number should be about. 
 
 Taking his plan I wrote both words and music — some- 
 times the words first, sometimes the music first, and some- 
 times both together. I did most of the work in my new 
 library at Willow Farm, where, by stepping to the door, I 
 could see the very fields in which I had swung the scythe 
 and raked the hay, and in which I had many a time hurried 
 to get the last load into the bam before the thunder-storm 
 should burst upon us. In fact, nearly every scene described 
 in the cantata had its counterpart in my experience on the old 
 farm not many years before, always excepting " Snipkins," 
 the city man who found himself so much out of place in 
 the country and among the haymakers. That was a purely 
 imaginary character. This cantata was published in 1857, 
 and began to be sung immediately. During the following 
 
114 fHB STORY OF A MUSICAl, LIFE. 
 
 year I conducted it twenty times in Boston and the neigh- 
 boring cities. 
 
 The second year of the Normal at North Reading had a 
 still larger attendance. To find boarding-places within a 
 reasonable distance for all, and to get pianos enough up from 
 Boston to supply the increasing number who wished to take 
 private lessons, became a difficult matter, but it was managed, 
 and the work generally improved with experience. About 
 this time I tried teaching elementary harmony in classes, 
 requiring the pupils to know chords through the ear before 
 writing them. There had been, as I thought, too much eye 
 harmony — deciding that certain harmonies were wrong be- 
 cause they did not look right. Pupils had received the kind 
 of training that . leads to condemning the consecutive fifths 
 that a skillful composer might use, because, to the eye, they 
 violated a rule. I had also observed that many harmony 
 papers that had been given to pupils to fill out with proper 
 chords were so much Greek to them, so far as hearing in 
 their minds the chords they were writing ; not but that the 
 teacher might have played the lesson to them as it should 
 be, but there was no such ear training as made the harmony 
 a part of the musical life of the pupil. 
 
 I found that twenty or thirty could hear and answer as 
 well as one alone, so I played and they listened until they 
 could tell promptly and accurately what they heard, begin- 
 ning, of course, with the simplest combinations. In this train- 
 ing they had nothing to look at, and they wrote only what 
 had entered their musical minds by the proper avenue, viz., 
 the ear. I think the idea of working in this way came to 
 nie from teaching the blind. I found they knew and enjoyed 
 harmony far more thoroughly than seeing pupils did, and 
 the result of my experiment was very satisfactory. Instead 
 of getting tired of harmony and giving it up because they 
 could not understand it (really because they did not get it), 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 1 15 
 
 the class grew more and more interested in their harmony 
 lessons. I do not remember any approval of Dr. Mason and 
 Mr. Webb that gave me so much satisfaction and pleasure as 
 that which came to me on account of this work. Both were 
 pleased that harmony, which had been a dull and heavy study, 
 now promised to be a bright and cheery one. 
 
 It was interesting to observe the changes that came over 
 the new pupils during their first three or four weeks in the 
 Institute. Many of them were great men at home — had been 
 praised and looked up to until they hardly liked to appear as 
 if they came as learners. Not infrequently, on being intro- 
 duced, one would give me a friendly slap on the shoulder 
 and say : " Well, Root, I thought I would come and see how 
 you do things here," or, " I should like to show you my way 
 of teaching," etc. The old hands standing by would look 
 on mischievously or compassionately, as the case might be, 
 but generally said nothing to the new-comers about the trials 
 and tribulations and the " valley of humiliation " which they 
 would be pretty sure to find before them when they came to 
 Dr. Mason's searching examination and work, to say nothing 
 of what would happen to them if their voices or style of 
 singing were out of true. It was interesting to see how their 
 self-assertion began to fade out under the criticisms of the 
 teachers' class, or when they and all in the voice class could 
 see that the tone they had been producing was wrong. 
 
 It was very hard for some of them at first to refrain from 
 standing on their dignity and arguing the matter, but a few 
 words from Dr. Mason on the attitude that the true learner 
 assumes soon opened their eyes. He was very fond of say- 
 ing : " Except ye become as little children, ye can not enter 
 into the kingdom of heaven, nor the kingdom of sound, nor 
 any other kingdom." He used also to say: "Do not waste 
 time in argument. You are here to get what we have to 
 give you. Take what you think will be useful ; what you 
 
Il6 THB STORY OP A MUSICAI, WPB. 
 
 think -will not be, you can reject without saying anything 
 about it." It was very common to see the self-satisfied faces 
 of this kind of new-comers change, first to perplexity, then 
 to anxiety, and finally to discouragement. They were almost 
 certain then to say: " We thought we knew something about 
 music and teaching when we came, but now we see we did 
 not know anything worth Speaking of." Then they were 
 told that they had learned the hardest and most important 
 lesson of the session, and from the valley the way would 
 now be pleasant to the sunlight. Dr. Mason often said what 
 he continually exemplified : " Do not be afraid to say ' I do 
 not know.' The teacher who says that to his class will al- 
 ways be believed when he says he does know. Nothing is 
 so dangerous to a teacher's reputation as conceit, and nothing 
 so shuts him out from progress." 
 
 All sorts of people came to see us during those summer 
 sessions. Sometimes it was one of Dr. Mason's co-workers 
 in general education, and sometimes musical celebrities, na- 
 tive or foreign. Of the former. Governor Boutwell and Mr. 
 Wm. Russell, the foremost elocutionist of those days, were 
 prominent. These men gave the class many valuable ideas, 
 as well as much enjoyment. A very pleasant gentleman 
 was Mr. I/ittleton, one of the firm of Novello & Co., of Lon- 
 don, who had met Dr. Mason in Kngland, and, being in this 
 country, strayed up to our little town to give him a call. 
 
 I took a great deal of interest in those days in the success 
 of my cantatas, which had become so unexpectedly popular. 
 But I remember once thinking that Justice was not the even- 
 handed female she was represented to be, when a gentleman 
 came during one of our sessions to talk with me, as he said, 
 about " The Flower Queen." He was from New Kngland 
 somewhere, but had been teaching in St. I^ouis, and woimd 
 up his year's work by giving that little work. He said : " I 
 have come some miles out of my way to tell you that I have 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAL LIFE. I17 
 
 just cleared a thousand dollars by two performances of your 
 ' Flower Queen ' in St. I^ouis, and the money is here in my 
 pocket." Then he went on to describe the decorations of 
 the hall, the enthusiasm of the audience, etc. " How many 
 singers did you have ? " I asked. " Nearly two hundred." 
 " How many books did you use?" " Oh, they had to com- 
 mit everything to memory, so I taught the choruses by rote. 
 I did not need many books — perhaps nine or ten." He 
 spoke of that as also a matter of credit to himself and of 
 pleasant interest to me. It evidently did not occur to him 
 that, while he had made a thousand dollars, the author of 
 the work had realized the munificent sum of sixty cents, or 
 thereabout, as his share of the profits. I became used to 
 that after a while, but this first experience made a strong 
 impression upon my mind. A law was passed a year or 
 two later which enabled an author to control the perform- 
 ance of such works, if he chose to take advantage of it. I 
 tried it awhile with " The Haymakers," but it was more 
 trouble than it was worth to enforce it, and I soon gave up 
 the effort. 
 
 How true it is that it is only those laws which are upheld 
 by public opinion that are of real use to us; or, in other 
 words, it is only those rights that our neighbors say are ours 
 that we can make available. 
 
 The New England boy of fifty years ago remembers that 
 many of the natural products of the old farm — berries, nuts, 
 wild fruits, etc. — were practically common property. The 
 neighbors helped themselves to them as freely as they drank 
 the water of the springs or breathed the air of the pastures. 
 Their owners had as undoubted rights to their berries as to 
 their corn, potatoes or bank notes, and often wished to ex- 
 ercise those rights, but custom and public opinion did not 
 admit them, and they were helpless — unless, indeed, they 
 went to law, which the average citizen would rather suffer 
 
Il8 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, I,IFB. 
 
 than do. After a while the cranberry began to have a mer- 
 chantable value, and slowly public opinion changed, until at 
 last it accorded to owners the same rights to their cranberry 
 meadows that they had to their corn-fields ; but to this day 
 it is not considered half so bad to gather nuts and huckle- 
 berries without the owner's knowledge and consent as it is 
 to take his corn or money. 
 
 So it was in early days in regard to music. We had 
 each other's compositions for the asking, rather considering 
 that we were complimenting the author by using them. We 
 did not consider that we might be placing an author's works 
 in injurious competition with himself, and that by advertising 
 his music in our books we were seizing upon his " good- 
 will " for our advantage. It is better now, though the rights 
 to musical property are not yet as clearly defined as to more 
 tangible things. 
 
 The prominent singers of Boston visited the Normal at 
 North Reading occasionally, but I do not recall any name 
 that would be of special interest, unless it would be that of 
 a large, quiet young man, who was then just beginning his 
 musical studies, and who, with his teacher, a prominent 
 choir leader in Boston, passed part of a day with us. No- 
 body dreamed that that modest and farmer-like person 
 would become America's greatest basso, but so it was to be. 
 I presume I hardly need mention the name of Myron W. 
 Whitney. 
 
 We had many invitations, on one pretext or another, to 
 go to neighboring towns and sing. Carriages would be sent 
 for us, and we should be treated like princes, if we would 
 consent. It was pretty hard to resist the pressure from the 
 inviters on the one side and the invited on the other, for a 
 majority of the class were always ready for an outing of 
 that sort. But we feared the breaking in upon our work 
 and the distraction that such excursions would cause, and 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAI, LIFE. II9 
 
 consented but once. That was at a " commencement " of 
 the Andover Theological Seminary. The professors were 
 great friends of Dr. Mason, and when they urged us to do 
 them this favor we yielded. The procession of all sorts of 
 conveyances that took us the seven miles, up and down 
 half a dozen hUls to the mile, our prairie friends will never 
 forget. It is said that the name Andover came from the 
 description people gave of the way there from every point — 
 " over andover andover the hUls." 
 
 I doubt if such a chorus as we then had is ever heard 
 where people only meet for practice once or twice a week. 
 In the first place, they were practically picked voices. The 
 people who came to us had generally taken to music as a 
 business because they were especially gifted by nature in 
 that way. Then the daily practice of the chorus for so 
 many weeks produced a blending and unanimity that can 
 not be reached in any other way. 
 
 The commencement exercises were in the largest church 
 there, and Mr. Webb played the organ. We sang mostly 
 " Messiah " choruses, but a number from the cantata of 
 " Daniel." . " How lovely is Zion " came in for a large share 
 of admiration, chiefly, as it seemed to me, because the solo 
 was sung by the best woman that I have ever had the pleas- 
 ure of being acquainted with. This was the first time that 
 the Normal ever sang away from home, unless upon some 
 of our Saturday excursions to Swan Pond, or some other 
 picnic ground. 
 
TH]^ STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 [859-1861, NORTH READING AND CHICAGO — PROMINENT MEM- 
 BERS OF THE NORMAL INSTITUTE — WRITING AT WILLOW 
 FARM — OUR SIMPLE MUSIC IN ENGLAND — ROOT AND CADY — 
 THE CURRENCY — THE GREATER THE REFINEMENT, THE 
 SMALLER THE COIN— CHICAGO IN 1858 — THE "CAMERADE- 
 RIE " IN A NEW COUNTRY — CONVENTIONS ON THE PRAIRIE — 
 LAND SHARKS — FIRST ORGAN BOOK — THE FIRST GUN OF THE 
 WAR. 
 
 THK Normal continued its sessions in North Reading 
 until 1859, and among its members up to this time 
 were Geo. B. Loomis, for some years superintendent of mu- 
 sic in the public schools of Indianapolis, Theodore E. Per- 
 kins, T. M. Towne, Chester G. Allen, J. M. North, authors 
 and convention conductors, and Luther W. Mason, for a 
 long time prominent m the primary department of the 
 public schools of Boston as musical superintendent and 
 principal teacher. A few years ago this Mr. Mason went 
 to Japan, by the invitation of the Japanese government, to 
 inaugurate there the system of teaching music to children 
 that had been in use in the Boston schools. He remained 
 in Tokio about two years, if I remember rightly. 
 
 Another member of the North Reading Normal was 
 Theo. P. Seward, the present energetic leader of the tonic- 
 sol-fa movement in America. Have you ever received a 
 letter from Mr. Seward, or read one of his editorials, when 
 he had his war-paint on for tonic-sol-fa ? If so, did not the 
 handwriting of the one, or the sledge-hammer blows of the 
 other, give you the idea that he was a giant in size, with the 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAI, UFB. 12 [ 
 
 voice of a stentor ? Then have you met him afterward ? If 
 so, you found a rather small, delicate-looking man, with a 
 soft voice and a sweet smile, with gentle and refined man- 
 ners, and one of the kindest hearts in the world — in most 
 respects probably entirely different from your idea. I ad- 
 mire Mr. Seward gfeatly, but this contrast between his 
 strong, aggressive work and his gentle ways has always to 
 me a humorous side. 
 
 Two other members of the Normal Institute in those 
 days, of whom I shall have occasion to speak more at 
 length later, were James R. Murray, the present editor of 
 The Musical Visitor, and Chauncey M. Wyman, from Keene, 
 N. H., then just beginning his musical career. 
 
 I can not name all the Normals who were successful 
 in their work, for that would include nearly every member 
 from the first session up to the time of which I am writ- 
 ing. They were invariably the strong men and women of 
 their widely varied localities, and their new equipments of 
 methods of teaching and singing gave them great popular- 
 ity and success. 
 
 My time now, from Normal to Normal, was passed in 
 writing at Willow Farm or in conducting musical conven- 
 tions in various parts of the country. I could easily have 
 occupied every week of the year in the latter work, Mr. 
 Bradbury and I being almost the only prominent people in 
 it for a while. Dr. Mason was occasionally tempted to con- 
 duct some of the larger gatherings in New England, but 
 he confined his outside work in those days mostly to the 
 Normal. Mr. Webb was also fully occupied with work in 
 Boston, which he rarely left, but there was now a constant 
 pressure for a book, or a cantata, or songs, so I spent about 
 half the time at my desk. I now began to hear from Mr. 
 Curwen, the elder. He had found my little lessons and 
 part-songs for singing classes helpful in his tonic-sol-fa 
 
122 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFB. 
 
 enterprise in England, and wrote very kind and appreciative 
 letters of acknowledgment for the same. He was accus- 
 tomed to say, " We have in Kngland plenty of high-class 
 music, and more than enough of the Captain Jinks kind of 
 songs, but there is a wholesome middle-ground in regard to 
 both words and music in which you in America greatly ex- 
 cel," and soon my cantatas and songs were issued there to 
 an extent that I was not fully aware of until a recent visit, 
 when I saw the list of them in the catalogue of the British 
 Museum; but I will speak more fully of that further on. 
 My acquaintance with Mr. Curwen, thus commenced, was 
 kept up by correspondence until his death, and every year 
 revealed to me more and more of his noble and beautiful 
 character. 
 
 These were ideal days — writing until noon, and then 
 driving to a neighboring town, or fishing in some of the 
 pretty 'ponds that were all about us. The favorite fishing 
 ground was a little lake in I^orth Andover, about eight 
 miles away, and many a time have we spent until dark, 
 after our return, distributing to the neighbors the surplus 
 fish of our afternoon's catch. 
 
 In 1858 liiy brother, E. T. Root, and Mr. C. M. Cady 
 started a music business in Chicago — nearly the "far west" 
 in those days — under the firm name of Root & Cady. My 
 convention work brought me occasionally to their neighbor- 
 hood, and it was an odd and very pleasant sensation to find 
 in this new section a kind of business home. This was not 
 so much on account of the small pecuniary interest I had in 
 the enterprise as the great interest I took in everything my 
 brother did. This brother and myself were nearly of the 
 same age. We had been much together all our lives. He had 
 married the lovely " I<ily " of the Rutgers Institute " Flower 
 Oueen," and was now preparing for himself a home in the 
 comparatively new city of Chicago. So, whatever applica- 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< LIFE. 1 23 
 
 tions for conventions I declined, none from the West were 
 refused, and I appeared more and more frequently at the 
 little store. 
 
 It was very pleasant to see the new business grow, and 
 it was not long before the partners said : " Come, put in 
 some more capital, and join us; we need the capital, and 
 your name will help us." I was delighted with the idea, 
 not that I thought of giving up my professional work — 
 I did not dream of that, nor of living in Chicago ; but to 
 have this connection with my brother, and this business for 
 a' kind of recreation, was extremely attractive. So it was 
 soon brought about, and I became a partner in the house 
 of Root & Cady. 
 
 Some things that I came in contact with in those days 
 are worth speaking of. One is the currency. Not only you 
 could not use an Illinois bank note in New England, but in 
 going from Boston to New York, or vice versa, you had to 
 change your money into that of the state to which you were 
 going. A bank note of either city would be closely scrutin- 
 ized in the other, and only taken at a discount. As for a 
 western bank note I might almost say it would not be taken 
 in the East at any price. So the returns of my western con- 
 ventions were always carried home in gold, which it was 
 sometimes hard to get. 
 
 To those to whom this seems strange, in the presence of 
 our present national currency, it may be of interest to say 
 that I remember well when there were no such things as 
 dimes and half-dimes, but, instead, the smallest silver coins 
 were in New England "nine-pence" (12)^ cents), and "four- 
 pence-half-penny " (6^ cents). In New York the same coins 
 were called " shilling " and "six-pence." That came from 
 the plan of having a succession of half values from the dol- 
 lar— 50 cts., 25, 12^, and 6^. Then there were cents and 
 half cents, which were large copper coins. 
 
124 ''^HB STORY OF A MUSICAI, I<IFE. 
 
 It is not wonderful that the trouble the fractions caused 
 compelled the present excellent decimal plan. For a year or 
 two perhaps after dimes came in, a difference in value was 
 made between the lo-cent piece and the 12^-cent piece, 
 (and the 5 and 6^,) but that difference was so troublesome 
 that either by a law or by common consent it was ultimately 
 given up and both were put on a level. Then the old coins, 
 as if mortified and disgusted at being undervalued, retired 
 from public life. For a few years a stray one, looking lonely 
 and antiquated by the side of the bright, new usurper, would 
 occasionally be seen, but they are all gone now, excepting 
 the few, perhaps, that are in the hands of the old coin col- 
 lectors. 
 
 The eagerness with which gold and silver were sought in 
 those times of trouble with bank notes made people anxious 
 and interested in a high degree in regard to the resumption 
 of specie payment, which was suspended during the war 
 and for a time afterward. How good the gold and silver 
 looked in prospect! But when the time for resumption 
 came, everybody waked to the fact that one need of the old 
 times was entirely gone. The new national banking system 
 was in successful operation, and the national bank note of 
 one state was just as good in other states as at home, and at 
 the resumption those who at first loaded themselves with 
 coin soon found that bank notes were far more convenient 
 to carry, and now that they were just as "good as gold," 
 were much to be preferred for the ordinary uses of business. 
 So the millions in coin that were made ready to redeem the 
 national bank notes were practically untouched, and re- 
 sumption, excepting as it established the value of bank 
 notes, was something of a farce. It was a pretty clear case 
 of the old story of the foreigner and the shaky bank : " If you 
 can pay me, I don't want it ; but if you can't pay, I must 
 have it." 
 
THB STORY OF A MUSICAL, I,IFB. 1 25 
 
 It was curious to observe, when specie payment was 
 suspended, how soon all the little coins, as well as the large 
 ones, fled to hiding places. Then what trouble for change ! 
 But that seemed the beginning of success for the horse-car 
 lines, then recently established in Chicago. People had not 
 become used to them ; they had not been well patronized, 
 and were looking rather discouraged — horses, cars and rails. 
 Then the company issued five-cent tickets, which were used 
 for change, not only on the cars but in the stores, and 
 people having a good many of these tickets in their pockets 
 doubled or trebled their car-riding and set the enterprise on 
 its feet. ' 
 
 Then came that most excellent scheme — the government 
 fractional currency — so neat to carry, so very convenient to 
 send by mail ; in fact, as much better in every way for ordi- 
 nary business than the small coin, as bank notes are better 
 than silver dollars. They would have all the advantage now 
 that they had then, and their wearing out and loss by fire, 
 and in other ways, would be a large revenue to the govern- 
 ment ; but the comparatively few men who sell silver for 
 coinage are powerful enough to deprive us of these advan- 
 tages, even in the face of the hoarded millions of silver dol- 
 lars that can not be forced out among the people. 
 
 An amusing little incident comes to my mind in connec- 
 tion with this fractional currency. It was several years that 
 there were practically no coins in Chicago — time enough for 
 a small merchant in newspapers to establish a flourishing 
 business without ever having seen one. He came into the 
 car to sell his evening papers, and a Californian, sitting next 
 to me, took one and gave him a silver half dime. The little 
 fellow looked at it, and at the man, and supposing that it 
 was a joke that was being played upon him, thrust the coin 
 back, seized his paper and ran out of the car. He did not 
 know that the little silver disk was money. All the five-cent 
 
126 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< I<IFE. 
 
 piece he knew was the little paper note for that amount, 
 bearing the government stamp. 
 
 Speaking of the five-cent newspaper brings to my mind 
 the fact that for years after I came to Chicago there were 
 no copper coins here. The smallest sum that you could 
 use in paying was five cents. Several efforts to start penny 
 or two-cent papers failed because there were no pennies to 
 pay with, and, of course, no change for a five-cent piece. 
 This fact with regard to new sections of our country is 
 well known, but the deduction from that fact may not be 
 so readily thought of, namely, that where such business 
 conditions exist, society is in a crude and not in a refined 
 state. It is an axiom that the higher the refinement in 
 business transactions the smaller the coin. While in Chi- 
 cago a half dime was the smallest, in Boston and New York 
 the cent was in common use, in I^ondon the half penny, 
 and in Paris the sou, and even the centime. But Chicago 
 has greatly improved. At the .present time we are refined 
 enough to have excellent penny and two-cent papers, and 
 no reputable citizen now goes about without copper coins 
 in his pocket. 
 
 l/ooking upon the solid and magnificent streets and drives 
 of Chicago to-day, it is hard to realize their condition in 1858. 
 The first level of the city was but little above the lake, and 
 it was not until some large buildings and blocks of brick and 
 stone had been erected that it was seen that at that level there 
 could be no proper drainage, and that the city — buildings 
 and streets — must be raised several feet. This process was 
 going on when we came. In all the principal thoroughfares 
 some of the buildings were at the new level and some at the 
 old, and progress through them on the side-walk was a con- 
 stant succession of up and down stairs. Many of the streets 
 were yet unpaved, and although not so bad as a few years 
 before, when in muddy weather the ladies had to be backed 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, I<IFB. 127 
 
 up to the Stores on carts, the horses or oxen wading knee- 
 deep in mud, still they were sometimes almost impassable. 
 Wood, gravel, stone, and brick all being so far away it was 
 slow and costly work to make the improvements required 
 by the peculiar location of this extraordinary city. After 
 the fire, the opportunity was taken to raise the grade still 
 higher in rebuilding, so that now it is entirely satisfactory in 
 that respect. 
 
 The camaraderie, or "hail fellow well met" feeling in a 
 new country is one of its most striking features. People 
 from different social grades in the older settled places of the 
 East meet here on a level. Social distinctions are in no- 
 body's way, for there are none, and the best man wins. One 
 of my early conventions in the West was in such a commu- 
 nity. On one of Illinois' great prairies, where eighteen 
 months before there was but a railroad shanty, there were 
 now fifteen hundred people. 
 
 They were all young and energetic — just the kind to leave 
 the quieter East and enjoy the excitement of starting a new 
 town. An unusual proportion were from cities where they 
 had been members of choirs and musical societies, and they 
 thought a musical convention in the midst of their bustle 
 and building would be a pleasant novelty. We held our 
 sessions in a hall over a large store, and our final concert in 
 an unfinished church edifice, seats being improvised of the 
 building material for the occasion. A few "prairie schoon- 
 ers" (as certain long wagons were called) brought singers 
 from distant prairie homes, and a few came on the railroad 
 from places still farther away, but from the town itself was 
 a larger proportion of cultivated and refined singers than 
 I ever found in a country convention at the East. L.W. 
 Wheeler, who has been for some years one of Boston's most 
 popular voice teachers, was one of the tenors of that conven- 
 tion, and, although just beginning then, gave unmistakable 
 
128 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 signs of the voice and talent which have since made him so 
 successful. 
 
 This town was Kewanee, now one of our finest inland 
 places. I was laughing at one of the men of that convention 
 about the way they were hurrying up their houses, when 
 he said: "Oh, that's nothing to the way they did at first in 
 Chicago. There a man would say to the only carpenter they 
 had, ' I believe I'll settle here ; when can you build me a 
 house?' and the answer would be, 'Well, there's Smith, 
 Monday; Jones, Tuesday; Brown, Wednesday; Johnson, 
 Thursday ; I'll put yours up Friday.' " Of course this was 
 all burlesque, but it does not give a bad idea of the way 
 things are done while people are roughing it in a new 
 country. 
 
 I have often thought that a romance might be written, 
 embodying some of the early real estate transactions of Chi- 
 cago that would be of intense interest. The only trouble 
 would be that some of the events would be considered too 
 extravagant even for fiction. One storji^ is told of an emi- 
 grant — a Hollander, who, with his family, landed in Chicago 
 from a sailing craft before the first railroad had reached so 
 far, and was immediately set upon by " land sharks," as some 
 of the early real estate dealers were called, and finally per- 
 suaded to give six hundred dollars for some low land by the 
 river that would then have been considered dear at one-fifth 
 the price. Some of the less hardened of the real estate 
 brotherhood were disposed to protest against the outrageous 
 swindle, but the old fellow seemed satisfied. He took some 
 gold and silver from his pouch and leather belt, and his wife 
 and children cut out coins that had been sewed up in their 
 clothing, and he paid the money. He put up a shanty at 
 once, and then commenced preparing his land for vegetables 
 by processes that he had been familiar with at home. His 
 wife and children helped. He sold his produce readily, and 
 
THB STORY OP A MUSICAI< LIFE. 1 29 
 
 had no difficulty in getting a living after his fashion. Pretty 
 soon people began to build around him, and he was occasion- 
 ally asked if he did not want to sell his place. No ; what 
 should he want to sell for ? — he would only have to go and 
 get another place for a vegetable garden, and that was too 
 much trouble. By and by the pressure grew stronger, and 
 the offers got up into the thousands. No ; he had built a 
 frame house now, and wasn't going to move. Then the 
 increased taxes, and some assessments for town improve- 
 ments were too much for his Uttle savings, and he sold a 
 small end of his domain. But this brought him so much 
 money that the surplus made him feel that he should never 
 need any more, so he resisted all offers and importunities, 
 and kept on with his vegetable garden as long as he lived. 
 Then his heirs sold the place for nearly a million dollars. 
 
 This playing at business (for I did nothing of the buying 
 or selling), and the new and adventurous life of Chicago were 
 so attractive to me that early in 1859 I took a room in the 
 building in which the store was, and occupied it as a library 
 and working-room between convention engagements. Not 
 long before, Mr. Henry Mason, the youngest brother of my 
 publishers, had formed a copartnership with Mr. Hamlin, 
 under the firm name of Mason & Hamlin, for the manufact- 
 ure of melodeons. They prospered, and soon called their 
 larger instruments harmoniums, and not long after, cabinet 
 organs. Some time in 1 862 the Masons asked me if I thought 
 I could make an instruction book for these instruments. I 
 said I would try, and the result was " The School for the 
 Harmonium and Cabinet Organ." This was my first work 
 of importance in my new quarters. It was published by 
 Mason Brothers, and had a large sale. It inaugurated a 
 much better graded method than any previous book had 
 contained, and I have sometimes thought that the copyright 
 laws would be more just if they included the plan as well as 
 
130 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 the contents of a book of that kind. But there being no 
 such protection, my plan has been generally adopted by 
 reed organ instructors ever since. 
 
 In i860 the Normal was held in Chicago, Dr. Mason, Mr. 
 Bradbury, and myself principal teachers. By this time other 
 Normals were started by those who had been with us, and 
 we no longer occupied the entire field. Still, the interest in 
 that kind of school having increased, our attendance con- 
 tinued to be large. I have no list of that class, but I recall 
 that among its successful members was N. Coe Stewart, the 
 present superintendent of music in the public schools of 
 Cleveland, Ohio. 
 
 My family was still at Willow Farm, excepting F. W., 
 who was now old enough to be away at boarding school, and 
 I had no thought, yet, of another home. However, the little 
 business was improving and I enjoyed more and more being 
 in the neighborhood of its small whirl. I might, perhaps, 
 have foreseen that if it continued to increase, the whirl might 
 eventually grow large enough to include me in its round of 
 hard and confining work, but I did not. I went and came 
 — was free to work in my pleasant room or to be off at con- 
 ventions, now in New England, now in New York or Penn- 
 sylvania, or the West — not a moment hung heavily on my 
 hands. Then we began to publish a little. First a song or 
 two, and some instrumental pieces in sheet form. After a 
 while we decided to venture on a book, and put in hand one 
 that I was then working on for day-schools ; but now the 
 War burst upon us ! 
 
 What a change came over the whole country when that 
 momentous event was announced ! How the bustling, cheery 
 life of Chicago became suddenly grave and serious. With 
 what different eyes we saw everything about us. It was not 
 the same sunshine that made the city so bright yesterday, 
 and these were not the same faces of neighbors that then 
 
THB STORY OP A MUSICAI, LIFE. I3I 
 
 nodded so light-heartedly as they passed. The old flag had 
 been fired upon, and that act had waked into stern deter- 
 mination the patriotism of every loyal heart. 
 
132 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 1861-1870, CHICAGO — WRITING THE WAR SONGS — SOME INCI- 
 DENTS CONCERNING THEM — HENRY C. WORK — P. P. BLISS — 
 "THE SONG MESSENGER OF THE NORTH-WEST" — THE ORI- 
 GIN OF " TRAMP " — GROWTH OF BUSINESS — ^JAMES R. MUR- 
 RAY AND " DAISY DEANE " — B. R. HANBY — CARYL FLORIO — 
 DR. mason's last NORMAL — ^THE NORMAL AT SOUTH BEND, 
 IND. — THE ORIGIN OP "NATIONAL NORMAL "•^— CARLO BAS- 
 SINI. 
 
 IN common with my neighbors I felt strongly the gravity 
 of the situation, and while waiting to see what would be 
 done, wrote the first song of the war. It was entitled " The 
 first gun is fired, may God protect the right." Then at every 
 event, and in all the circumststnces that followed, where I 
 thought a song would be welcome, I wrote one. And here 
 I found my fourteen years of extemporizing melodies on the 
 blackboard, before classes that could be kept in order only by 
 prompt and rapid movements, a great advantage. Such work 
 as I could do at all I could do quickly. There was no wait- 
 ing for a melody. Such as it was it came at once, as when 
 I stood before the blackboard in the old school days. 
 
 I heard of President Lincoln's second call for troops one 
 afternoon while reclining on a lounge in my brother's house. 
 Immediately a song started in my mind, words and music 
 together : 
 
 " Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys, we'll rally once again. 
 Shouting the battle-cry of freedom ! " 
 
 I thought it out that afternoon, and wrote it the next morn- 
 ing at the store. The ink was hardly dry when the Lum- 
 
THB STORY Olf A MUSICAI< LIFE. 1 33 
 
 bard brothers — the great singers of the war — came in for 
 something to sing at a war meeting that was to be holden 
 immediately in the court-house square just opposite. They 
 went through the new song once, and then hastened to the 
 steps of the court-house, followed by a crowd that had gath- 
 ered while the practice was going on. Then Jule's magnif- 
 icent voice gave out the song, and Frank's trumpet tones 
 led the refrain — 
 
 " The Union forever, hnrrali, boys, hurrah ! " 
 
 and at the fourth verse a thousand voices were joining in the 
 chorus. From there the song went into the army, and the 
 testimony in regard to its use in the camp and on the march, 
 and even on the field of battle, from soldiers and officers, up 
 to generals, and even to the good President himself, made 
 me thankful that if I could not shoulder a musket in defense 
 of my country I could serve her in this way. 
 
 Many interesting war incidents were connected with 
 these songs. The one that moved me most was told by an 
 officer who was in one of the battles during the siege of 
 Vicksburg. He said an Iowa regiment went into the fight 
 eight hundred strong, and came out with a terrible loss of 
 more than half their number ; but the brave fellows who re- 
 mained were waving their torn and powder-stained banner, 
 and singing 
 
 " Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys." 
 
 Some years after, at the closing concert of a musical conven- 
 tion in Anamosa, Iowa, I received a note, saying, " If the 
 author of ' The Battle-cry of Freedom ' would sing that song 
 it would gratify several soldiers in the audience who used to 
 sing it in the army." I read the request to the audience, 
 and said I would willingly comply with it, but first would 
 like to relate an incident concerning one of their Iowa regi- 
 ments. Then I told the above about the battle near Vicks- 
 
134 THE STORY OP A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 burg. When I finished I noticed a movement at the end of 
 the hall, and an excited voice cried out, " Here is a soldier 
 who lost his arm in that battle." I said, " "Will he come for- 
 ward-and stand by me while I sing the song? " A tall, fine^ 
 looking man, with one empty sleeve, came immediately to 
 my side, and I went through it, he joining in the chorus. 
 But it was hard work. I had to choke a good deal, and 
 there was hardly a dry eye in the house. He was teaching 
 school a few miles from there, and was quite musical. I 
 sent him some music after I returned to Chicago, and kept 
 up the acquaintance by correspondence for some time. 
 
 The following from The Century, published a year or two 
 ago, will be of interest in this connection : 
 
 UNION WAR SONGS AND CONFEDERATE OFFICERS. 
 
 The reading of Mr. Brander Matthews' " Songs of the War," in 
 the August number of The Century, vividly recalls to mind an inci- 
 dent of my own experience, which seems to me so apt an illustration 
 of the effect of army songs upon men that I venture to send it to you, 
 as I remember it, after twenty-five years. 
 
 A day or two after Lee's surrender in April, 1865, I left our ship 
 at Dutch Gap, in the James river, for a run up to Richmond, where I 
 was joined by the ship's surgeon, the paymaster and one of the junior 
 officers. After " doing " Richmond pretty thoroughly we went in the 
 evening to my rooms for dinner. Dinner being over, and the events 
 of the day recounted, the doctor, who was a fine player, opened the 
 piano, saying: "Boys, we've got our old quartet here; let's have a 
 sing." As the house opposite was occupied by paroled Confederate 
 oflScers no patriotic songs were sung. Soon the lady of the house 
 handed me this note : 
 
 " Compliments of General and staff. Will the gentlemen 
 
 kindly allow us to come over and hear them sing? " 
 
 Of course we consented, and they came. As the General entered 
 the room, I recognized instantly the face and figure of one who stood 
 second only to Lee or Jackson in the whole Confederacy. After in- 
 troductions and the usual interchange of civilities we sang for them 
 glee and college songs, until at last the General said : 
 
 "Excuse me, gentlemen; you sing delightfully; but what we 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 135 
 
 want to hear is your army songs." Then we gave them the army 
 songs with unction — the "Battle Hymn of the Republic," "John 
 Brown's Body," " We're Coming, Father Abraham," " Tramp, Tramp, 
 Tramp, the Boys are Marching," through the whole catalogue to the 
 " Star-Spangled Banner " — to which many a foot beat time as if it 
 had never stepped to any but the " music of the Union " — and closed 
 our concert with " Rally Round the Flag, Boys.'' 
 
 When the applause had subsided, a tall, fine-looking fellow, in a 
 major's uniform, exclaimed : " Gentlemen, if we'd had your songs 
 we'd have whipped you out of your boots ! Who couldn't have 
 marched or fought with such songs? We had nothing, absolutely 
 nothing, except a bastard ' Marseillaise,' the ' Bonny Blue Flag ' and 
 'Dixie,' which were nothing but jigs. 'Maryland, My Maryland' 
 was a splendid song, but the old ' Lauriger Horatius ' was about as 
 inspiring as the ' Dead March in Saul,' while every one'of the Yankee 
 songs is full of marching and fighting spirit." Then turning to the 
 General, he said: " I shall never forget the first time I heard ' Rally 
 Round the Flag.' 'Twas a nasty night during the 'Seven Days' 
 Fight,' and if I remember rightly it was raining. I was on picket, 
 when, just before ' taps,' some fellow on the other side struck up that 
 song and others joined in the chorus until it seemed to me the whole 
 
 Yankee army was singing. Tom B , who was with me, sung out, 
 
 ' Good heavens. Cap, what are those fellows made of, anyway ? Here 
 we've licked 'em six days running, and now on the eve of the seventh 
 they're singing, ' Rally Round the Flag.' 1 am not naturally super- 
 stitious, but I tell you that song sounded to me like the ' knetl of 
 doom,' and my heart went down into my boots ; and though I've tried 
 to do my duty, it has been an uphill fight with me ever since that 
 night." 
 
 The little company of Union singers and Confederate auditors, 
 after a pleasant and interesting interchange of stories of army experi- 
 ences, then separated, and as the General shook hands at parting, he 
 said to me : " Well, the time may come when we can all sing the 
 ' Star-Spangled Banner ' again." I have not seen him since. 
 
 The following extract from a letter recently received also 
 belongs here : 
 
 I was lately much interested in an incident, as given in " Bright 
 Skies and Dark Shadows," Dr. Henry M. Field's last book, just 
 published. This incident took place on the day of the great battle 
 
136 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFB. 
 
 of Franklin, near Nashville, Tenn., and was told Mr. Field on the 
 battle-field by a Mr. McEwen, an old resident of Nashville, at whose 
 house General Kimball made his headquarters, and from whose front 
 door Mr. McEwen witnessed the whole battle, which was fought 
 during the latter part of the day. 
 
 "About four o'clock, after the General had left for the field, there 
 lingered a Colonel, from Indianapolis, in my parlor, who asked my 
 daughters to sing and play a piece of music. My daughters asked 
 what they should play. He replied that he did not know one piece 
 of music from another, except field music. I spoke and asked the 
 young ladies to sing and play a piece which had recently come out, 
 'Just before the battle, mother.' At my request they sat down and 
 sang, and when about half through, as I stepped to the door, a shell 
 exploded within fifty yards. I immediately returned and said, ' Col- 
 onel, if I am any judge, it is just about that time now ! ' He imme- 
 diately sprang to his feet and ran in the direction of his regiment, 
 but before he reached it, or about that time, he was shot, the bullet 
 passing quite through him. He was taken to Nashville, and eighteen 
 days after, I received a message from him through an officer, stating 
 the fact of his being shot, and that the piece of music the young 
 ladies were executing was still ringing in his ears, and had been ever 
 since he left my parlor the evening of the battle. In April, four 
 months later, after the war was over, he had sufficiently recovered to 
 travel, when he came to FrankMn, as he stated, expressly to get the 
 young ladies to finish the song, and relieve his ears. His wife and 
 more than a dozen officers accompanied him. He found the ladies, 
 and they sang and played the piece through for him in the presence 
 of all the officers, and they wept like children." 
 
 If you have made any music that will ring for four months in 
 the ears of a person that doesn't know one tune from another, I 
 thought you ought to know it. 
 
 As I have said, when anything happened that could be 
 voiced in a song, or when the heart of the Nation was moved 
 by particular circumstances or conditions caused by the war, 
 I wrote what I thought would then express the emotions 
 of the soldiers or the people. Picturing the condition and 
 thoughts of the soldier on the eve of an engagement, I wrote 
 "Just before the battle, mother" and "Within the sound of 
 
THE STOHY OF A MU6ICAI, I,IFE. 1 37 
 
 the enemy's guns." When our brave Colonel Mulligan fell, 
 his last words were " I,ay me down and save the flag." The 
 day after the Hews of that event reached us, the song bearing 
 that title was issued. It was much sung at the time in re- 
 membrance of that distinguished and ^lamented officer. I 
 tried to help the enlistments by "Come, brothers, all, 'tis 
 Columbia's call," and . to hit the copperhead element of the 
 North by " Stand up for Uncle Sam, boys." I voiced the 
 feeling of the people in regard to the treatment of pi'isoners 
 by " Starved in prison," and gave a more hopeful view in 
 "Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching." "O, come 
 you from the battle-field?" arid "Brother, tell me of the 
 battle " represented the anxiety of those who had fathers or 
 sons or brothers in the army, and "The Vacant Chair" the 
 mourning for the lost one. One of the thrilling scenes of 
 the war is described in "Who'll Save the lyeft?" and the 
 grief of the Nation at the death of President I^incoln by 
 "Farewell, father, friend and guardian." This is a partial 
 list of the songs that I wrote during the war. Only a few 
 had an extended use and popularity, but none was entirely 
 useless. 
 
 One day early in the war a quiet and rather solemn-look- 
 ing--young man, poorly clad, was sent up to my room from 
 the store with a song for me to examine. I looked at it and 
 then at him in astonishment. It was " Kingdom Coming," 
 — elegant in manuscript, full of bright, good sense and com- 
 ical situations in its " darkey" dialect — the words fitting the 
 melody almost as aptly and neatly as Gilbert fits Sullivan — 
 the. melody decidedly good and taking, and the whole exactly 
 suited to the times. " Did you write this — words and music? " 
 I asked. A gentle "Yes" was the answer. " What is your 
 business, if I may inquire?" "I am a printer." "Would 
 you rather write music than set type? " " Yes." " Well, if 
 this is a specimen of what you can do, I think you may give 
 
138 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 Up the printing business." He liked that idea very much, 
 and an arrangement with us was soon made. He needed 
 some musical help that I could give him, and we needed just 
 such songs as he could write. The connection, which con- 
 tinued some years, proved very profitable both to him and 
 to us. This was Henry C. Work, whose principal songs 
 while he was with us were " Kingdom Coming," " Babylon 
 is Fallen," "Wake, Nicodemus," "Ring the Bell, Watch- 
 man," "Song of a Thousand Years," "Marching Thro' 
 Georgia" amd " Come Home, Father." 
 
 Mr. Work was a slow, pains-taking writer, being from 
 one to three weeks upon a song ; but when the work was 
 done it was like a piece of fine mosaic, especially in the fit- 
 ting of words to music. His " Marching Thro' Georgia" is 
 more played and sung at the present time than any other 
 song of the war. This is not only on account of the intrinsic 
 merit of its words and music, but because it is retrospective. 
 Other war songs, " The B&ttle-cry of Freedom " for example, 
 were for exciting the patriotic feeling on going in to the war 
 or the battle; "Marching Thro' Georgia" is a glorious re- 
 membrance on coming triumphantly out, and so has been 
 more appropriate to soldiers' and other gatherings ever since. 
 
 It must have been some time in 1863 that I received a 
 letter from somewhere in Pennsylvania that interested us 
 all very much. It accompanied the manuscript of a song. 
 Would we give the writer a flute for it, was the substance 
 of the letter, expressed in a qiiaint and original way, and in 
 beautiful handwriting. We were on the lookout for bright 
 men, and we felt sure that here was one. The song needed 
 some revising, but we took it and sent him the flute. After 
 a while he wrote again, saying he would like to come out to 
 Chicago if he could find anything to do. He gave an account 
 of his accomplishments in his droll way, and we all became 
 nrach interested in having him come. I think it was he who 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 1 39 
 
 finally made the plan that was agreed upon, namely : He 
 would go as our representative to the towns that would 
 naturally be tributary to Chicago, and hold conventions, or 
 give concerts, or do something musical, whenever he could 
 get the opportunity, (his wife being his accompanist,) and so 
 turn people's attention to us for whatever they might want 
 in the way of music. For this service we guaranteed him a 
 certain annual sum. If the proceeds of his concerts and 
 conventions did not reach that amount we were to make it 
 up. While engaged in this work he was constantly sending 
 in words and music of various kinds for revision and correc- 
 tion. It was not long before I saw that here was a man who 
 had a "call" especially as a poet. His musical training and 
 experiences were too limited to permit safe flights on his part 
 beyond simple harmonies, although it was easily seen that 
 he had a natural vein of true melody. What a wonderful use 
 his songs have performed now for more than a score of years. 
 I presume it is seen that I am writing of the beloved and 
 lamented P. P. Bliss. 
 
 When Mr. Moody, from being a simple, hard working 
 but devoted city missionary in Chicago, began to come to 
 the front as an evangelist, Mr. Bliss's songs, and some that I 
 wrote, were of much use to him. He used to say of my first 
 gospel song, " Come to the Savior," that it was the " Rally 
 Round the Flag " of the gospel work. It was indeed stirring 
 when Mr. Bliss's magnificent voice gave it forth, for it then 
 came from a heart and soul in deepest sympathy with the 
 work to which he ultimately devoted himself— the writing 
 and singing of gospel songs. He remained with us until the 
 breaking up caused by the great fire, and we published all 
 the songs and other music that he wrote up to that time. 
 
 The growth of our business after the war commenced 
 was something remarkable. The name of Root & Cady 
 went an over the land on our war songs, and on our little 
 
140 THE STORY OP A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 musical monthly, The Song Messenger of the Northwest. 
 Those among the people and in the army who liked our 
 publications seemed to turn to us for everything they wanted 
 in our line when it was possible. We kept everything in 
 the way of musical merchandise from pianos and organs to 
 jewsharps, and all the music of the day in book or sheet 
 form. My brother attended to the business detail in all the 
 departments, Mr. Cady to the finances and general manage- 
 ment, and I to the publications. My brother William was 
 also with us in the oflBce. 
 
 Speaking of The Song Messenger reminds me of an inci- 
 dent that may be worth mentioning. We published a New 
 Year's extra in those days which we sent broadcast from 
 Maine to — I was going to say Georgia, but that section was 
 barred out then. We sent from the North and West as far 
 South as we could. I think we were the first to send " To 
 the principal singer," etc., and the plan being new the little 
 missives were not thrown into the waste basket to any ex- 
 tent, either by postmasters or recipients, but produced great 
 results. I used to write a song for this extra. The year 
 previous to the time of which I am speaking, " Just before 
 the battle, mother," was the song. December was now ap- 
 proaching, and I was very much interested in something I 
 was working at — " The Curriculum," I think it was — and had 
 put off the song for the coming extra. One day my brother 
 said, " We must have that song or we can not get the paper 
 into the hands of the people by New Year's Day ; go write 
 it now while it is on your mind." In two hours I brought 
 him the song. We tried it over and he said, " I must con- 
 fess I don't think much of it, but it may do." I was inclined 
 to agree with him about the music, but after all was a little 
 disappointed, because I had grown quite warm and interested 
 in writing the words. They were on a subject that was then 
 very near the hearts of the loyal people of the North. The 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< LIFE. 141 
 
 song was " Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching," 
 and was not only an illustration of the advantage of my 
 blackboard training, but was a further confirmation of what 
 I have said before, that in my case successes were usually 
 surprises. 
 
 In 1863, having outgrown our quarters on Clark street, 
 we moved into the Crosby Opera-house building, then just 
 erected on Washington street, near State. This store and 
 basement were one hundred and eighty feet long by thirty in 
 width, to which was eventually added a building just across 
 the alley in the rear, which aggregated a still larger floor 
 area. The basement in this rear building was occupied by 
 our printing-office and steam presses, and the main floor by 
 pianos and organs. The second story had rooms for band 
 and orchestra instruments and " small goods," and one fitted 
 up for my use. Here I made my books and songs, and 
 looked after the publishing interests of the house. This 
 large amount of room was necessitated by the buying out of 
 various small musical establishments, culminating in the 
 purchase-of the extensive catalogue, with all its music plates, 
 of the entire stock of Henry Tolman & Co., of Boston — 
 two or three car loads. This catalogue included that of 
 Nathan Richardson, afterwards Russell & Richardson, and 
 afterwards Russell & Tolman. So the songs of mine that 
 they had published came back to me, and I was now their 
 publisher as well as author. 
 
 When " The Battle-cry of Freedom " came out I sent, 
 as usual, the first copy to my wife, who was still at North 
 Reading. Soon after she received it she learned that James 
 R. Murray, one of our Normal boys, to whom we were much 
 attached, had volunteered, and was then in camp at I^ynn- 
 field, the next town east, so she and my father determined to 
 go and give him a " God speed " before he went to the front. 
 They did so, and gave him the new song, which he intro- 
 
142 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< LIFE. 
 
 duced into that section of the army. While in Virginia, in 
 his second year of service, Mr. Murray wrote and sent us 
 " Daisy Deane," a beautiful song, which, doubtless, some of 
 my readers will remember. It was one of the marked suc- 
 cesses of the day. We kept up a constant correspondence, 
 and I saw not only his musical abilities, but unmistakable 
 signs of hid editorial capabilities. So when he left the army 
 he came to us as editor of The Song Messenger, and assistant 
 ill the writing and publishing department of our business. 
 
 There came to us in those days a very interesting and 
 talented man by the name of Hanby. He was educated for 
 the ministry, but was so strongly inclined to music that he 
 decided to try to make that his life's work. He had already 
 written " Darling Nelly Gray,-" which was published by O. 
 Ditson & Co., and which had a large sale. He was also the 
 author of " Ole Shady," which is famous still. He wrote 
 while with us some beautiful Sunday-school songs, some of 
 which are in use yet. But he died almost at the commence- 
 ment of his career. 
 
 I must not omit to speak in this connection of Chauncey 
 M. Wyman, whom I have mentioned as one of the North 
 Reading normals, and who cast in his lot with us in those 
 days. He had used my books in his convention work in the 
 East, and had attended some conventions that I conducted 
 in Vermont and New Hampshire. In one he was assistant 
 conductor, and I saw that he was one of the coming men. 
 So when he decided that he would have a book of his own I 
 asked him to come out to Chicago and make it, and we would 
 publish it. This he did, and " The Palm " was the result. 
 What he would have done as a composer can hardly be told 
 by this one effort, but as a conductor I have no hesitation in 
 saying that he would have stood in the highest rank had he 
 lived. His magnetism was wonderful, and his control of a 
 chorus absolute. What he wished to accomplish he did, if 
 
THE STORY Olf A MUSICAL LIFE. 1 43 
 
 the capacities of the singers were equal to his conceptions. 
 I have a very tender feeling when I think of the great Nor- 
 mal (of which I will speak later), where he was our oratorio 
 conductor, and from which he went to his New England 
 home never to leave it alive. His calm exterior gave no hint 
 of the intense strain he was under on that memorable occa- 
 sion in the introduction and use of his first book and the 
 conducting of our great chorus. We also published the early, 
 if not the first works of H. R. Palmer — " The Song Queen," 
 "The Song King," "The Normal Collection," and " Palmer's 
 Concert Choruses." 
 
 Among the incidents in regard to people who became 
 connected with us in those days I must not omit this: One 
 day a delicate and refined looking, but poorly clad young 
 man came to the office, which was in the center of the store 
 and where I happened to be, and said : " I am a musician, 
 and wish employment. I have been in a theatrical company 
 which has disbanded in Indiana, and my trunk is detained 
 there. I am entirely without means, but I can play, I can 
 read well at sight, and I can compose, as I will show you." 
 All this was said with the utmost fluency, after which he 
 stepped lightly to a piano and played an Etude elegantly. 
 He then asked for pen and music paper, and wrote without 
 the slightest hesitation or delay a song, words and music. I 
 do not know why I did not think that last performance a 
 pretense, for the work was as elegant as his playing, but I 
 did not. There was something about him that made us all 
 feel that under that airy manner there was solid musical 
 attainment, and that he was all he pretended to be. That 
 proved true, and he was with us a year or two. He was 
 then W. J. Robjohn, but is at present known as Caryl Plorio, 
 one of New York's most accomplished musicians. 
 
 When our business began to assume the large proportions 
 that it afterward reached, I saw that it could no longer be 
 
144 TH35 STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIPE. 
 
 regarded as a secondary matter or a recreation. It was clear 
 that I was to be absorbed in its whirl as my hard-working 
 brother had been from the beginning. My department now 
 demanded nearly all the time I could spare from writing, and 
 to attend to that properly I must give up conventions, and, 
 consequently. Willow Farm as home. So in 1863 I moved 
 my family to Chicago. It consisted then of wife, two sons, 
 and three daughters. F. W., the oldest, had taken lessons 
 upon the piano from Mr. B. C. Blodgett, now one of the most 
 prosperous musical men of Massachusetts, and then he had 
 studied for a while with Mr. William Mason in New York. 
 He took an organist's situation as soon as he arrived in 
 Chicago, and divided his time between the store and practice. 
 When my second son finished his school studies in Chicago 
 both boys went to Europe, and studied music and languages 
 in Germany and Italy for a year or more. On their return, 
 F. W. decided to make music his profession, and Charles 
 went into the store. . 
 
 Early in the war, probably in 1862, the last Normal in 
 which Dr. Mason taught was held in Wooster, Ohio. Dr. 
 Mason, myself, and Geo. B. I^oomis were the principal teach- 
 ers, and the work continued six weeks. There was a good 
 attendance, but the recruiting oflBicers around us, and an oc- 
 casional war meeting kept up an excitement that worked 
 against us, not only in other people's minds but in our own. 
 We were deeply interested in the struggle, and always ready 
 to help at the war meetings. The new war-songs contributed 
 not a little to rouse the enthusiasm of the people and help 
 the recruiting, sung as they were by our fine chorus. Phillip 
 Phillips, I remember, was one of the normals of that session. 
 When the war began no one thought it would last long 
 — a year was the outside limit in most minds, but in the 
 second year the magnitude of the undertaking began to ap- 
 pear. So many young men of the North were in the army 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< I,IFE. 145 
 
 that I made no more attempts to hold the Normal until the 
 war was over. Then I think the first one was in Winona, 
 Minnesota. I was the principal, but the younger men were 
 now coming to the front, and I had excellent assistants in 
 Bliss, Towne, F. W. (before he went abroad), and O. D. 
 Adams. J. R. Murray was left in charge of my department 
 of the business in Chicago. At the next Normal H. R. 
 Palmer and I joined forces. It was held in Janesville, Wis., 
 and was a large and interesting gathering. 
 
 But the most memorable Normal session of those days 
 was held in South Bend, Indiana, in 1870. Dr. Mason and 
 Mr. Webb had left the work to younger hands. Mr. Brad- 
 bury had passed away, and I was alone of the original four. 
 I secured the services of Carlo Bassini, then well known and 
 extremely popular throughout the United States, as the voice 
 teacher, and William Mason, the distinguished pianist, not 
 only to give lessons to advanced pupils, but to give recitals 
 and lectures twice a week' to the entire Institute. These 
 recitals inaugurated a new department in Normal work, 
 which has been kept up ever since. Chauncey M. Wyman, 
 of whom I have spoken, was our chorus and oratorio con- 
 ductor, and Bliss, Towne, and F. W. Root (just returned from 
 Europe) assisted in various departments. W. S. B. Mathews, 
 of Chicago, was Mr. Mason's assistant in piano teaching. I 
 think it was here that C. C. Case and James McGranahan 
 made their first appearance as Normal pupils. S. W. Straub 
 was also a member this year. 
 
 Schuyler Colfax, then Vice-President of the United States, 
 lived in South Bend, and was very fond of looking in upon 
 us, and on one occasion I asked him to say something to the 
 class. He first wanted to know how many were in attend- 
 ance. I told him about two hundred from abroad. (I be- 
 lieve there were one hundred and eighty actual teachers and 
 those intending to teach.) He then wanted to know how 
 
146 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL WFE. 
 
 manj' States were represented, and asked the members from 
 the diflFerent States to raise their hands as he named their 
 State. This was done, and it was found that seventeen States 
 and Canada were represented in the membership of the In- 
 stitute. Then Mr. Colfax commenced his speech by saying : 
 "This should be called 'The National Musical Institute,' 
 since the nation is so largely represented in it," and I was 
 glad to adopt that designation, as " Normals" had now sprung 
 up all over the land. 
 
 The evening chorus was a noble one, numbering nearly 
 three hundred singers. The oratorio was the "Creation," 
 and at the first rehearsal Mr. Wyman tried several of the 
 choruses, among them " The Heavens are Telling," to ascer- 
 tain the reading ability of his class. The choruses were not 
 well sung, but there was no breakdown. They were read 
 straight through. Mr. Bassini, who was present, expressed 
 some surprise that people from such widely varied localities 
 should have all sung the " Creation." I told him they had 
 probably never seen it before. This he could not believe. 
 I then asked all who had sung " The Heavens are Telling " 
 before to rise, and four persons stood up. "Ah," said Mr. 
 Bassini, in his demonstrative way, " I was for many years 
 chorus master for the Italian opera in different countries of 
 Europe and in South America, and I never found people 
 who could read like that." "How did you teach them?" I 
 asked. " Oh, I played the part they were to sing over and 
 over on my violin until they learned it. It was g^reat drudg- 
 ery." Recalling that incident reminds me that Mr. Bassini 
 came to this country as a solo violinist. I heard him in that 
 capacity in New York in '46 or '47. He did not succeed in 
 that line, although he played finely, and for a time he went 
 out of sight. Then he began to be known as a teacher of 
 singing, and from that time no one ever heard of him as a 
 violinist. He knew well the value of having but one spe- 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, WFE. 147 
 
 cialty. Ill this lie became famous, and made a great deal of 
 money. He cleared over a thousand dollars in his six weeks 
 with us at South Bend. But he was a delicate man. It was 
 only his indomitable will that kept his frail body up to the 
 work he did. He went to Chicago from South Bend to teach 
 in a short Normal that Mr. Palmer was holding, and was 
 there my guest. But he could not stay through. He left 
 the second week, and went home to die. He was a most 
 lovable man, and is remembered with warm affection by us 
 all. 
 
148 THS STORY OF A MUSICAI< WFE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 1871-1873, CHICAGO — THE HEALTH LIFT AND THE ASTONISHED 
 PIANO MOVERS ^^ THE GIGANTIC LOTTERY SCHEME — OUR 
 SUCCESSFUL PUBLICATIONS, INCLUDING DR. PALMER'S AND 
 MR. bliss's early WORKS — HEAVY STOCK — THE GREAT 
 FIRE — MY GREEN BOX — MR. CURWEN'S GIFT — NEW BUSI- 
 NESS ARRANGEMENTS — THE NORMAL OF '72 — THE SAD 
 TELEGRAM. 
 
 WHEN my convention work was at its height, and I 
 about thirty-eight years of age, I used to have occa- 
 sionally a nervous re-action at the close of my four days' 
 work that afifected my head unpleasantly. When our in- 
 creasing business confined me more, and some large obliga- 
 tions that were upon us made me anxious, the trouble came 
 oftener and each time remained longer. Finally it came to 
 stay. The doctors said it was a trouble of the brain, and I 
 must quit business — had better go to Europe, or somewhere 
 away. About that time Mr. Curwen (the elder), hearing that 
 I was out of health, invited me to make him a visit. He 
 wrote that if I would come they would welcome me to l/on- 
 don with a chorus of five thousand voices singing my music. 
 But I had not the courage to face the sea voyage and de- 
 clined. 
 
 Being near Boston not long after, a medical friend said : 
 " Try Butler ; they say he has done wonders for such cases 
 as yours." "Who is Butler?" '■' Oh, he is a man who has 
 an apparatus for lifting — says he can make people so strong 
 that they can lift away all troubles that flesh is heir to." I 
 could see that my friend had not unqualified confidence in 
 
THB STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFE. I49 
 
 the scheme, or, rather, that he had the usual professional 
 distrust of anything out of the regular line ; but drowning 
 men catch at straws, so I tried it. I booked myself for three 
 months of lifting iron weights. I went once a day, occupy- 
 ing about half an hour each time in making four lifts. Noth- 
 ing could be more simple — standing erect upon a table, bend- 
 ing the knees, grasping a handle which was attached to a 
 bar, upon which weights were hung under the table, and 
 then straightening up. The act was a matter of a few sec- 
 onds, but it sent the blood to .every capillary of the body. 
 As the strength increased the weights were increased. The 
 third week I was inclined to be discouraged, for I did not 
 feel any better. If anything, my troubles were sharper and 
 more pronounced ; but Mr. Butler smiled his imperturbable 
 smile, and said: "Can you lift more than you could last 
 week?" "Yes." "Are you absolutely sure of that?" "Yes; 
 there can be no doubt about that ; there are the iron weights 
 to prove it." " Then, no matter how you feel, you are better." 
 This bolstered me up and I went on. I required this kind 
 of help several times before the three months were out. My 
 troubles had been years in coming on, and were not to be 
 driven away in a few weeks. But before the three months 
 Were out I saw that I was on the right track, so I purchased 
 a set of the apparatus and had it sent to my house in Chicago. 
 There I continued its use, and in six months I began to 
 work a little. 
 
 After a while it got noised about that I was lifting heavy 
 weights. Our piano movers were specially interested in 
 what was said. I was still rather pale, and certainly did not 
 look like a person who could lift such weights as they prided 
 then.selves upon lifting, so they were entirely skeptical on 
 the subject. They said. nothing to me, but were disposed to 
 be facetious about the matter among themselves, as I was 
 told. One day they had occasion to move a piano to my 
 
150 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 house, and I said, " Boys, would you like to try the lift?" 
 They assented eagerly, and followed me up into the attic, 
 where I had a room arranged for the apparatus. I showed 
 them what to do, and put on a moderate weight which they 
 all lifted in turn. There were three of them. Then I added 
 more, and continued until they began to give out. The 
 youngest, who was a very strong lad of twenty, just strug- 
 gled up with six hundred. Then I added another hundred 
 and lifted it without difficulty. Their astonishment and con- 
 sternation were amusing. There must be some trick about 
 it. But no ; there were the iron disks, weighing fifty pounds 
 each, which they could take into their hands, and fourteen 
 of them were on the bar. I did not explain to them that I 
 probably could not have lifted in a stooping position what 
 they did, nor that while certain of their muscles used in that 
 position were very strong, certain others, when they stood 
 straight, were not up to the mark, and when the strain came 
 equally on all, the weak ones gave way, just as a chain in 
 use would only be as strong as its weakest link. They never 
 could understand it, and looked at me with awe and wonder 
 after that, whenever I passed them in the store or on the 
 street. 
 
 In a year and a half I could lift more than a thousand 
 pounds, and my troubles were gone. Meanwhile my partners 
 and others tried it and were benefited, and we furnished the 
 capital to start a room where the system could be adminis- 
 tered to the public, and Dr. Frank W. Reilly was placed in 
 charge. He called the establishment the " Health I/ift," and 
 made some important improvements in the apparatus, and 
 gave a clear and rational statement of the reasons for its 
 success. This was among the prosperous enterprises swept 
 away by the great fire. 
 
 A curious episode in our opera-house life is worth relat- 
 ing. Somewhere about '69 Mr. Crosby, under some financial 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, WFE. I5I 
 
 pressure, put up his magnificent building as the prize in a 
 gigantic lottery scheme. One hundred thousand tickets at 
 five dollars apiece were to be sold, and the holder of the 
 successful one was to own the opera-house — one chance in 
 one hundred thousand. Tickets were sold all over the Uni- 
 ted States, and it was almost a national affair when the time 
 for drawing came. At all events the excitement in and about 
 the building was intense. I was not present when the draw- 
 ing took place, but I think it was done by a child blindfolded, 
 the tickets having been thoroughly stirred up in a revolving 
 cylinder. The winner was a miller in southern Illinois, but 
 he was immediately induced, under the fear that the whole 
 proceeding might be found to be illegal, to take a much less 
 sum than five hundred thousand dollars for his prize. But 
 what he did receive made him a rich man. He came into 
 the store after the matter was all settled, and, looking about, 
 remarked, " I owned all this for half an hour." In the course 
 of the conversation he said, " I knew I should win ; I always 
 do." Then he gave some account of his successes at fairs and 
 raffles in St. l/ouis, near which city he lived, which, if true, 
 were certainly very remarkable. I think the building went 
 back into Mr. Crosby's hands. 
 
 Up to 1 87 1 we had published of my composition the war 
 songs before mentioned, and a good many others on various 
 subjects, and of books " The Silver I^ute," " The Bugle Call," 
 "Chapel Gems," "The Musical Fountain," "The Forest 
 Choir," " The Prize," " The Coronet," " The Triumph," and 
 "The Musical Curriculum." On my works we had both 
 author's and publisher's profit. On those of other authors, 
 for whom we published, we had only the publisher's profit, 
 as on them we paid royalties. 
 
 When the war closed the war songs stopped as if they had 
 been shot. Everybody had had enough of war. " Tramp " 
 was the last successful one, and had but a short life — ^less 
 
152 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL MPE. 
 
 than a year, but in that time our profit on it was ten thou- 
 sand dollars. All the songs by Mr. "Work and myself, that 
 have been mentioned, had large sales, the above giving some 
 general idea of the profit of each to author and publisher. 
 Of " The Silver Lute " (for day schools) were sold more than 
 a hundred thousand copies. " The Prize," for Sunday schools, 
 was still more successful. " The Triumph," which was the 
 last successful large-sized book for choirs and conventions 
 ($13.50 a dozen), sold ninety thousand copies the first year, 
 at a profit to us of thirty thousand dollars. H. R. Palmer 
 made the first successful smaller-sized books for singing 
 classes and conventions — the " Song Queen " and the " Song 
 King," both of which had very large sales, and contributed 
 proportionately to our profits. All the other books by Mr. 
 Palmer and myself, as well as those by Mr. Bliss, that we 
 published, were fairly successful. My largest work, "The 
 Musical Curriculum," had been but recently issued, and at 
 this date was just getting under way. 
 
 In pianos, organs, band instruments and general musical 
 merchandise we had a large trade and carried a heavy stock. 
 The two floors in the opera-house, 180 by 30 feet each, and 
 as much room in the rear building, were filled to overflow- 
 ing, beside the basement, in which was the type-setting and 
 printing department. One can get some idea of the space 
 required simply for a fair stock of books for such a trade as 
 we had by considering how much room twenty-five cords of 
 wood would take, and then, by figuring, ascertain that the 
 ninety thousand " Triumph," spoken of above, would make 
 more than twenty-five cords of books. 
 
 And now the memorable autumn of 187 1 had come. Our 
 presses had been at work all summer, and great piles of books 
 filled the basement of the main building, ready for the fall 
 trade. They would all be gone in a few weeks, so we did 
 not take out a special insurance upon them, but assumed the 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAL WFB. 1 53 
 
 risk for that short time ourselves. I lived then in Groveland 
 Park, near the Chicago University, about four miles south 
 from our place of business. Between three and four o'clock 
 in the morning of the ninth of October some one waked me 
 and said Jerome Beardslee was at the door in a buggy and 
 wanted to see me. What could Jerome want at that time in 
 the morning, and why should he come in a buggy, since he 
 lives next door but one ? I got up and tried to light the gas, 
 but there was none. I hurried on my clothes and went down. 
 " What is the matter, Jerome ? " " There's a great fire down 
 town, and it is spreading fearfully. Our store is gone, but I 
 got the books out, and have just brought them home. I am 
 going back, and if you would like to ride with me you can. 
 I think you'll be in time to see your place go." I went, and 
 when we got within a mile of the fire we began to see signs 
 of the great disaster. Groups of men, women and children 
 (some scantily clad) were standing by such household goods 
 as they had brought to where they supposed they were out 
 of the reach of the flames. Team after team added to the 
 number until the streets were lined with the fugitives and 
 such of t-ieir belongings as they could save. 
 
 The wind blew fiercely from the south-west, so the flames 
 spread -less .rapidly our way, but on the north side nearly all 
 the people who thought their goods were out of danger had 
 to move again and again, and finally see them burn for the 
 want of means to get them out on to the prairie beyond 
 the farthest houses, four miles from the center. Some who 
 placed their goods on the lake shore where there was a beach, 
 not only had to see them burn, but had to get into the water 
 to save their lives. The heat of the fire, maddened by the 
 tornado it had caused, was beyond conception. I saw deli- 
 cate looking tongues of flame shoot across an open space 
 twenty or thirty feet wide, and a marble building dissolve 
 under their touch as if it had been of sand. The action of a 
 
154 THE STORY OP A MUSICAI, LIFIt. 
 
 gigantic compound blow-pipe was the only thing to which 
 one could liken those streams of flame and their effect. 
 Nothing could stand before them. In the presence of miles 
 of such intense heat our firemen and their steam engines 
 were as impotent as children with toy watering-pots would 
 have been. To get hose near enough at any point to be of 
 any use would be to see it curl and shrivel as if it had been 
 made of paper. In fact, much of the fire apparatus was de- 
 stroyed before it could be got out of the way. No complete 
 idea of this scene can be had without keeping before the mind 
 the fierce wind, filled with keen cutting sand and cinders that 
 hurled great flaming brands for blocks over the yet unburnt 
 houses. When the fire had done its work but few walls 
 were standing as landmarks. We could not tell, in the busi- 
 ness part of the city, where the streets were. lyocalities that 
 two days before were as familiar to us as the rooms of our 
 own houses were now a strange, wild desolation. 
 
 I was in time to see the cpstly and elegant opera-house 
 go. I could not get near enough to see the rear building in 
 which was my working-room and library. I wondered if 
 my green box was safe. The young men in the store had 
 laughed among themselves a good deal because I often said^ 
 " If there's a fire, save that green box." It was an old paper 
 affair, but it contained my daily work and all my unpub- 
 lished manuscripts. We had built a large brick vault in the 
 cellar of the rear building, but a few months before, to make 
 a safe place for the plates of our now very large catalogue. 
 It was the duty of the porter to put the green box in the 
 vault with the other valuables at night. He had not done 
 so at this time, and Mr. Murray's brother Robert, who slept 
 near, and was hastily looking about just before the fire 
 reached there, saw it, and remembering my injunction, saved 
 it. All our important plates were in the vault, excepting 
 those of the " Song King " and the " Curriculum." They 
 
THE STORY OF A MTJSICAI, LIFE. 155 
 
 were in use at the printing office, and were destroyed. New 
 plates of the " Song King '' were immediately made in Cleve- 
 land, but I revised the " Curriculum," and its present form 
 is the result. 
 
 One of the noticeable things at the opera-house, as the 
 fire approached it, was the announcement that Theodore 
 Thomas' " unrivaled orchestra " would give a concert there 
 that evening. When the flames enveloped the beautiful 
 building I thought of their fine instruments, some of which 
 had been left there, and my mind also ran over a list of the 
 familiar and valuable objects belonging to us that were then 
 being offered up in that fearful holocaust — the costly coun- 
 ters, desks, and general fittings of oak and maple, the long 
 lines of shelves of sheet music, the cords of books in the 
 basement, the hundreds of elegant pianos and organs, fine 
 violins, guitars and band instruments, the still greater num- 
 ber of accordeons, and other small instruments, strings, 
 reeds, etc., the printing office and presses, and the fine room 
 in which F. W., Mr. Murray and myself had done so much 
 pleasant and successful work. In a few minutes all were 
 gone. It was sad, but the calamity was so general and so 
 overwhelming that individual losses seemed insignificant in 
 comparison, even though they reached the sum of a quarter 
 of a million, as ours did. 
 
 The days immediately following the fire were passed in 
 anxious waiting to see if the vault and safes had protected 
 our plates and account books. It was some days before they 
 were cool enough to open ; when they were, their contents 
 were found to be safe, though some of the papers were 
 scorched. Every mail, too, brought business letters that 
 had to be attended to. I think the first orders for goods 
 were sent to Cleveland and Cincinnati to be filled, but it was 
 not long before we had a large dwelling house on Michigan 
 avenue fitted up and stocked, and business went on. The 
 
156 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL WFE. 
 
 nights at first were filled with anxious forebodings. The 
 city was in total darkness, and reports were rife that incen- 
 diaries were about and would set fires for pillage. So for 
 weeks a patrol was organized to keep watch all night, and in 
 this all had to take part. Then the generous letters began 
 to come. The event was unprecedented, and the feeling it 
 awoke in friend for friend, and in the whole world for the 
 city was also unprecedented; we were overwhelmed with 
 kindness ; but all that is too well known to need repetition 
 here. I will reprint from the Song Messenger but one after 
 the fire, the following : 
 
 " So the smoke clears away, and the sun shines again, and from 
 every side sympathy and aid pour in. Read this from good Mr. Cur- 
 wen, the extensive publisher of the tonic-sol-fa system in England: 
 
 " London, November 10, 1871. 
 
 " Dear Mr. Root: Our agent, at 8 Warwick Lane, says he knows 
 Chicago well, and that there can be no doubt that your fine premises 
 are burned. Even if you are fully insured this interruption of busi- 
 ness must cause you heavy loss and much care. I am very sorry. 
 
 " Will you kindly accept the enclosed cheque for Twenty Pounds, 
 to be used for the help of your people or any other sufferers by the 
 fire? Kindly let them know that it is from one who has delighted in 
 your music and has spread it abroad in England. 
 
 " My sons and I wish to be kindly remembered to your two sons. 
 
 " Hoping to hear of your welfare, I am, dear Mr. Root, yours, with 
 cordial respect, John Curwen." 
 
 The paper goes on to say: "The £20 realized $107.44, 
 and are now on their mission of blessing." It continues: "I 
 ought to say that my sons visited Mr. Curwen during their 
 late stay in ICurope, and were delighted with the excellent 
 working of his system ; and I may add that we are really 
 tonic-sol-faists in this country as to the matter of key rela- 
 tionship, the difference being in notation." 
 
 As soon as it could be brought about, our business plans 
 for the future were adjusted. We had lost all our stock, but 
 the plates and copyrights remained, and if I would give up 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAI, WFB. 1 57 
 
 some unencumbered real estate that I had, Mr. Cady and my 
 brother would, with the above and the insurance money 
 they hoped to get, undertake to pay the debts in full and go 
 on with the business. I finally agreed to this proposition, 
 and then two firms were formed. The first consisted of my 
 brother E. T., Mr. Gady, and Mr. William Lewis, the well- 
 known violinist, who had been with us for some years in 
 charge of the "imported goods" department. They con- 
 tinued under the name of Root & Cady, and proposed to deal 
 only in pianos, organs, and the merchandise of Mr. I^ewis' 
 department. The other firm consisted of my two sons, my 
 brother William and myself. We took the name of Geo. 
 F. Root & Sons, and started with the expectation of confin- 
 ing ourselves to sheet music, music books, and music pub- 
 lishing. In this arrangement I need not say it was clearly 
 understood that I was to be free to resume my professional 
 life untrammeled by business cares. My son F. W. also 
 provided for himself much in the same way. William and 
 Charles were to manage the business, whatever it might be. 
 One of Root & Cady's first acts was to sell the book cat- 
 alogue, plates and copyrights to John Church & Co., of Cin- 
 cinnati, and the sheet music plates and copyrights to S. 
 Brainard's Sons, Cleveland. These sales realized a large 
 sum — in the neighborhood of one hundred and thirty thou- 
 sand dollars, if I remember rightly — but so many insurance 
 companies failed that they did not get half their insurance, 
 and when the hard times, which followed the fire, came on, 
 could not meet the great liabilities they had assumed, and 
 were obliged to close up. With the assistance of a wealthy 
 friend we purchased their stock. They went through bank- 
 ruptcy, and Mr. Cady left the city. My brother E. T. and 
 Mr. lycwis then started in again, under the firm name of 
 Root & I^ewis, and we (Geo. F. Root & Sons) formed a 
 connection with John Church & Co., of Cincinnati. The last 
 
158 THE STORY OF A. MUSICAL tlFE. 
 
 named arrangement came about naturally, because this Cin- 
 cinnati firm were now the owners and publishers of our 
 former books, which were still successful, and they desired 
 to continue the works of the same authors on their list. 
 
 From the re-adjustment after the fire I was in my old 
 life again — the Normal in the summer, conventions at vari- 
 ous times and in various places, and at my desk making 
 books and songs the rest of the time. The Normal of 1872 
 was held during the vacation of the Chicago University, in 
 their fine building overlooking I^ake Michigan, with Carl 
 Zerrahn, Robert Goldbeck, F. W. Root, P. P. Bliss, James 
 Gill, O. Blackman, C. A. Havens, and others, as my co- 
 workers. We had also at this session Miss Cornelia Walker, 
 now at the head of one of the Normal schools of California, 
 as teacher of the " art of teaching." The University had 
 shortly before conferred upon me the degree of Doctor of 
 Music, and I speak of it here to remark that in this country 
 that title is only a matter of courtesy. No examinations are 
 required before it is given, and therefore it does not neces- 
 sarily imply high musical attainments on the part of the 
 recipient. I know of but two or three American-made Doc- 
 tors of Music that I think could pass the examination re- 
 quired for that degree in England, and I regret to say I am 
 not one of them. 
 
 From an account in the Song Messenger of this Normal, 
 the following item comes in properly : 
 
 " Another day toward the close of the session is memorable as 
 bringing to our knowledge an event of deep and sad interest to us 
 all. A telegram was brought which read; 
 
 " ' Father died peacefully last night at ten o'clock. 
 
 Henry Mason,'" 
 
 How subduing was the effect, and how spontaneous and 
 unanimous was the passage of the following resolution : 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, I,IFB. 159 
 
 "Resolved, That iu the death of Dr. Lowell Mason we recognize 
 the loss of one who in matters of church music and musical educa- 
 tion in this country is the great reformer of the century.'' 
 
 All felt that as teachers, choir leaders or writers of 
 people's music we owed a debt of eternal gratitude to the 
 man whose long life and noble work and powerful influence 
 had done so much to place the musical profession in the 
 honorable position it occupies at the present time. 
 
l6o THE STORY OF A MUSICAL I<IFE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 1873-1886, CHICAGO — BUSINESS RE-ADJUSTMENTS — VARIOUS 
 NORMAL INSTITUTES AND CONVENTIONS — THE MEMORABLE 
 CENTENNIAL YEAR — PARK CHURCH AT ELMIRA — GRASSHOP- 
 PERS — A FURTHER LIST OP BOOKS — ENGLISH EDITIONS — 
 PASSAGE TAKEN TO CROSS THE WATER AGAIN. 
 
 A FTER the purchase of the stock of the old firm in 1873, 
 -^"^ Geo. F.Root & Sons went on doing a general music 
 business, John Church & Co. and ourselves being the pub- 
 lishers of our works. It was a time of great business de- 
 pression, but we had a " tower of strength " in the Cincin- 
 nati house, and Mr. Church's wise counsels guided us safely 
 through. We still published the Song Messenger, and in its 
 list of those who then worked more or less with us are the 
 names of Palmer, Bliss, Straub, Matthews, Murray, Case, 
 McGranahan, Gill, Blackman and Whittemore. Mr. Mat- 
 thews, F. W. Root and myself were, in turn, editors of the 
 Messenger, but all connected with us reported in it in re- 
 gard to what they were doing. 
 
 The Normal of '73 was also held in the Chicago Univer- 
 sity, with Faculty as in '72, excepting that Florence Zieg- 
 feld, the present head of the Chicago College of Music, was 
 the principal piano teacher, I^ouis Falk, organist, and Elias 
 Bogue, with F. W. Root, in voice teaching. The Normal 
 of '74 was held in the U. P. College, in Monmouth, 111. ; F. 
 W. Root, Carl Wolfsohn and myself, principals ; Bliss, Os- 
 car Mayo and Mrs. Cooley (model lessons), assistants. The 
 Normal of '75 was in Somerset, Pa. ; G. F. R., principal, C. 
 C. Case, James McGranahan, T. P. Ryder, Frank Walker. 
 C. C. Williams and myself, teachers. 
 
THE STORY OF A MXJSICAI^ LIFE. l6l 
 
 In 1864 my home in Chicago was at the corner of Wa- 
 bash avenue and Van Buren street. I sold the place in '69. 
 In '71 the fire swept it away. In '72 some fine brick stores 
 were built on the lot, one of which we occupied, but we did 
 not stay there long. When the old business center was re- 
 built we went back near to where the opera-house formerly 
 stood. In '74 a second great fire visited Chicago. If the first 
 had not been so vast, this one would have made some noise 
 in the world, for it burned many acres of houses and stores, 
 and destroyed millions of property. It reached just far 
 enough to take the building we had just left, and so the site 
 of my former home was burned over for the second time. 
 
 In '74 important changes took place. My son Charles 
 sold his interest in our publications to John Church & Co., 
 and went into other business, and the Root & Sons Music 
 Co. was formed. In '75 the firms of Root & Lewis and 
 Chandler & Curtiss joined us. John Church & Co. were 
 the principal owners of the stock of the new company, and 
 their abundant resources at once gave it standing and se- 
 curity. At the suggestion of my brother, E. T. Root, 
 Charles C. Curtiss was appointed manager. I had been 
 nominally free from business cares since the fire, but really 
 had not been without some anxiety consequent upon start- 
 ing again with so small a capital. But now our interests 
 were in safe and strong hands, and, to adapt Mr. Longfel- 
 low's famous lines to my case — the cares that had infested 
 my day, folded their tents like the Arabs and as silently 
 stole away, and I gave myself once more, with whole-hearted 
 freedom, to my professional work. 
 
 All who had been connected with us as Normal students, 
 and afterwards as teachers and authors, now looked to the 
 Cincinnati house as publishing headquarters, and in '76 the 
 Sang Messenger was merged into The Musical Visitor, which 
 from that time became our medium of communication with 
 
l62 THE STORY OP A MUSICAI, I,IFE. 
 
 the musical public. Ah, memorable '76 ! We went to the 
 great Centennial celebration in Philadelphia, and then to our 
 pleasant Normal in Towanda, Pa. ; Case, McGranahan, Ry- 
 der, CoflSn, Williams, Bliss, F. W. Root and myself, teachers. 
 We then separated for our autumn and winter work. 
 Toward the close of the year our beloved Bliss and his wife 
 went down into that valley of fire and death at Ashtabula, 
 disappearing from the earth as completely as did Elijah in 
 his flaming chariot. Not a shred or vestige of them or their 
 belongings was ever found. Mr. Bliss' unselfish devotion to 
 his work made for him such friends while he lived and such 
 mourners when he died as few men have ever had. It was 
 also in '76, at Christmas time, in Delaware, O., that the Na- 
 tional Music Teachers' Association held its first session. I 
 was glad to aid at the beginning of that important enterprise, 
 but have not participated since, as the subsequent meetings 
 have been in the summer when Normal or something else 
 demanded my attention. 
 
 Normal had now settled down into four weeks' sessions, 
 beginning always on the first Monday after the Fourth of 
 July. In '77 it was held in Warren, O. ; in '78 in Richmond, 
 Ind. ; in '79 and '80 in Jamestown, on Chautauqua I^ake, 
 New York ; in '81, Erie, Pa.; in '82, Kittanning, Pa., and a 
 short term in Brookville, Pa.; in '83 in Erie again, and a 
 short session in Eau Claire, Wis., and in '85 in Elmira, N. Y. 
 
 This Institution usually goes to a town because some 
 musical person in it, in whom the people have confidence, 
 represents its advantages to prominent citizens who bring 
 about the necessary ofier of buildings and the guarantee of 
 a certain number of scholarships. All other things being 
 equal, the coolest towns have the preference. We delight 
 in being by I^ake Michigan, or Erie, or lovely Chautauqua, 
 though Kittanning and Brookville, Pa., and Eau Cldre, 
 Wis., were on pleasant rivers, which answered a good pur- 
 
THB STORY OF A MUSICAI, I<IFE. 1 63 
 
 pose. Elmira, N. Y., could not offer mucli in the way of a 
 river, but she could give us the most beautiful and conven- 
 ient place for our work that we have ever had. 
 
 Picture to yourself a long stone structure on one side of 
 a small park, with great trees in front and almost bending 
 over it. At one end a large auditorium with a fine organ ; 
 in the center a Sunday-school room below, and a lecture and 
 entertainment room above, each capable of seating four hun- 
 dred persons, and at the other end the " church home," con- 
 sisting of parlors, library, some lodging rooms, and all the 
 conveniences of a well-ordered house, all connected and un- 
 der one roof, and you have Park Church, the home of the 
 Normal of '85. It must have been more than thirty years 
 ago that Thomas K. Beecher, nearly the youngest member 
 of that celebrated family, was settled over that society in 
 Elmira. He gradually got his people to look to the day 
 when a building should be reared which should contain 
 not only a suitable audience room for Sunday worship, but 
 rooms and conveniences for the enjoyment of the young 
 people, and a home for the poor wayfarer who might need 
 temporary shelter fVom poverty or evil influences. This 
 was done, but not until all the money was raised or pledged 
 to pay for it — one hundred and thirty-two thousand dollars. 
 Mr. Beecher had constantly urged that there be no debt to 
 be a drag upon them when their magnificent plan went into 
 operation. 
 
 It was characteristic of pastor and people to say, as they 
 did to us: "Your work is calculated to improve and help 
 people. That is what this building is for. Use it during 
 our church vacation. The whole of it is freely placed at 
 your disposal." It was a delightful session — the perfection 
 of the building for the various exercises of the class, the 
 interest of the people as shown in the attendance upon re- 
 citals and concerts, and the assurance of a welcome if we 
 
164 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFB. 
 
 would return, no one who was there will ever forget. We 
 should have returned the next summer, but I went to Eng- 
 land, of which visit I will speak later. 
 
 The general scope and work of the Institution may be 
 seen in the subjoined daily program of one of the above 
 named sessions : 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 Preliminary, from 8:15 to 8:55, Intermediate Harmony Class. 
 
 9:00. Opening Exercises (devotional), followed by G. F. Root's 
 specialties— Fbca/ Drill and Notation for Elementary Singing 
 Classes. 
 
 10:10. Recess. 
 
 10:20. Voice Culture in Class, Frederic W. Root. 
 
 11:05. Recess. 
 
 11:15. Harmony and Composition — in two classes. Elementary, 
 G. F. Root; Advanced, F. W. Root. 
 
 AFTERNOON. 
 
 2:00. Clubs for the practice of conducting and of giving class 
 lessons, called, respectively, the " Conducting Club " and the 
 " Teachers' Club.'' Each member acts as conductor or teacher in 
 turn, and is criticised at the close of his work. 
 
 3:00. Sight Reading and Drill in Anthems, Glees and Part- 
 Songs. 
 
 3:50. Recess. 
 
 4:00. Monday and Wednesday, Emil Liebling's Pianoforte Re- 
 citals. Tuesday and Thursday, Vocal Recitals, bringing out the 
 Soloists and Members of the Institute in individual performances. 
 
 4:45. Close. 
 
 EVENING. 
 
 7:45. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday evenings. 
 Chorus and Oratorio practice, Cari, Zerrahn, conductor. Con- 
 certs every Friday evening, closing with " The Messiah " on the 
 31st. 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFB. 
 
 165 
 
 PROGRAMS OF PIANOFORTE RECITALS. 
 
 First Recital. 
 Monday, Jtjly 6th, at 4 p. m. 
 
 Andante, Op. 32 Tkalberg 
 
 \a. Solitude . ..... .Hoffman 
 
 \b. Cricket Polka . , L. De Meyer 
 
 Barcarolle Rubinstein 
 
 Fantasie " X^ucrezia Borgia " 
 
 Bendel 
 Second Recital. 
 Wednesday, July 8th, at 4 p. m. 
 
 Gavotte, B minor Bach 
 
 Andante, A major .... Mozart 
 Perpetuum Mobile .... Weber 
 Meuuet, A-flat . . . Boccherini 
 Albumblatt, % minor . . Grieg 
 The Two Skylarks . Leschetitzky 
 
 Feu FoUet Lieblin^ 
 
 Nocturne, Op. 17 .... Brassin 
 Polonaise Sckarwenka 
 
 Third Recital. 
 Monday, July 13TH, at 4 p, m. 
 Recollections of Home . . . Mills 
 a. Scherzino, Op. 18 . . Moszkowski 
 ' Nocturne, A major . . . Field 
 Gavotte, M minor ..... Silas 
 
 J a. Silver Spring Bendel 
 
 •' j b. La Cachoucha Raff 
 
 Fourth Recital. 
 Wednesday, July 15TH, at 4 p. m. 
 la. Sonata, G minor .... Scarlatti 
 " \b. Prelude and Fugue, D major, 
 
 Bach 
 !. Sonata Pathetique, Op, 13, Beethoven 
 '' ~ Soiree de Vienne, No. 7 . . Liszt 
 Nocturne, Op 9, No. 2 . . Chopin 
 Gavotte Moderne . . Liebhng 
 
 3- *: 
 
 (c. 
 
 ■I! 
 
 ■{I 
 
 Fifth Recital. 
 Monday, July 20TS, at 4 p. m. 
 Rondo Capriccioso, Op. 14, 
 
 Mendelssohn 
 (a. Albumblatt . . , Liebling 
 
 \b. Le Tourbillon Goldbeck 
 
 (a. Valse Caprice, Op. 29 . . . Mills 
 
 < b. Melody in F Rubinstein 
 
 (,c. Polka Fantastique Srandeis 
 
 Sixth Recital.— Historical Program. 
 
 Wednesday, July 22D, at 4 p. m. 
 
 'a. Sonata, A major, Scarlatti^ 1683- 
 1757- 
 
 b. Prelude and Fugue, C minor, 
 Bach, 1685-1750. 
 
 c. Variations, E major, Haendel, 
 1684-1759. 
 
 d. Turkish March, Mozart, 1756- 
 1791- 
 
 i. Moonlight Sonata, Beethoven, 1770- 
 1827. 
 
 a. Rondo Brillante, IVeber, 1786- 
 1826. 
 
 b. Menuet, Schubert, 1797-1828. 
 3. \ c. Songs Without Words, Mendels- 
 sohn, 1809^1847. 
 
 d, Fnde vom Lied, Schumann, 1810- 
 
 1856. _ 
 a. Marche Fun^bre, Chopin, 1809- 
 
 1849. 
 *. I,a Fileuse^ Raff, 1822. 
 
 c. Kammenoi-Ostrow, . Rubinstein, 
 1830. 
 
 ,d. Polonaise, E major, Liszt, iSii. 
 
 Seventh Recital. 
 Monday, July 27TH, at 4 p. m. 
 
 I a. Impromptu, Op. 29, 
 h. Etude, Op. 10, No. 3, 
 c. Mazurka, Op. 33, No. 4, 
 d. Valse, Op. 34, No. i, . 
 a. Nocturne, Op. 37, No. 2, I Chopin 
 b. Scherzo, Op. 31, 
 \a. Berceuse. Op. 57, 
 ^" \b. Polonaise, Op. 53, 
 
 Eighth Recital. 
 Wednesday, July 29TH, at 4 p. m. 
 
 I. G minor Fugue Bach-Liszt 
 
 ^a. Flashes from the West, Goldbeck 
 b. Silver Spring Mason 
 c. Hungarian Melody .... Liszt 
 J a. Romanza, Op. 5 . . Tschaikowsky 
 ^' \b. Marche H^roique . . Saint- Saens 
 
 In looking over the list of Musical Associations that I 
 have conducted since the fire, I find it too long even to 
 mention. As I glance at the list, however, my eye catches 
 the line: "Centennial celebration of the settlement of Shef- 
 field, Mass., June 19, '76." This is my native town, and 
 
1 66 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIKB. 
 
 the musical exercises there were of peculiar interest to the 
 people who knew my parents, and to myself on their ac- 
 count. I was a small boy when we moved to North Read- 
 ing, but I remembered well the beautiful Berkshire moun- 
 tains that looked so near and were so far, the lovely Housa- 
 tonic which flows through the valley, and the wide street 
 and magnificent elms of the dear old village which I am 
 proud to claim as my birthplace. Among the kinfolk that 
 welcomed me on this occasion was Dr. Orville Dewey, one 
 of America's eminent divines, who was there also at his 
 birthplace. That brings to my mind that Dr. Dewey and 
 Wm. CuUen Bryant, who was also a native of Berkshire 
 County, were both school-mates of my father, and a few 
 years before, while I was engaged in some musical work in 
 Great Barrington (the next town), Mr. Bryant was there, 
 and I had the pleasure of a few kind words from him in 
 remembrance of his old school-fellow. 
 
 As I look along the list, the word "grasshoppers" 
 catches my eye and brings to mind a wagon ride from a 
 convention in Clarinda, la., to another at College Springs, 
 fifteen miles distant, and a description that the driver gave 
 me of the ravages of those terrible pests. During the con- 
 vention I was introduced to one of the large farmers who 
 had sufiered by them, and was greatly interested in his 
 graphic description of what had befallen him : " We had had 
 two years of light crops," he began, " and I needed some 
 good wheat and a lot of it the worst way, so I put in six 
 hundred acres, and you never saw anything so fine as that 
 was when it was about half grown. I was happy ! That 
 crop was going to fix me all right. Well, I drove in here 
 to church one Sunday morning — I live about four mUes out 
 — and when I got back there wasn't a spear of my wheat 
 standing ; the ground where it stood was as black as if it had 
 been burnt over, and the 'hoppers had traveled on." " But 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 1 67 
 
 you lived through it," I said. " Oh, yes," he answered, " I'm 
 all right now." 
 
 In '81 Mr. E. V. Church, Mr. John Church's nephew, 
 took the management of the business, Mr. Curtiss having 
 left for a trip to Europe. Mr. I^ewis had already made 
 other business arrangements, and now my brother, E. T., 
 sold his stock in the company to go into business with his 
 sons. The arrangements thus described remain to the pres- 
 ent time, with the exception that John Church & Co. be- 
 came tired of the inconvenience of occupying stores owned 
 by other people, and bought the white marble building at 
 the corner of Wabash avenue and Adams street, which fine 
 premises we occupy now. 
 
 My books, after the fire and up to my second trip abroad 
 in '86, were: " The New Curriculum," "The Glory," "The 
 Hour of Praise," " The Guide to the Pianoforte," " The 
 Cabinet Organ Companion," " The Normal Musical Hand- 
 Book," " The New Song Era " (with my son F. W.), "The 
 Choir and Congregation," " The Mannerchor," " The Trum- 
 pet of Reform," " The Model Organ Method," " The Palace 
 of Song," " The Realm of Song," " The Chorus Castle," 
 "The Teachers' Club," "The Organist at Home," "First 
 Years in Song Land," "Our Song World " (with C. C. Case), 
 " Pure Delight " and " Wondrous I/Ove " (also with Mr. Case), 
 and the following cantatas : In the first one, " The Song 
 Tournament," I was assisted in preparing the libretto by 
 Palmer Hartsough, one of our Normals, who has great inge- 
 nuity in adapting words to music, and then I made the valued 
 acquaintance of Hezekiah Butterworth, of Boston, the well- 
 known author and poet, who prepared the librettos to 
 " Under the Palms," " Catching Kriss Kringle," " David, the 
 Shepherd Boy," "The Name Inefiable," "The Choicest 
 Gift," and " Faith Triumphant."' Then followed " Flower 
 Praise " and " Santa Claus' Mistake," with librettos by my 
 
1 68 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFE. 
 
 daughter, Clara I<ouise Burnham. Of the Sunday-school 
 and Gospel songs, not before mentioned, the following are 
 best known : " Why do you wait, dear brother? " "Jewels," 
 " Ring the bells of heaven," " Knocking, knocking, who is 
 there?' "Along the river of time," "Where are the reap- 
 ers?" "We are watching, we are waiting," "The beacon 
 light," " Because He loved me so," " Altogether lovely," 
 " Never give up the right way," and " Behold, the Bride- 
 groom Cometh." 
 
 " Under the Palms " was the first cantata to unite adults 
 and children (the choir and Sunday-school) in a connected 
 performance, and its success was immediate. Not long 
 after its publication in 1880 I received a letter from the . 
 London Sunday-school Union, saying that they had issued 
 that work, and that it was being extensively sung through- 
 out the kingdom. The letter enclosed a gratuity in the 
 shape of an English bank-note, and further said if I would 
 write them another cantata of the same kind they would pay 
 a tegular royalty on it. " Tlie Choicest Gift " was the re- 
 sult of that request, but in the meantime the firm of John 
 Curwen & Sons (consisting now only of the sons, the father 
 being dead) wrote me that I should soon receive an English 
 copy of " David, the Shepherd Boy,"and that they proposed 
 to pay a voluntary royalty on all copies of it that they sold. 
 This was a purely friendly and generous act on their part, 
 as all American compositions were as free to them as theirs 
 are to us. They issued it in both notations, and an excel- 
 lent English musician added a harmonium accompaniment, 
 which is printed in a separate book. They also had it ar- 
 ranged for a large orchestra. 
 
 About this time I received a letter from Messrs. Bailey 
 & Ferguson, of Glasgow, Scotland, to know if I would write 
 a cantata for them. My publishers soon arranged the mat- 
 ter, and " Faith Triumphant " was the result. An arrange- 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< LIFE. 1 69 
 
 ment was made to furnish the Glasgow house a set of plates 
 by duplicating them as the book went through the press in 
 Cincinnati. 
 
 I had long desired to go to England once more, and it 
 now occurred to me that it would be pleasant to get to Glas- 
 gow soon after my cantata, and perhaps do something in the 
 way of helping it start in Scotland. So when I found my 
 publishers thought it a good plan I decided to go. After I 
 had secured my passage I received a third letter from the 
 lyondon Sunday-school Union about a third cantata for 
 them, to which I replied that I would call in a few days and 
 talk it over. 
 
I/O THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, WFE. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ON BOARD THE STEAMSHIP ETHIOPIA — GLASGOW — FIRST SUN- 
 DAY IN LONDON — ST. MARTIN'S-IN-THE-FIELDS — INTER- 
 LUDES — THE LONDON SUNDAY-SCHOOL UNION — THE CUR- 
 WENS — VOLUNTARY ROYALTIES — HERNE HOUSE — MR. 
 EVANS AND THE LONDON PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 
 
 ON July 17, 1886, I found myself on board the steamship 
 Ethiopia, of the Anchor I^ine, bound for Glasgow, Scot- 
 land. 
 
 It is interesting to observe the change that comes over 
 some people at the beginning of a sea-voyage, as the billows, 
 which at first seem to them so grand or so graceful, gradu- 
 ally become objects of utter aversion and disgust — ^but I will 
 not enlarge. It is sufficient to say that in our case on the 
 fourth day out two-thirds of the sick ones were back to their 
 rations, and we had an excellent voyage. 
 
 We had a good deal of music as we steamed along, there 
 being there a piano and organ, and Several good players and 
 singers among the passengers. One evening the program 
 was varied by a mock trial. A nice old gentleman of decid- 
 edly patriarchal appearance, who had paid a good deal of 
 attention to* the ladies, " without distinction of age or pre- 
 vious condition of servitude," as the indictment read, was 
 accused of being a Mormon elder, seeking proselytes. Being 
 conducted in good taste by real lawyers, the trial afforded 
 much entertainment. The jury was composed entirely of 
 ladies, who rendered a unanimous verdict in the prisoner's 
 favor. 
 
 Sunday divine service was conducted by a clergyman 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFE. 171 
 
 from Toronto. There is an opening from the main cabin to 
 the room above called the music-room, in which is an excel- 
 lent organ and a good piano. The choir, composed of a few 
 of the best singers among the passengers, was up there, and 
 the eflFect was good, the only trouble being that the player 
 had to be guarded lest the rolling of the ship should send 
 him off his seat. I 
 
 On Sunday evening at twilight the organist began play- 
 ing quietly some of the older tunes, gradually coming nearer 
 those of modern times. The passengers gathered round, and 
 when he got to " Nearer, my God, to Thee " and " The Shin- 
 ing Shore," began to join in. This led to one of the most 
 genuine Sunday night sings that I have ever heard. One 
 after another called for his or her favorite, until about all the 
 well-known tunes and gospel songs had been sung. The 
 roar of the winds and dash of the waves outside mingling 
 with our music would have perhaps carried our thoughts 
 back to the Pilgrims' " Songs on the Sea," but for the beat 
 of the engine and the knowledge that the Pilgrim fathers 
 would not have given our gospel songs a place in their stem 
 devotions. 
 
 The last day of our voyage. All day along the northern 
 coast of Ireland. " Emerald " is the word, as we look on the 
 beautiful fields and hills, and here comes the Giant's Cause- 
 way. " Don't you see the giant? " says an old sailor. "No," 
 I answer. " Why, there, leaning his arm on the rock, so, 
 and his feet down in the water." I couldn't see him, but all 
 could see the wonderful pillar-like structure stretching along 
 for miles like gigantic organ pipes. 
 
 And now up the Clyde. Fields, lawns, forests, hills, towns, 
 country seats, castles, and then ship-yards as we near Glas- 
 gow, where the great iron steamers and ships of the world 
 are made. Such a clang and clatter as the thousands of ham- 
 mers rang out upon the iron ribs and plates as we passed ! 
 
172 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< I,IFB. 
 
 Glasgow at last. To the hotel and then to Messrs. 
 Bayley & Ferguson's to see if the plates of the new can- 
 tata had come. As they had not yet arrived I went back to 
 the hotel and waited until Mr. Bayley sheuld have leisure to 
 show me about the town. 
 
 Glasgow is emphatically a stone city. Not a wooden 
 structure in it, and I think Mr. Bayley said there was none of 
 brick — at any rate, I saw none. I was not prepared to find 
 Glasgow the second city in the empire, but so it is. 
 
 We went at evening to a park just out of the city, to 
 hear a band play — a beautiful place of hills and valleys, fine 
 trees and flowers. "Here," said Mr. Bayley, "where the 
 band are now playing, was fought the battle that lost Queen 
 Mary her kingdom. She watched it from the hill over there 
 (a half mile or so ofi'), and whan she saw the day was against 
 her, fled, and was never again seen in Scotland." 
 
 Many such things of historic interest came up, but I will 
 not inflict guide-book talk upon my readers. It is sufficient 
 to say that I passed a memorable and most pleasant day with 
 our Glasgow publisher — a long one, too, light as day at nine 
 o'clock at night, with twilight until ten or after. 
 
 As the plates of the cantata were delayed I did not wait, 
 but took the " Midland " to London the next day. Tremen- 
 dous speed, but so smooth that one could read or write with- 
 out difficulty. I fell into conversation with an intense Eng- 
 lishman, who had been in our country, and who was loud in 
 his preference for everything English. Speaking of the 
 compartment in which we were locked, he said : " Now, if 
 there is anybody on the train that I don't want to see, he 
 can't get in here." I did not answer, " If there is anybody 
 in here that I don't want to see, I can't get out," but I 
 thought it. 
 
 I enjoyed some nice children that were in the compart- 
 ment, and at one of the stations bought a basket of straw- 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, I,IPS. 1 73 
 
 berries for distribution. It was a good sized basket, and, 
 noticing that the bottom of the basket was not half way up 
 to lessen its size, I said to myself, " How much more honest 
 they are over here in these matters," but some cabbage leaves 
 at the bottom of the basket threw some doubt on the supe- 
 rior honesty of these neighbors across the water. 
 
 My first Sunday in I,ondon I attended Argyle-square 
 Church in the morning and " St. Martin's-in-the-fields " in 
 the evening. Fine organs and fine organists. Excellent 
 singers. In " St. Martin's " a surpliced choir of men and 
 boys in the chancel, and admirable music. The hymn tunes 
 ecclesiastical, but sung in quick time, so nothing heavy about 
 them. All this, to say that in the five hymns heard in the 
 morning and evening, there was not one interlude. There 
 certainly was no more need of interludes in those hymns 
 than there would have been in the chants, which were so 
 freely sung. How inspiriting they were! The glow that 
 commenced at the beginning of the hymn did not die out at 
 the end of each verse, but increased steadily to the end of 
 the song. 
 
 In this connection I may mention that I was in I^anca- 
 shire for a few days soon after my arrival in England, and on 
 the occasion of a religious gathering heard some hymns sung 
 by a congregation of perhaps six hundred people. The tunes 
 were modern English (" Barnby,'' " Smart," etc.), excellent 
 in every way, and sung heartily and well. Fine, strong voices 
 the I/ancashire people have — the high tones good and in tune. 
 But what struck me especially there, also, was that not one 
 interlude was played during the evening. I was a good deal 
 interested in the remark of a friend there, who said : "To use 
 an Americanism, interludes are ' played out ' — they are only 
 used occasionally to lengthen the hymn during a collection." 
 I am sure if our people could once hear how a hymn of five 
 or six long verses, with a good tune, can go through, not 
 
174 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFE. 
 
 only without weariness but with positive satisfaction, they 
 would not put up with the interruptions, or worse, of inter- 
 ludes. 
 
 How they hold on to old names over there ! I suppose 
 St. Martin's was in the " fields," but there isn't a field within 
 miles of it now. It is in the very heart of London. In its 
 old neighbor, Westminster Abbey, I was much attracted by 
 the new marble bust of I/ongfellow, especially as some ad- 
 mirer had placed a delicate bunch of flowers in the folds of 
 the marble, making a sort of button-hole bouquet. Its con- 
 trast to the blackened and grim surroundings was striking. 
 But to return to musical matters. 
 
 The London Sunday-school Union publish " Under the 
 Palms " and "The Choicest Gift." The week before I left 
 home I received a letter from them, saying they would like 
 another cantata of that grade; I called upon them and ar- 
 ranged for future publications. My readers doubtless know 
 that the English people have been using our American music 
 for many years. All Foster's songs, and, in fact, pretty much 
 all the music of a simple and medium grade that has been 
 popular in America, have had a corresponding popularity in 
 England. The first American cantata printed in England 
 was " The Flower Queen." Since then nearly, if not quite, 
 all our cantatas have appeared there, soon after their issue in 
 America, proving not that we are better composers than the 
 English, but that we are nearer and more in sympathy with 
 those for whom we write. I think I do not violate any 
 principle of propriety if I say that a high official in the Sun- 
 day-school Union added that the American cantatas that they 
 had published had in their music a " go " (to use his expres- 
 sion) that they did not find elsewhere. This induces the 
 Union to offer a royalty for what the.y want, although there 
 is no international copyright. 
 
 I had word from Messrs. Bay ley & Ferguson, of Glasgow, 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAI, LIFE. IJS 
 
 at this time, that the plates of " Faith Triumphant" had ar- 
 rived, and that the work would be issued promptly in the 
 standard and tonic-sol-fa notations. 
 
 Years agq, when Rev. John Curwen was commencing the 
 tonic-sol-fa enterprise he used a great deal of our American 
 singing-school music, which is free there, there being no 
 international copyright law. After he passed away his sons 
 continued publishing from American works such music as 
 suited their purpose, but since the tonic-sol-fa movement has 
 grown stronger, and its adherents have made higher attain- 
 ments, it is not the simpler music they take so much as the 
 cantatas — that is, so far as I am concerned. These, begin- 
 ning with " The Flower Queen " and ending with " Florens, 
 the Pilgrim " — fourteen in all — are printed by them in the 
 staff notation as well as in " tonic-sol-fa." 
 
 I say all this to explain why I, who neither teach nor 
 write in tonic-sol-fa, was the recipient of such unbounded 
 kindness from those friends, especially from Mr. J. Spencer 
 Curwen, the present head of the movement, at whose home 
 I stayed. The father made a substantial recognition of what 
 he was pleased to consider his obligations to us at the time 
 of the Chicago fire, as I have previously mentioned, and the 
 present firm of their own accord proposed the royalty on 
 " David, the Shepherd Boy," of which I have spoken. 
 
 Explaining thus how it happened that I was a guest at 
 "Heme house," Mr. Curwen's residence, and to some extent 
 why Mr. Curwen took so much trouble to help me to hear 
 the representative music of the English people, I will state 
 briefly what we did. Of course it was results that I sought 
 — to know how the people sang as compared with ourselves, 
 and how the reading and understanding of music compared 
 with the same things on our side, as Mr. Evans, the superin- 
 tendent of music in the public schools of lyondon (i,ioo 
 schools, 300,000 children), told me the first time I met him: 
 
176 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFE. 
 
 " I say to the teachers, take what method you please ; I shall 
 report you according to results. If they are good we have 
 no fault to find with the method." This, of course, is emi- 
 nently just. Let the teacher do his work in his own way ; 
 simply hold him responsible for results. (As a matter of 
 fact, a large majority of the lyondon schools have adopted 
 tonic-sol-fa.) 
 
 In this spirit I tried to listen to such singing as I had an 
 opportunity to hear in England. First the voices, how they 
 were used, then the words and expression, then the reading 
 and comprehension of principles (where I could ascertain 
 about the latter things). 
 
the; story of a musicai, i,ife. 177 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE WORK OF THE TONIC-SOL-PA COLLEGE — MR. BEHNKE'S 
 LIGHT TO THE THROAT — ENGLAND AND DICKENS — THE 
 BOYS OF THE MEDWAY UNION — DON — THE STAFFORDSHIRE 
 POTTERIES AND THE BURSLEM SINGERS — EPPING FOREST 
 AND THE LAWN PARTY AT FOREST GATE — REV. JOHN CUR- 
 WEN'S grave — THE CHOIR OF THE CHAPEL ROYAL — MR. J. 
 A. BIRCH AND "THE HAYMAKERS." 
 
 THE Normal term at the Tonic-sol-fa College was near 
 its close when I arrived in I/ondon. It was like being 
 at home to be there, for they have our plans for their work 
 — teaching class, voice class, harmony class, etc., but with 
 some improvements not dependent upon tonic-sol-fa nota- 
 tion which we might well adopt. The first work that I 
 heard was Mr. McNaught's — teaching the students to teach 
 children. For this purpose a class of children from a neigh- 
 boring school was brought in, and real work was done, the 
 students trying their hand at it after the model was given. 
 We have sometimes had juvenile classes at our Normals, but 
 not just in this way. Capital teacher, Mr. McNaught. Crit- 
 icisms keen and incisive, but given with such vivacity, and 
 at the same time with such evident kindliness and desire for 
 the students' welfare, that the severest comments were re- 
 ceived not only without mortification but with evident en- 
 joyment. Normal workers know well the great importance 
 of such an ability. 
 
 Next, Mr. Proudman's voice class. Admirable work. Mr. 
 Proudman will be remembered as the conductor who took 
 to Paris the English choir, which created such enthusiasm 
 
1 78 THE STORY OP A MUSICAL LIFB. 
 
 in an international competition a few years ago. There were 
 some new points in Mr. Proudman's work which seemed to 
 me very important and useful. 
 
 The harmony work by Mr. Oakey and Mr. McNaught 
 interested me much. Some exercises in the way of noting 
 harmonies as they were heard were especially good. The 
 idea and value of "ear harmony" as distinguished from 
 "eye harmony" they fully understand in this institution. 
 
 I had been much interested for two or three years in 
 reading of the investigations and researches of Mr. Emil 
 Behnke in matters pertaining to the voice, so it was with 
 much pleasure that I found he was to lecture here, and that 
 I could hear him. When I was introduced he said: "Ah! 
 I have read your articles on the voice with great pleasure. 
 They abound in good sense and valuable ideas." I had to 
 say that the articles were not written by myself, but by my 
 son, F.W. Root (but I dare say there was some pride in the 
 emphasis with which I uttergd the words " my son"). 
 
 Think of applying an electric light of thirty thousand 
 candle power to the throat to see what is going on inside ! 
 But let me repeat how he explained the experiment as well 
 as I can remember it. He began by saying: "Hold your 
 open hand close to a strong light and you can see something 
 of the light through where the fingers join together ; or hold 
 a light behind the ear and the same transparency may be 
 observed. So I thought a very powerful light might be so 
 brought to bear upon the outside of the throat that the vocal 
 cords inside would get light enough to be reflected in a mir- 
 ror, and in that way reveal their different positions for the 
 different registers of the voice. I applied to Sir Wm. Sie- 
 mens (a distinguished electrician of I,ondon) for the use of 
 apparatus to try my experiment. This was kindly granted, 
 and I arranged the light in a box with a tube to the throat 
 which concentrated and directed the light to the point to be 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAI< I,IFE. 179 
 
 investigated." Without going further into particulars, I will 
 only say his experiment was successful, and he showed pho- 
 tographs of the vocal cords in various positions caused by 
 different pitches of the voice. 
 
 They do know how to treat boys' voices in England, at 
 least the teachers whose work I have seen, do. But I ought 
 to say that Mr. Curweu, sparing no trouble nor expense, 
 arranged for me to hear the best. Our first trip was to 
 Chatham and Rochester, which practically form one town, 
 being on either side of the river Medway, about forty miles 
 from I,ondon. The first thought on arriving there was of 
 one of Mr. Pickwick's early adventures. It is surprising 
 how strong a hold Dickens' stories have upon the American 
 mind. I found I was not alone in thinking of Dickens the first 
 thing when I came across a name, or place, or scene that he 
 has mentioned or described. We might almost say that it is 
 not so much that Dickens describes England as that Eng- 
 land illustrates Dickens. There were the ruins of Rochester 
 Castle, "the lonely field near Fort Pitt" where Mr. Winkle 
 and Lieut. Tappleton met for the duel which did not take 
 place, and the bridge where " dismal Jemmy " so excited Mr. 
 Pickwick's sympathies in the early morning. We saw them 
 all, though the gentleman who pointed them out knew little 
 or nothing of Dickens. 
 
 But to continue my subject : — We went to see and hear 
 the boys of the " Medway Union." You would hardly sup- 
 pose that that means a work-house, but such is the fact. It 
 is a large establishment, with people of all ages in it. The 
 children are, of course, of the lowest grade, many of them 
 the veriest waifs of community, but they have excellent 
 school privileges, and the head master, Mr. James A. Price, 
 fortunately for them, not only loves music, but understands 
 it and knows how to teach it as very few professional teachers 
 do. Indeed, to his rare skill the extraordinary results that 
 
i8o the; story of a musical i<ife. 
 
 we listened to are due. What did it matter how they ex- 
 pressed or noted what they sang? It was, in point of fact, 
 a tonic-sol-fa choir, but I did not think about that at all at 
 first. It was the singing that struck me and delighted me 
 as no boys' singing up to that time had ever done. There 
 were about forty of the little fellows in the choir, canying 
 three well-balanced parts — the sopranos beautifully sweet 
 and clear, and the altos of admirable quality — not a harsh 
 voice in the whole number, nor one chest-tone forced be- 
 yond its proper place. They sang without accompaniment, 
 but there was no flatting nor singing out of tune in any way. 
 
 They sang one or two songs of German origin, if I re- 
 member rightly, at first, and then four or five of mine. It 
 is the same everywhere here. Wherever the tonic-sol-faists 
 have worked, American music has found a use and a home. 
 Mine would naturally be sung where I went, as a compli- 
 mentary attention. 
 
 After the singing Mr. Price had a few of the boys play 
 violins and violas while he played the 'cello, and after that a 
 large drum and fife corps, also composed of the choir boys, 
 performed admirably; only, as it was damp weather, the 
 performance was in a room and the din almost deafening. I 
 must not omit to mention a very prominent member of this 
 happy company — for happy it is, as the beaming faces of the 
 little fellows abundantly testify. This individual is " Don," 
 a monstrous dog of the St. Bernard persuasion. Wherever 
 the boys are, there is Don. Whenever they assemble for 
 singing he brings up the rear and stretches his huge bulk in 
 the aisle as near to them as he can get. During the stun- 
 ning fife and drum performance, which would have set wild 
 any other dog I ever knew, Don walked around among the 
 instruments and players, placidly waving his great plume of 
 a tail, the picture of contentment and benevolence. And 
 after the music, out in the paved court where some little 
 
THS STORY OP A MUSICAI, I,I?B. l8l 
 
 boys were at play, I shall never forget the affection mani- 
 fested on both sides — how the little chaps clung to the great 
 fellow, and how he seemed to feel the care of the entire group. 
 
 It will be a great pleasure always to call to mind the 
 friends and events of that day : Mr. and Mrs. Price, and her 
 mother (who has been the matron of the institution for many 
 years), and the assistant teachers, and their noble work. 
 The difference for good that in all probability they will have 
 caused in the lives of those children can not be estimated by 
 any earthly standard. 
 
 I now come to another most interesting event connected 
 with my English visit. It was a journey to Burslem, in Staf- 
 fordshire, by the kind arrangement of Mr. Curwen, and, as 
 his guest, to hear one of the most celebrated choirs in the 
 kingdom. Staffordshire is the great pottery county of Eng- 
 land. It was in Burslem that Wedgewood lived and died. 
 Wedgewood Hall, a beautiful building, is there erected to his 
 memory, in which are wonders of the art which has made 
 his name celebrated the world over. The choir is composed 
 almost entirely of men, women and children who work in 
 the potteries or are connected with that industry. On the 
 way Mr. Curwen said : " I do not know whether there is 
 something especially favorable to singing in their occupa- 
 tion, but it is certain that they have exceptionally good 
 voices." 
 
 We were met at the station by Mr. Thomas Hulme, a 
 prominent citizen and former mayor of the city, who took 
 us to his fine residence on a commanding eminence in the 
 suburbs. From there we went at seven to the Town Hall, 
 where the performance was to take place. The hall which 
 would hold a thousand or more people was packed on our 
 arrival. On either side and in front of a good-sized organ 
 were raised seats for the choir, already there, one hundred 
 and seventy strong. The fact that this choir had sung my 
 
1 82 THK STORY OP A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 music a good deal in former years, and that the papers had 
 announced our coming — Mr. Curwen's and mine — in a very 
 kind and appreciative way, caused a hearty greeting on the 
 part of both choir and audience as we entered. 
 
 I ought to say that this was a kind of public rehearsal of 
 music to be performed at a competition of choral societies 
 (they call them "choirs " in England) to take place at Liver- 
 pool the following week. The great competition piece was 
 a double chorus by Bach, called " Be not afraid " — twenty- 
 seven pages long in the Novello edition, and taking exactly 
 ten minutes in performance. When I say that it is in eight 
 parts, filled with the peculiar intricacies and difiiculties of 
 this great composer's music, and that it was sung magnifi- 
 cently without notes and without accompaniment, I think my 
 readers will agree with me that it was a remarkable perform- 
 ance, well worth a long journey to hear. Mr. Curwen's re- 
 mark about the voices was fully justified. They were not 
 only beautiful in quality but of great power. Indeed, when 
 the chorus began, the burst was so grand that I could hardly 
 realize that only one-half the choir were singing. , 
 
 There were other highly interesting performances during 
 the evening, among which was a part-song by Pinsuti, most 
 delicately sung ; but I will not further particularize ; yes, I 
 must mention a test that Mr. Curwen, by request, gave to 
 show the musical knowledge of the younger members of the 
 choir. Two blackboards were brought on to the platform 
 and two children called up to write what Mr. Docksey, the 
 conductor, sang, he using the syllable la. The music in two 
 parts had been prepared by Mr. Curwen before entering the 
 hall, and was, of course, entirely unknown to the choir. The 
 work was promptly and correctly done in the tonic-sol-fa 
 notation, and then six other children — three on a part — were 
 called up to sing what had been written, which was easily 
 and wdl done, much to the delight of the audience. I pre- 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAL WFE. 183 
 
 sume they could have used the staff notation, but this was 
 shorter. 
 
 I shall not soon forget the Burslem choir and its able 
 conductor, and the pleasure that evening gave me. 
 
 Who has not read of that bold outlaw, Robin Hood, and 
 his adventures in Epping Forest, then far away from I^on- 
 don, but now near by ? The forest did not go to I^ondon, 
 but I^ondon came to the forest, the eight or nine miles out 
 to " Forest Gate," where Mr. Curwen lives, being now a 
 continuous city, a most pleasant and safe ride, the railway 
 going sometimes over the streets and houses and other rail- 
 ways, sometimes under them, but never on their level. No 
 " crossings," with flagmen whose best efforts can not prevent 
 accidents, and no delays — everything like clock-work; a 
 consummation devoutly to be wished for on our side of the 
 water. 
 
 But I started to tell about a party — a lawn party on the 
 borders of Epping Forest. An English lawn is something 
 to see — the thick, soft grass, so level and green, is like cut 
 velvet, and for bowls, ten-pins, croquet, and other outdoor 
 games as good as a floor. The lawn at Mr. Curwen's place 
 is of this kind, and is rendered more picturesque by being 
 thickly bordered on the sides by fine trees, some old enough, 
 perhaps, to have sheltered the bold outlaw and his merry 
 men. Here the students of the sol-fa college, with the 
 teachers and their ladies, assembled one lovely afternoon 
 near the close of their term. 
 
 Right here let me say that if any one has an impression 
 that these tonic-sol-fa people and their accomplished teach- 
 ers do not know the staff notation, they are wonderfully 
 mistaken. I only wish our people knew it as well. Why, 
 the Curwen house prints everything it issues in the staff 
 notation as well as in tonic-sol-fa. It is a curious fact that 
 at first the other houses, Novello's, for instance, printed no 
 
184 THS STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 tonic-sol-fa and the Curwens printed no staff. Now the 
 Curwens print staff and Novello a great deal of tonic-sol-fa 
 music. I am quite sure I am right in saying that all sol-fa- 
 ists look forward to a knowledge of the staff notation as their 
 crowning acquirement. 
 
 Somehow or other the impression has been extensively 
 created in America that " Sol-fa" was to sweep all other no- 
 tations out of existence. I don't know who did it — Mr. 
 Seward says he didn't ; but I do know that that is not the 
 way the matter is regarded in England, and it is much to be 
 regretted that there should be any misunderstanding about 
 it, for the usefulness of the work as done there can not be 
 denied, and the teaching that has grown with it that may be 
 applied to the staff notation is of a very superior order. 
 
 The afternoon was delightful; groups playing games, 
 others chatting, two long tables decked with flowers, near 
 the trees, for supper, or, I should say, tea. They do nothing 
 there without a cup of tea^ At almost any kind of meeting 
 having at all the social element in it the first thing is a cup 
 of tea — a discussion, a speech meeting, a singing meeting. 
 They don't seem to get on with any of them without first 
 getting inspiration from the cup which " cheers," etc. I do 
 not wonder, though, that it is so popular a beverage there. 
 It is quite another thing from the article we know as tea. 
 " Tea meetings " would never thrive on the kind we gener- 
 ally get on our side of the water. 
 
 After tea a photographer appeared on the scene and 
 placed the assembled company in a group, with the fine old 
 "ivy-mantled" hoiise for a background. "Come, doctor," 
 they called. I was talking with some one a little way off. 
 "You don't want me," I answered ; "I'm not in the charmed 
 circle." " But your music is, and we must have you." So 
 there I am, in the excellent picture then taken. 
 
 I had the pleasure of meeting here Mr. Spedding Curwen, 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAL, I<IFE. 1 85 
 
 the other member of the firm of J. Curwen & Sons, and 
 its business manager, whose fine residence is not far away. 
 Nothing could be more complete than the combination of 
 these two men for the success of their important business 
 enterprises; nor more delightful than the intercourse of their 
 two families for the enjoyment of their home life. 
 
 After the picture, singing. There were too few lady 
 students to have a mixed choir, but the men's choir, under 
 the leadership of Mr. McNaught, was admirable. Mr. Proud- 
 man's voice work showed its rare excellence, especially in 
 the upper tenors. Their tones were of beautiful quahty, 
 easily produced and true to pitch. Then Mr. Kestin, the 
 teacher of elocution, gave some recitations. I wish some of 
 our howling ranters could have heard him. The quiet sin- 
 cerity with which he made every character his own, made 
 me think of the answer a country friend once gave when 
 asked how he liked Jefierson's acting in " Rip Van Winkle." 
 " Why, I didn't see any acting. I saw a shif 'less Dutchman 
 that got druv off into the mountains, but he was such a good- 
 natur'd feller I liked him fust rate." So Mr. Kestin was for 
 the time whatever he assumed to be, carrying us all with him, 
 in the same way. The drawing-room being on a level with 
 the lawn, with windows opening out upon it, all could enjoy 
 the solos — instrumental and vocal — with which the afternoon 
 closed. 
 
 In connection with the romantic interest I felt in Epping 
 Forest, a deep impression was made upon my mind about 
 this time by a visit to Rev. John Curwen's grave. It is 
 nearer what was the forest center, in a spot selected, I think 
 his son said, by himself A fine shaft bears an appropriate 
 inscription, but his great monument is the reverence in 
 which his memory is held by hundreds of thousands who 
 have been the better for his modest and unselfish work. 
 
 My kind host knowing my desire to hear the represent*- 
 
l86 THE STORY OF A MUSICAi; WFE. 
 
 tive music of Engkrfd as far as possible, suggested, on a Sun- 
 day soon after, that we go to the Chapel Royal, St. James 
 Palace, the worshiping place of royalty and nobility when 
 in I^ondon. Arriving in due time we were ushered by a 
 solemn functionary — I forget his title — into some seats that 
 we might occupy. It is a small chapel, long and narrow, but 
 rich and elaborate in decorations, particularly the part devot- 
 ed to the royal family — but I won't go into guide-book talk. 
 The first curious thing was the dress of the choir boys before 
 they donned their white surplices (we saw them about the 
 corridors of the palace). It was of red and gold, very elab- 
 orate and costly, more military than religious-looking, but a 
 distinguishing uniform that they must wear all the time. 
 But the little fellows can sing ! Nothing but the severest of 
 the English ecclesiastical music allowed — extremely difficult 
 in all respects, and I should say only made tolerable to un- 
 trained ears by the beauty of the voices and the ease with 
 which all difficulties were overcome. The alto was sung 
 by men. We were invited to dinner by Mr. J. A. Birch, an 
 acquaintance of Mr. Curwen, whose speaking voice indicates 
 a fine, resonant base, but who is one of the altos, not only of 
 this choir but of that of St. Paul's Cathedral, the services 
 being at different hours. I need not say that these positions 
 mean exceptional gifts and attainments on the part of those 
 who hold them. The men of this particular choir are called 
 "gentlemen of the chapel royal." Mr. Birch is a highly 
 successful conductor and teacher in lyondon, and gratified 
 me much by his hearty greeting. In the course of conver- 
 sation he said : " I have given your cantatas a great deal for 
 many years ; indeed, one of them has been more remunerative 
 than any other work of the kind that I have ever had to do 
 with — I mean ' The Haymakers.' I have given it seventeen 
 times." 
 
 On coming out of service we were just in time to see the 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, I,IPE. 1 87 
 
 change of the Queen's guard in the court-yard of the palace, 
 and to hear two numbers from one of the two best bands in 
 the kingdom. A Thomas orchestra performance was the 
 only tiling I could liken it to for finish and elegance. 
 
1 88 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL I<IFE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE PARISH CHURCH — TRADITIONAL CHANTING — THE "SWAN- 
 LEV BOYS " — THE HALL OF PARLIAMENT — A RECEPTION ON 
 MR. CURWEN'S lawn — FORTY CONDUCTORS — THE BRITISH 
 MUSEUM — A MUSICAL CATALOGUE — ONE OF THE LONDON 
 " CHOIRS " — THE SOUTH LONDON CHORAL INSTITUTE — DR. 
 ALLON'S CHURCH AT ISLINGTON — MY SIXTY-SIXTH BIRTH- 
 DAY — THE CRYSTAL PALACE AND "AUTUMN WINDS" — THE 
 CONCERT ON THE "CITY OF ROME." 
 
 GOING to " church " in England means but one thing — 
 the Church of England. Going to other religious 
 gatherings is called going to " chapel," or something of that 
 kind. One Sunday morning my kind host said, " I^et us go 
 to the parish church to-day ; the music will interest you." 
 It was a walk of perhaps a mile and a half from Forest Gate, 
 but when we got there it was indeed the parish church of 
 old England as immortalized in descriptions innumerable: 
 low, gothic, massive, ivy-clad, the old, gray tower rising 
 like the chief monument of the church-yard in which it is 
 placed. Groups of grown people and children, wending 
 their way among the grave-stones, realized in every particu- 
 lar the picture so familiar to us all of this peculiarly English 
 scene. 
 
 We entered at a side door, stepping • upon the uneven 
 stone floQr that had been worn by the footsteps of many 
 generations. The surpliced organist, in full sight, had just 
 commenced his voluntary. Soon the ministers and choir 
 of surpliced men and boys filed in, and service commenced. 
 I will not go into particulars, but would simply speak of the 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 1 89 
 
 excellent choir-singing there, as I have had occasion to do 
 of all the surpliced choirs I heard while in England, and of 
 the fine tunes and hearty singing of the congregation, in all 
 the hymns. I did not hear one by choir alone, and not an 
 interlude during the entire time. 
 
 I think my readers will bear witness that I have not 
 sought the adverse side in my descriptions, but I must say 
 that chanting there, judged by every consideration excepting 
 tradition, is poor — more than that, it is to me irreverent. I 
 will not judge others, but how any one who thinks the 
 words of the Bible should be read or intoned deliberately, 
 can be devotionally impressed by the unseemly haste and 
 inevitable confusion that this mode of chanting compels, I 
 do not understand. And it is passing strange, that while 
 the " chapels," and dissenters generally, who. have broken 
 off from the Church of England, repudiate mostly the modes 
 of that church, they stick to this race-horse chanting — that 
 is, so far as I have heard them. The power of tradition is 
 astonishing. It still holds sway over the Episcopal churches 
 of our country, but we have reason to be thankful that Dr. 
 Lowell Mason, a half a century ago, inaugurated the better 
 mode that prevails in our other churches ; that is, the chants 
 so arranged that the words are uttered about as fast as the 
 reverent reader reads. 
 
 On the Monday following we went to the Swanley Or- 
 phan's Home, one of those noble institutions for the care and 
 training of children of which there are several about lyon- 
 don. This place is about twenty miles out, if I remember 
 rightly, delightfully situated on a breezy hill, and is re- 
 markable for its boy choir, known as the " Swanley Boys." 
 I wish you could see the photograph before me— two hun- 
 dred or more of these little fellows — taken in the Institution 
 (they teach the boys there all sorts of useful occupations) ; 
 a ruddier, happier set of little faces it would be hard to find. 
 
1 9© THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFE. 
 
 I say " remarkable for its boy choir." I ought to say, it is 
 remarkable for its excellence in everything that relates to 
 the welfare of the boys, but I will confine myself to the one 
 thing that we went especially to observe. 
 
 The whole number sang first in two parts — -just soprano 
 and alto — but such music ! I am sorry I did not take a note 
 of what was done first — I think something by Mendelssohn, 
 but what was most prominent was the Hallelujah chorus ! 
 As music, without tenor and base, it was of course lacking, 
 but as a performance showing the musical attainments of the 
 boys, and especially the masterly training of their voices, it 
 was a great success. Every time the sopranos approached 
 the high places that every conductor so much dreads, I 
 thought " now they can not keep up that perfect pitch and 
 sweetness," but they did, and when the sopranos gave the 
 high A at "And he shall reign," although on the thin vowel 
 e, I know of no better word than " angelic " to express the 
 impression made upon the minds of the visitors present. 
 
 I said to Mr. W. H. Richardson, their teacher and con- 
 ductor: "Can these be ordinary boy voices? If so, I do 
 not quite see how you get these results." " In the first 
 place," he replied, " we take all the care of their voices that 
 we can. The little fellows are not allowed to shout or talk 
 boisterously at their play or at any time, and we are con- 
 stantly on the watch to keep their tones soft and sweet, and 
 in the proper registers." " I can not think you have much 
 trouble in that way now," I continued. " We should have 
 trouble enough if we were to relax our watchfulness for even 
 a few days, I assure you," he replied. I mention this con- 
 versation to show that what seemed so easy — almost spon- 
 taneous, was really the result of hard work and constant 
 watchfulness. 
 
 After this performance came the " Swanley Boys " proper, 
 that is, the large chorus was sent away all but about forty 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< LIFB. 19^ 
 
 boys. These form the famous choir. They go about a good 
 deal giving concerts which result in considerable pecuniary 
 aid to the Institution. And now came beautiful part-songs 
 in three parts, and then some blackboard " tests." Mr. Cur- 
 wen gave some excellent examinations in tonic-sol-fa, and I 
 followed with a moderately difficult three-part exercise on 
 staffs. After they had sung it I only wished it had been 
 three times as difficult — they made no more of it than if it 
 had been the scale. It was another proof that tonic-sol-fa 
 and staff notations go hand in hand in England, whatever 
 may be thought about the matter in America. 
 
 After much kind attention from Mr. Gregory, the gov- 
 ernor of the Ijistitution, Mr. Richardson accompanied us to 
 the station, where we bade him a warm farewell, and turned 
 our faces toward the great city. 
 
 This is not the proper place to describe the great sights 
 of Ivondon, but I will say that after much difficulty I got 
 " into Parliament " — one day too late to hear Mr. Gladstone, 
 but other speakers were well worth hearing. I think all 
 strangers wander first why the hall is so small, and second, 
 why there is so little room for visitors. My good friend en- 
 lightened me on these points. He said: "You observed first 
 that the speakers used the conversational tone. [This was 
 especially observable.] That is an important factor in 
 English oratory, and they will not have a room that requires 
 shouting. Second, when exciting questions are up, they will 
 not have an audience whose size would be a moral power on 
 one side or the other, so they planned to have but few visitors 
 at a time." 
 
 I can only hope to be excused for so much of the personal 
 pronoun — first person, singular number — as will appear in 
 what remains to be related of my English visit, on the ground 
 that some of the facts, particularly those that have a bearing 
 upon an international copyright law, will be of general inter- 
 
192 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< I,IFE. 
 
 est. For the rest, I hope my readers will not be sorry to 
 learn more particularly of the attention and kindness shown 
 me across the water. 
 
 The day after my arrival in I<ondon a public reception 
 was suggested, but I preferred a less formal way of meeting 
 the musical friends, and so expressed myself to Mr. Curwen, 
 who had the matter in charge. This resulted in an invita^ 
 tion, which included the conductors in and about lyondon, 
 who desired to meet me, to a lawn or garden party at Mr. 
 Curwen's residence. Some were away for their vacation, 
 but all who were accessible came, about forty in number. 
 
 I expected to be well received in England, but the reality 
 far exceeded my expectations. All to whom I was intro- 
 duced not only greeted me as an old friend, but expressed 
 themselves in regard to my works, and their usefulness, in 
 a way that was as unexpected as it was gratifying. Particu- 
 larly was this the case on this occasion. All these gentle- 
 men had taught and conducted my music, more or less, from 
 the beginning of their work — indeed, as one said, some of 
 them "had been brought up on it" before they became 
 teachers and conductors. I did not forget, however, while 
 these gentlemen were speaking so kindly of what I had done, 
 and of what was still useful to them in their more elementary 
 work, that many of their choral societies had outgrown my 
 music and were occupied with the higher grades. An in- 
 stance of this I will speak of later. 
 
 Short interviews with the friends who had so honored 
 me was the order of the afternoon. From Mr. John Evans, 
 superintendent of music in the public schools of London, 
 and Mr. J. Westwood Tosh, his able assistant, I received 
 much interesting and valuable information concerning their 
 work ; from Mr. Robert Griffiths, secretary of the tonic-sol- 
 fa college, who remembered Dr. Mason's visit thirty-six years 
 ago, many items of interest concerning the educational move- 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAL LIFE. 193 
 
 ment that he had so much to do with, and from the Venables 
 brothers something of their work; but I leave that to an 
 account of a visit to their Institute, which took place a few 
 days later. 
 
 As the twilight drew on we adjourned to the drawing- 
 room (whose windows open like doors upon the lawn) and 
 had some music. The first number was my first song, 
 " Hazel Dell," sung by Mr. Sinclair Dunn, a graduate and 
 medalist of the Royal Academy, and a fine tenor, who sang 
 it in a way that made me think of Nilsson's singing of "Way 
 Down upon the Suwanee River." Other music, vocal and 
 instrumental, followed. The hearty applause which followed 
 a song by the writer was, he felt, simply a compliment to the 
 way an old man had preserved his voice. My pleasure was 
 greatly increased on this occasion by the presence of one of 
 my daughters who had been on the continent some months 
 with the family of a beloved nephew. She also participated 
 in the birthday surprise spoken of further on. 
 
 One day about this time Mr. Curwen said : " Come ; I 
 want to show you a list of your compositions in the British 
 Museum." We went; and through Mr. C.'s application (he is 
 a member there), and by my signing a declaration that I was 
 more than twenty-one years of age, I became a member for 
 one day, with all the rights and privileges of the grandest 
 reading-room in the world. 
 
 We went first to a row of large books, which constitute 
 the musical catalogue of the place. Taking out one with 
 " R" on the back he turned to my name. But I should first 
 say that the titles of the works (songs or larger works) on 
 these pages are mostly written, and are pasted in with spaces 
 between, that, as they come, they may be put in alphabetical 
 order. There are, I should say, from four to six entries on 
 a page. First, the full name of the author, then the entire 
 title of the work, and by whom published. What was my 
 
194 '•'^^ STORY OF A MUSICAI, I<IFB. 
 
 astonishment, on counting, as we turned the leaves, to find 
 twenty-three pages and a part of the twenty-fourth occupied 
 entirely with my compositions. I ought, perhaps, first to 
 have explained that every publisher in the kingdom is ex- 
 pected to send a copy of everything he publishes to the 
 British Museum, where it is catalogued and kept for refer- 
 ence. 
 
 " Now," said Mr. Curwen, " to show you how orderly and 
 convenient their methods are here, decide what you would 
 like to see of these works, and I will have it brought." I 
 had been much interested to observe that " Just Before the 
 Battle" was entered twelve times. It had been published 
 by six different publishers, and there were six instrumental 
 arrangements of it, so I chose an instrumental duet on that 
 melody. ("Vacant Chair" had been entered eight times; 
 "Tramp," seven, and others two, three, and four times.) 
 Mr. C. then filled out a printed form, putting on it the num- 
 bers of two seats by a table, on which he left his gloves to 
 show that the seats were taken. "Now," he said, as he 
 handed the order to an attendant, "we will go and get lunch, 
 and when we come back we shall find the book, with the 
 music you want, there." 
 
 I<et my reader see this picture: — a vast rotunda — the 
 largest reading-room in the world, with hundreds of people 
 sitting at tables, reading, studying, or copying, and scores 
 of attendants in the alcoves or galleries getting books or 
 returning them, and more than a million different works to 
 be kept in their places and selected from, and he will have 
 some idea of the perfection of the machinery necessary to 
 keep everything running smoothly in the reading-room of 
 the British Museum. 
 
 We had a fine lunch in the grand buffet of the building, 
 and when we returned there was the book. It contained the 
 duet — a good arrangement, by Brinley Richards (if I remem- 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< I,IFE. 195 
 
 ber rightly) — and several others of my compositions, enough 
 to fill it. Mr. Curwen fully believes in the justice of an 
 international copyright law, and said, before I left, "You 
 should publish a letter in some prominent paper when you 
 return to America, stating these facts, for you are undoubt- 
 edly the greatest sufiFerer among the musicians there for the 
 want of this law." ! 
 
 Mr. Curwen said I ought to hear one of the I<ondon 
 choirs (choral societies). To say that, meant, with my kind 
 host, that it should be done, if within the bounds of possi- 
 bility. I think it was planned on the afternoon of the con- 
 ductors' gathering, mentioned previously, with the brothers 
 Venables. At any rate, a short time afterward I was told 
 that, although not yet time for the gathering of the musical 
 forces for the autumn, one of the three choirs that competed 
 at the Crystal Palace the previous June, under the conduct- 
 orship of Mr. I^eonard C. Venables, would assemble to meet 
 me at the South I^ondon Choral Institute, an institution 
 owned and managed by the brothers. 
 
 At the time appointed we went. Although only going 
 from one part of I/ondon to another, we had to take two 
 trains to get there — about fifteen miles, I should judge. 
 While the choir were gathering we were shown by Mr. 
 George Venables the excellent appointments and many 
 conveniences of the building, which the brothers with in- 
 domitable energy and perseverance have partially built and 
 entirely arranged for their musical purposes. When we 
 returned to the large hall the choir, numbering perhaps a 
 hundred and fifty, were singing a lovely part-song. Then 
 came one of Mendelssohn's Psalms — the one in which the 
 solo part is taken by an alto voice. Although out of practice, 
 as the conductor said, the performance was admirable. The 
 young lady's voice was like Cary's, and her method charm- 
 ing, and the choruses were sung as only those sing who 
 
ig6 THE STORY OP A MUSICAI, WFE. 
 
 thoroughly comprehend what they are doing. The voices 
 here, as in all the tonic-sol-fa choirs that I heard in 
 England, were excellently taught — true and of beautiful 
 quality. 
 
 At the conclusion of this Psalm, Mr.Venaljles spoke at 
 length and most kindly of the individual whom they had 
 gathered to meet ; of the use his music had been to them ; 
 of their familiarity with it in their earlier work, etc. This 
 gave me my key-note. Some people can talk against time 
 — can say something interesting when they have nothing 
 particular to say. I envy them — ^it is a great gift — ^but I 
 can't do it. (This is no reflection upon Mr.Venables, who 
 had something to say, and said it well.) I could, however, 
 seize upon the idea that this fine choir had been in musical 
 conditions in which my music was just what they needed 
 and liked, and so said that I could only account for the re- 
 ception they had given me on the ground that there are 
 always pleasant memories (*onnected with what we have 
 enjoyed in earlier states, whether in social or musical life. 
 When I alluded to their having outgrown my music, cries 
 of " No ! no ! no ! " game from all parts of the room. Of 
 course that was being polite to a stranger, but I allude to it 
 to speak of two things that interested me much in English 
 audiences. One is that when their agreement with, or ap- 
 proval of, the speaker is not up to the applause point, they 
 cry " Hear ! hear ! " and the other is that when the disagree- 
 ment is of a friendly kind, or not up to the hissing point in 
 an unfriendly way, they cry " No ! no ! " There is some- 
 thing more supporting and encouraging in these approving 
 utterances than even in applause, it seems to me, probably 
 because the sound of the human voice has in it more sym- 
 pathy than that of hands or canes. I only regret that I did 
 not say on that occasion what was in my heart regarding the 
 noble enterprise which has been brought to so successful a 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 1 97 
 
 point by the Messrs. Venables ; but I was a good deal em- 
 barrassed, and my wits did not stay by me as they should 
 have done. 
 
 Then came a song from my " Pilgrim Fathers " by this 
 lovely alto voice, and the double-theme chorus, " Blessed is 
 the Nation whose God is the I/ord," by the whole choir. 
 Those interested will find the latter in " Chorus Castle," but 
 better in Mr. McPhail's " Crown of Song," where it has an 
 accompaniment written at Mr. McPhail's request. 
 
 We had so far to go that we were obliged to leave before 
 the exercises closed, but the kindness of these warm-hearted 
 friends again manifested itself by applause, which lasted until 
 we were out of sight and hearing. 
 
 One Sunday, toward the close of my stay, Mr. Curwen 
 proposed that we should go where we could hear what he 
 considered the best congregational singing in I^ondon — Dr. 
 AUon's " church," I was going to say, but I believe they call 
 it chapel — in Islington. We again had to take two trains to 
 get there. It is a large, fine church, as we should call it, 
 with organ behind the pulpit and galleries on three sides 
 converging toward the organ, without quite coming to it. 
 These galleries were filled with people, so that the two large 
 choirs which occupied the ends nearest the organ could not 
 in the least be distinguished from the rest of the audience. 
 Everybody had the same books, upstairs and down, and 
 when "Anthem twenty-four" was given out the burst was 
 so general and so full that no one could have told that a 
 choir of eighty voices or more was taking part. I should 
 not have known there was a choir at all, either by sight 
 or sound, if Mr. Curwen had not apprised me of the fact. 
 Chants, hymns (without interludes), and a still more difficult 
 anthem- were sung heartily and all well but the chants, which 
 had the traditional fault before spoken of. I think the choir 
 do nothing alone. They do not believe in "performing" to 
 the people, but in singing with them. 
 
igS the; story of a musical life. 
 
 I had a birthday while staying at Mr. Curwen's — one I 
 shall never forget. Early on that lovely August morning 
 the strains of Mendelssohn's " Morning Prayer" came up to 
 my window from the lawn below. On looking out, what 
 was my surprise to see a choir of thirty or more boys and 
 men under the leadership of one of the conductors whom I 
 had previously met, Mr. H. A. Donald. After this opening 
 piece, there followed three of my little songs. When they 
 commenced the last one I said to myself, "That's rather 
 pretty," but did not immediately recognize it as mine. It 
 never came to the front in America, and I had almost for- 
 gotten it. " Down where the harebells grow " is its title. 
 
 When I thanked them for the trouble they had taken, 
 and the honor they had done me, Mr. Donald said : " Oh, we 
 are all delighted to give you a birthday greeting — the boys, 
 especially, have been in great excitement for a week. They 
 sing your music a good deal, and you have come so far." I 
 soon saw another reason forlhe boys' enjoyment. My kind 
 friends, Mr. and Mrs. Curwen, of whose delicacy and atten- 
 tion I can not speak in adequate terms, had invited the boys, 
 and the gentlemen who accompanied them, to breakfast. A 
 caterer appeared as soon as the singing was over and set a 
 table on the lawn for the boys, the gentlemen breakfasting 
 with us in the house. The lovely grace which the boys sang 
 before they sat down, and the three cheers they gave when 
 they went away, will always ring in my memory when I 
 think of that morning. 
 
 On visiting the Crystal Palace, of whose vastness words 
 can hardly convey an adequate idea, every one is impressed 
 with the magnitude of the arrangements for chorus perform- 
 ances. The great organ in the center is named " Handel," 
 and at its sides and in front are seats in crescent form for 
 five thousand singers, with room in the center for an or- 
 chestra of five or six hundred. I forget whether it was 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAI, tlFB. igg 
 
 Mr. Proudman, Mr. McNaught, or Mr. Venables who, when 
 speaking of the different effects they had produced there, 
 told me that they once gave my "Autumn Winds " in that 
 place with forty sopranos singing the solo, and the balance 
 of the five thousand humming the accompaniment — the vast 
 audience being greatly excited over the result. 
 
 The only remaining thing to note was a concert, with 
 " readings," on the steamship City of Rome coming home. 
 It was for the benefit of some seamen's charitable associa- 
 tion, and given by such musical people and elocutionists as 
 happened to be on board. I tried to keep out of the way 
 and let the younger people do the performing, but they 
 found me out, and I had to take part. When my turn came 
 I sang " The Sea," as appropriate to the occasion. The ap- 
 plause which followed brought the chairman to his feet, who, 
 in a very kind and complimentary speech, gave a list of my 
 principal songs, beginning " way back." When he came to 
 naming and speaking of the war songs, one by one, there 
 was a manifest commotion in the thronged cabin and gang- 
 ways, and when he wound up with " Battle-Cry " and 
 "Tramp," the whole company gave three ringing cheers. 
 It turned out that there were quite a number of army people 
 among the crowd of returning Americans. After the great 
 kindness of my English friends, it was pleasant to find, after 
 all, that "a prophet" may have some "honor in his own 
 country." 
 
200 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL LIFE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 HOME AGAIN — THE "PILLAR OF FIRE" AND OTHER CANTATAS 
 — THE IDEA OF " CANTATAS FOR THE PEOPLE " — MR. AND 
 MRS. J. S. CURWEn'S VISIT TO AMERICA — "WAR-SONG" 
 CONCERTS — THE LOYAL LEGION — THE USUAL HISTORY OF 
 MUSICAL SOCIETIES — HOW "THE HAYMAKERS" HELPED 
 OUT — FAMILY MATTERS, " ROOTS AND BRANCHES " — THE 
 HYDE PARK YACHT CLUB AND THE SUMMER CONGREGA- 
 TION ON THE LAKE. 
 
 MY first work on my return was to carry out a plan for 
 a cantata suggested by Mr. Hall, of the London Sun- 
 day-School Union — the return of Israel from the captivity 
 in Egypt. Mr. Butterworth helped in the words, and " fhe 
 Pillar of Fire " was the result, though they call it " Cloud 
 and Sunshine " in England. 
 
 I made the acquaintance of Mr. John Stuart Bogg, a poet 
 and author, while attending a New Church conference in 
 Lancashire, and on my return he sent me a libretto for a 
 Sunday-school and choir cantata, called " The Building of 
 the Temple " ; then followed librettos by other well-known 
 English librettists — "Bethlehem," by Frederic E.Weatherly; 
 "Florens, the Pilgrim," by David Gow; and "Jacob and 
 Esau," by A. J. Foxwell. These I have set to music, and 
 they are published in London in connection with the Cin- 
 cinnati house. 
 
 For Christmas, i886, my daughter, Clara Louise Burn- 
 ham, and I wrote " The Waifs' Christmas," and for Christ- 
 mas, 1887, "Judge Santa Claus." In 1888 we wrote "Snow 
 White and the Seven Dwarfs," a cantata in which the cho- 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAL LIFE. 201 
 
 ruses are for children and the solo parts for adult voices ; 
 and for Christmas, 1889, " Santa Claus & Co." These can- 
 tatas are also published in England, though in some cases 
 under different names. 
 
 My other works since my return are " The Repertoire," 
 for High-Schools; " The Empire of Song," and " The Arena 
 of Song," (the latter with Mr. C.C. Case,) for musical con- 
 ventions; "The Glorious Cause," for temperance work, and 
 a little cantata for Sunday-schools called " The Wonderful 
 Story," the libretto by Mrs. Mary B. Brooks, of Arkansas. 
 
 It is interesting to note the popularity of the idea of 
 " cantatas for the people." We know at once what is meant 
 when we say " songs for the people." In that sense I use 
 the term " cantatas for the people." They began with " The 
 Flower Queen," " Daniel," and " The Haymakers," as repre- 
 sentatives of the three kinds — juvenile, scriptural and secu- 
 lar. They have multiplied greatly of late years, especially 
 in England. Mr. Curwen spoke to me while I was at his 
 house about sending me librettos when he should find those 
 that he thought would suit me. This he has done, as above 
 mentioned, and I am now at work upon others. This brings 
 the record of my principal compositions up to 1890. 
 
 In the autumn of 1887 we had a visit from Mr. and Mrs. 
 J. S. Curwen, and no one who met them wondered at their 
 popularity and success as leaders of a great musical move- 
 ment in England. I mention Mrs. Curwen's name in this 
 connection, because to his general culture and remarkable 
 gifts as a leader she adds such attainments, both musical and 
 literary, as must count for much in the success of their enter- 
 prises. It was a great pleasure to return some of their kind- 
 ness, and to note their friendly and unprejudiced interest 
 in our American ways. That visit is a theme of which my 
 family never tire. 
 
 I have said that when the war closed all interest in the 
 
202 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, I,IFE. 
 
 war songs ceased. For years they were out of sight, but 
 now that time has changed the terrible reahsm of the march 
 and the battle-field into tender and hallowed memories, the 
 songs that were then sung have come back with redoubled 
 interest. Their melodies are heard on all patriotic occasions, 
 and the most deeply stirred and enthusiastic audiences of the 
 present time are those of the '' war-song concerts." I have 
 especially in mind a concert of this kind that was given not 
 long ago by the Apollo Club of Chicago, under the direction 
 of Wm. L,. Tomlins. I directed the performance of "Yes, 
 we'll rally round the flag, boys,'' (The Battle-Cry of Free- 
 dom) on that occasion, and as I came forward, said : " Here 
 is the man [J. G. I/Umbard] who twenty-five years ago sang 
 that song on the court-house steps before the ink of the 
 manuscript was dry. He will sing it now. Will all join in 
 the chorus? " Jule's magnificent voice rang out just as it 
 had done a quarter of a century before. The immense audi- 
 ence rose and, impelled by their intense emotion, joined with 
 the band and the grand chorus of the Apollo Club, produc- 
 ing an efiect never to be forgotten. 
 
 Soon after that demonstration I was elected a member 
 of the lyoyal lycgion, but I will let Mr. Murray's article, in 
 TAe Musical Visitor which followed, tell the story. Being 
 in the war himself, he was in a condition to write it from a 
 soldier's standpoint. 
 
 THE LOYAL LEGION AND DR. ROOT. 
 
 The readers of the Visitor will be interested in the following 
 notes concerning Dr. Root's initiation into the " Loyal Legion,'" a 
 society of noble men who have in this case honored themselves as 
 well as the recipient of their very exclusive favors. 
 
 The " Loyal Legion " is the highest of the military and patriotic 
 organizations of the country. The people eligible to membership in 
 it are, in the first class — Commissioned officers who were in the war, 
 and whose record then and since is satisfactory ; second class — Their 
 
THE STORY OP A MUSICAI< LIFE. 203 
 
 oldest sons on arriving at the age of twenty-one ; third class — Civil- 
 ians who rendered " important service " during the war. This last 
 membership is limited. There are but six in the Illinois Com- 
 mandery, which has over two hundred members. (General Sheridan 
 was the commander-in-chief of the Order at the time of his death.) 
 
 A little over a year ago the former president of the Illinois Sani- 
 tary Commission died, and a month ago Dr. George F. Root was 
 elected to fill the vacancy caused by his removal. 
 
 If there is any civilian who performed " important service " for 
 the Union during the war, Dr. Root is that man. The editor of the 
 Visitor was in the field during all the hardest fighting of the war, 
 and had abundant opportunity to prove the above assertion true. 
 The late testimonials in The Century magazine from men and officers 
 concerning the wonderful effect of Dr. Root's " War Songs " also fully 
 substantiate our claim. But then this fact is heartily acknowledged 
 everywhere, and nowhere more completely than in the " Loyal Le- 
 gion,'' as may be seen from the fact that a single objection to a can- 
 didate of this class, by a line drawn through the name on the bal- 
 lot, settles the question and excludes the candidate. In this case the 
 election was, as the senator from Kansas in his late celebrated speech 
 said of another election, " more than unanimous." 
 
 A member has said that seldom if ever has a name been received 
 by the Order with so much enthusiasm as greeted this one. Those 
 familiar with the customs of the Order can very well see why this 
 would be so. After the business and " refreshments " of the evening 
 are through, the members gather together to sing the old war songs. 
 Staid generals, colonels, majors, captains, chaplains, and all, become 
 boys again, and, with the intense sphere of the old days about them, 
 pour forth such a volume of patriotic earnestness as can only be ap' 
 preciated by those who connect those melodies with camp, the march, 
 ind the battle-field. It is easy to see why the man who had to do 
 with the making of those songs was so kindly received and heartily 
 welcomed. 
 
 Of course the Doctor was asked to sing. He responded with 
 " Yes, we'll rally round the flag," undoubtedly the strongest of his 
 war lyrics. The editor of the Visitor heard this song once, when in 
 the outer line of intrenchnients before Petersburg, within talking 
 distance of the Confederate line of battle. He never expects to hear 
 it sung again as it was stmg at that time, but the nearest approach to 
 it would be to hear it sung by the " boys " who were there, who noyy 
 compose these patriotic societies. Here are the men who shouted 
 
204 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL IvIFE. 
 
 that line when the next minute they might have to give their lives 
 for the Union they were fighting to maintain. It is not to be won- 
 dered at that their interest in the old songs is so strong. They were 
 the companions of their camp-fires, their cheer on many long and 
 weary marches, and their inspiration sometimes on the very field of 
 battle. 
 
 The attachments and associations of the war are all very strong. 
 While the animosities have nearly all disappeared between Union 
 and Confederates, we can see very clearly how each still retains love 
 and affection for its leaders and for each other and for the old songs, 
 and for those who wrote them. We congratulate the " Loyal Legion " 
 on making so worthy an addition to its membership. The Visitor 
 is inclined to indulge in a little personal pride in the matter, as Dr. 
 Root is so prominent a member of its family. 
 
 Speaking of the Apollo Club brings to mind the musical 
 organization that I found when I came to Chicago in 1859. 
 It was called the Musical Union, and was conducted by Mr. 
 Cady ; but soon business required all of Mr. Cady's time, and 
 the conduct of the society passed into other hands. The 
 history of musical societies is pretty uniform. A few insist 
 in the outset upon practicing music beyond the ability of the 
 chorus to perform, and of the audience to enjoy, and both 
 drop off. Then come debt and appeals to the consciences 
 of the chorus, and the purses of the patrons, to sustain a 
 worthy (?) enterprise. Then follows a lingering death — and 
 all because a few leading members will not give up the diffi- 
 cult music they like best, for the simple music that can be 
 well sung and so enjoyed. The Musical Union was no ex- 
 ception to this rule, only it did not reach the extremity men- 
 tioned above. It traveled the usual path until it had become 
 nearly a thousand dollars in debt, and then it stopped to 
 think. Some one suggested that instead of appealing to the 
 people for help, that it might be a good plan to try to please 
 them, and so get them to pay because they desired to, and 
 not because they ought to. In this exigency they asked me 
 to give " The Haymakers," which I was very happy to do 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFE. 205 
 
 Two performances cleared off the debt, and left a small bal- 
 ance in the treasury. A musical organization of some kind 
 has existed ever since — sometimes two or three of them, but 
 with no marked success until Mr. Tomlins came in 1875 and 
 started with the Apollo Club. This was at first a male-voice 
 chorus ; after a while women's voices were added. With some 
 of the usual mistakes, and with some fluctuations, it has held 
 on ; and under Mr. Tomlins' fine leadership has become one 
 of the best choruses in this or any other country. 
 
 When I started out in 1838, more than fifty years ago, I 
 was the oldest, and my sister Fanny, then a baby, the young- 
 est, of a family of eight — three boys and five girls. There 
 are eight still, and we still say " the boys " and " the girls " ; 
 but considering the grandfathers and grandmothers among 
 us, others might not regard those terms as quite appropriate. 
 My father died in 1866, and then came a contest for the dear 
 mother. All wanted her, and she, wishing to gratify all, was 
 sometimes with one or another of her sons, and sometimes 
 with one of her daughters. I do not know how many jour- 
 neys she made from Boston or New York to Chicago, but a 
 good many. Finally, as she approached the age of four score, 
 she decided upon the house of her oldest daughter in Orange, 
 N. J., as her home, and here she lived most happily, passing 
 away in 188 1, in the eighty-fifth year of her age. If any of 
 her children could have settled down in North Reading she 
 would have stayed at Willow Farm, but as that could not be, 
 she decided that the old place had better be sold, which was 
 done soon after she left it. She was so inexpressibly dear to 
 her children that to " rise and call her blessed " is ever in our 
 minds, when we think of her loving and unselfish life. 
 
 My branch of the family consists of wife, two married 
 sons, three married daughters and one unmarried, and eleven 
 grandchildren. All live near, excepting Charles, my second 
 son, and family, who are in the neighborhood of New York, 
 
2o6 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< LIFE. 
 
 into which city the young man goes daily to superintend 
 certain publications of which he is proprietor. 
 
 My oldest son, Frederic W., and family live, as do all the 
 rest of us, in Hyde Park, near Chicago. If this young man 
 is better equipped musically and otherwise than his father 
 was at his age, there is more need now than there was then, 
 of higher attainment. In these days of greater demand, one 
 only reaches the position that he occupies as a musician, 
 teacher and writer, by beginning in advance of the previous 
 generation and then super-adding to his inheritance, years of 
 close study and hard work. It would be pleasant to give 
 some account of his very successful and remunerative work, 
 but that would hardly be proper here. I will, however, say 
 that he teaches and writes ten months in the year, and then 
 in the summer, when he is not at Normal, is the bold and 
 hardy navigator of a cat-boat on the broad waters of Lake 
 Michigan, where he stores up air and sunshine for his winter 
 campaign. 
 
 My children were all inclined more or less to music as a 
 profession as they were growing up, and all are considerably 
 above mediocrity as players or singers ; but F. W. is the only 
 one who has persisted in the original inclination. My oldest 
 daughter, Mrs. Clara Louise Bumham, is not .unknown to 
 fame as a writer of good books of fiction, and I venture to 
 speak further of this member of my family, because her career 
 illustrates a point in my own case to which I have two or 
 three times alluded. 
 
 After her marriage, Mrs. Bumham, having a good deal of 
 leisure and no family cares, felt a desire for some especial 
 occupation. One day her brother F. W. said: "Write a 
 book, Clara ; anybody who can write so good a letter as you 
 can, can write a good story." She certainly never felt that 
 she had a " call " in that direction, but she tried it, and has 
 had no heavy hours upon her hands since that time. 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, I<IFE. 207 
 
 My younger daughters are much interested in art, in 
 which they are fairly successful, not neglecting, however, 
 their musical studies. 
 
 Of the clan in general, including brothers^ and sisters, 
 nephews and nieces, and the families with which they are 
 connected, living near, it is only necessary to sound the call 
 and more than thirty respond. All are musical — the children 
 of my brother E. T. conspicuously so. They occupy some 
 of the best choir positions in the city, and one of the young 
 ladies is one of Chicago's best amateur pianists. One of our 
 modes of .enjoyment is worth mentioning: Nearly all are 
 members of the Hyde Park Yacht Club, whose fine boat- 
 house is close by. On calm summer evenings a small fleet 
 drifts out a half mile or so from shore, and a song com- 
 mences — 
 
 " Sweet and low, sweet and low. 
 Wind of the western sea," 
 
 or some other in which all can join. Then the congregation 
 begins to assemble. Boats shoot out from all along the coast 
 until we are surrounded by a sympathetic and appreciative 
 audience. The whole fleet is then held together by lines or 
 hands, and we drift, sometimes up toward the city, sometimes 
 down toward the great park, and sometimes farther out into 
 the " saltless sea," just as the current or the light breeze may 
 take us, but " making music as we go," and enjoying to the 
 full the luxury of the lovely scene. Out boats and the com- 
 panionship of the club are a great resource in the summer. 
 
208 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, I<IFK. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE JOHN CHURCH CO. — THE I'RINCIPALS OF THE HOUSE — 
 THEIR HOMES — ANCESTRAL DESCENT — THE MEMORABLE 
 CELEBRATION AT THE HYDE PARK HIGH-SCHOOL — MR. 
 JOHN CHURCH'S DEATH — PREPARATIONS FOR THE WORLD'S 
 COLUMBIAN EXPOSITION — MY PIANO TRADE — MY SEVEN- 
 TIETH BIRTHDAY — VALE! 
 
 THERE are some people who seem to have been forced 
 by circumstances into the wrong niche in this world, 
 and whose work, in consequence, is a dread in the anticipa- 
 tion and a drudgery in the performance. I am humbly 
 thankful that that has not been my lot. My work has always 
 been my greatest pleasure, and still is. If I was for a time 
 crowded into a niche that belonged to somebody else, all 
 that passed away when we arranged with the John Church 
 Co., as already described. From that time, as I have said, 
 my business cares vanished, and I have been occupied in 
 the congenial work of making such books, cantatas, songs 
 or numbers for their Annuals (Christmas and Easter Selec- 
 tions, etc.) or The Musical Visitor, as are thought needful, 
 while they attend to all the business matters connected with 
 these works — copyrights, arrangements with English pub- 
 lishers, permissions, etc. 
 
 Mr. Church, the founder of this house, and Mr. Trevor, 
 his long-time partner, may well be proud of its success, for 
 that success, as I have abundant reason to know, is founded 
 upon the most honorable business principles and the most 
 upright business transactions. I may not speak in detail of 
 their arrangement with me, nor of the many generous acts 
 
1*HE STORY OP A MUSICAL LIFE. 20$ 
 
 which have characterized our years of relationship, but I 
 should be recreant to my sense of right if I did not take this 
 opportunity to record my appreciation of their unvarying 
 kindness and consideration, and of my great satisfaction in 
 doing all in my power for their interests. 
 
 When the May Festival, or other errand, calls me to 
 Cincinnati, it is a great pleasure to enjoy the hospitality 
 of Mr. Trevor's beautiful home on Mt. Auburn, or in the 
 summer to be a guest at Mr. Church's old colonial residence 
 in Rhode Island. Ancestral descent is not a strong point 
 with the majority of American people, nor are many situated 
 in localities of historic interest ; but in Mr. Church's case 
 both these conditions obtain in a remarkable degree. Not 
 far away from his residence is Mt. Hope, where King Philip, 
 of the Narragansetts, lived and fought, and back from Mr. 
 John Church, in an unbroken line, is Capt. Benjamin Church, 
 who defeated the great chief and brought the famous war 
 called " King Philip's War " to a close. 
 
 The present house stands on ground deeded to the family 
 in 1674, and in the establishment rare skill and taste have 
 been shown in combining modern elegance and convenience 
 with the old colonial architecture and surroMudings. In 
 plain sight from Mr. Church's residence is also the spot 
 where John Alden and his wife Priscilla Mullins lived. This 
 Priscilla, it will be remembered, was the maiden made famous 
 in I/ongfellow's poem, "The Courtship of Miles Standish." 
 Both she and John came over in the May Flower. In the 
 village church-yard are the grave and monument of their 
 daughter Elizabeth, who was the first white female child 
 born in the colony. She married William Peabody, and 
 died at the age of 94 in 1717. 
 
 And now I am approaching the end of my story, but I 
 can not close without recording a recent event which was as 
 unexpected as it will ever be memorable. We have in Hyde 
 
2IO THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFE. 
 
 Park one of the finest high-schools in the state, not only as 
 to building, but equally as to faculty and pupils. They use 
 there one of my books for their musical studies, and one day 
 one of the teachers asked me if I would come some afternoon 
 and listen to a program to consist entirely of my works. I 
 said I should be glad to do so, and the 8th of March, 1889, 
 was fixed upon for the event. It would be hard to find a 
 more astonished individual than the writer, on arriving at 
 the scene of action. It was a series of surprises from begin- 
 ning to end. First the crowd, then the decorations, then 
 the performances, then the letters and speeches of distin- 
 guished people, winding up with the congratulations of 
 neighbors and friends ; but I will let the published reports 
 describe the occasion. If it is thought that I am printing 
 too much praise of myself, I have only to say that I can not 
 otherwise record the great kindness of the friends who so 
 honored me. Beside, the event took on something of a 
 public character, from the fact that the Associated Press de- 
 spatches made it known all over the land, as the letters from 
 many states, which followed, abundantly testified. Chicago 
 papers the next day said : 
 
 At the Hyde Park High-School Dr. George F. Root was the re- 
 cipient, yesterday afternoon, of all the honor the two hundred 
 students and their teachers and two hundred more friends and ad- 
 mirers could well bestow. The spacious hall of the building was 
 profusely decorated with flags and banners, and on its walls were 
 tablets in a variety of colors, bearing the names of his best-known 
 compositions, each with an appropriate design. On the platform 
 were stacked old army muskets in threes, ^nd in the cradles formed 
 by the bayonets rested birds' nests, emblematical of a united and 
 peaceful country. At the left of the platform was a war relic in the 
 shape of an army tent, in front of which burned a miniature camp- 
 fire; bunches of swords here and there, and an excellent portrait of 
 Dr. Root, draped in national colors and hung over the platform, com- 
 pleted the ornamentations. The musical exercises consisted of the • 
 performance of vocal and instrumental numbers selected from Dr., 
 
the; story of a musical life. 211 
 
 Root's compositions, and of the ode printed below, which last was 
 composed by one of the teachers of the school. These exercises 
 were interspersed by papers composed and read by members of the 
 school on various subjects connected with the Doctor's life and 
 works, and by the following letters from distinguished individuals, 
 which were in response to invitations to the celebration, sent by 
 one of the teachers of the school. That from James Russell Lowell 
 is as follows: 
 
 No. 68 BEACON St., Boston, Mass. 
 
 It is impossible for me to be present at your interesting celebra- 
 tion, but I remember too well the martial cadences of Dr. Root's 
 songs, and how vividly our hearts beat in tune to them, not to add 
 gladly my felicitations to yours. I prize gratitude highly, and you 
 could not have chosen a iitter creditor to whom it should be paid, 
 or a better form in which to pay it. Pray add mine to your own. 
 
 Yours faithfully, 
 
 J. R. I<0WEI,l<. 
 
 The present Governor of Illinois writes : 
 
 I count it a privilege to be permitted to join the scholars of the 
 Hyde Park High-School in a tribute to Dr. George P. Root. Only 
 those who were at the front, camping, marching, battling for- the 
 flag, can fully realize how often we were cheered, revived and in- 
 spired by the songs of him who sent forth the "Battle-Cry of 
 Freedom." The true and correct history of the war for the main- 
 tenance of the Union will place George F. Root's name alongside of 
 our great generals. While others led the boys in blue to final vic- 
 tory, it was his songs that nerved the men at the front and solaced 
 the wives, mothers, sisters, and sweethearts at home, while more than 
 a million voices joined in the chorus, "The Union forever." 
 
 Will you please convey to your distinguished guest my kindest 
 regards and best wishes. Sincerely yours, 
 
 J. W. FiFER. 
 
 Col. Fred. Grant writes : 
 
 The author of " Rally round the flag, boys," and " Tramp, tramp, 
 tramp, the boys are marching," should have as hearty a welcome as 
 it is possible to extend to any living man. His songs were a great 
 comfort to the soldiers during the war, and helped to lighten the 
 fatigues of many a weary march. Tell Dr. Root that I am grateful 
 for the service he rendered. 
 
 F. D. Grant. 
 
 Rev. S. P. Smith, D. D., author of " My country, 'tis of thee," 
 says: 
 
 It gives me unalloyed pleasure to speak a word or two in honor 
 of the man whose genius has given to his countrymen, and to the 
 world, the inspiring lays, " Rally round the flag, boys," " Tramp, 
 
212 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, UFE. 
 
 Tramp," Tramp," and " Shining Shore." There is no greater honor 
 or privilege than to have attuned the harp of the nation to words 
 and tunes of patriotic zeal, and the harps of the world to a music 
 which beats time to the march of a redeemed race to a holy and 
 happy heaven. 
 
 May your honored guest long listen to the music of that march, 
 and find his path ever growing more luminous with the light from 
 that Shining Shore. 
 
 With assurances of sincere respect and honor to him, and the 
 best wishes for your pupils, that some of them may rise up in his 
 spirit to carry forward his work, I am. 
 
 Very sincerely yours, 
 
 S. F. Smith. 
 
 Edward Everett Hale, whose response came too late to 
 be read on that occasion, wrote from Washington as follows : 
 
 Dear Sir : Your note has followed me here. I hope this may be 
 in time for me to join with the rest of the world in thanking Dr. Root 
 for the strength, courage and life he has given to us all. 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 Edward E. Hai,e. 
 
 The response of J. G. I/umbard, Esq., now of Omaha, 
 whose magnificent voice was. the first to give utterance to 
 the "Battle-Cry of Freedom," was also too late to be read on 
 the day of the celebration, but was subsequently published 
 in one of our local papers. 
 
 Dear Sir: I am most certainly and most sincerely in sympathy 
 with the movement inaugurated at Hyde Park, looking to an ap- 
 propriate recognition of the good service and unusual desert of our 
 mutual friend and con/rere,'Dr. Geo. F. Root, and I very much regret 
 that the delayed arrival of your invitation prevents its acceptance or 
 any timely response. It came to hand on the day of the event. 
 
 No words of mine can add anything to the glory and beauty of 
 a well-spent life, nor give increased lustre to the shining character 
 of one whose career has been that of a universal benefactor. 
 
 It is not alone the community in which he has lived and exer- 
 cised the. rights and discharged the responsibilities of citizenship, 
 that owes a debt of honor and gratitude to Dr. Root: the whole 
 people have been educated to a nobler patriotism and higher citizen- 
 ship by the illustrated virtues of his life, and the beneficent influence 
 of his character and teachings. 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAI< LIFE. 213 
 
 We honor the great soldier by whose genius and prowess the 
 way has been carved to victory and peace; but greater than the 
 soldier is he who prevents appeal to arms, and preserves our green 
 fields for lawns instead of devoting them to grave-yards for the 
 brave. All this, without noise and without pretense, has been 
 done by the gentleman to whom it is honorable to pay honor and 
 homage. 
 
 If opportunity offers, please express from me the kindest re- 
 membrance to Dr. Root, and regret at my inability to be present in 
 accordance with the terms of your invitation. 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 J. G. LUMBARD. 
 
 Several other communications, including a few words 
 from Generals Sherman and Alger, were also received. 
 Some war reminiscences from Dr. H. H. Belfield, formerlj' 
 Adjutant of the Iowa Cavalry VolUnteers, now principal of 
 the Chicago Manual Training School, were listened to with 
 great interest and with general surprise, for But few of those 
 present knew that he had been a soldier and a prisoner dur- 
 ing the eventful time of which he speaks. He said : 
 
 It affords me great pleasure to unite in this testimonial to our 
 neighbor. Dr. Root, whose character as well as whose life-work com- 
 mands our admiration. 
 
 The overthrow of the enemies of the Republic in the late war 
 was a stupendous undertaking, demanding the supreme effort of the 
 loyal North, not only of the men who took the field, but of the men 
 and women who remained at home. Not men alone were needed, 
 but arms, ammunition, clothing and food ; not material support 
 only, but sympathy as well. The Union soldier was cheered by many 
 kind and loving messages from the yearning, often aching, hearts 
 of wives and children, of parents and friends. How precious was 
 the consciousness of this remembrance can be known only by those 
 who tore themselves from the fond embrace of loved ones to endure 
 the hardship of the march, and face the grim terrors of the bloody 
 field. 
 
 Among the friends who, in those awful years, served his country 
 effectually, more effectually by his pen than any man could have 
 done by his sword, was Dr. George F. Root. You have heard to-day 
 
214 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFE. 
 
 how his songs encouraged our troops even in that frightful cam- 
 paign near Richmond. Permit me to tell briefly how they cheered 
 the prisoners of war. 
 
 It was the 31st day of July, 1864, in Newnan, Georgia. The 
 starry banner with which you, my young friends, have so beautifully 
 decorated this room, had gone down in blood and death ; the hated 
 rebel rag was flying in triumph over the heads of a small company 
 of Union soldiers, who, having obeyed the orders that they well 
 knew would sacrifice them, had saved hundreds of their comrades, 
 and were now prisoners of war. Their appearance showed the effects 
 of hard campaigning— bronzed faces, torn and ragged garments, 
 with here and there a rough bandage stained with blood. But their 
 spirits were undaunted, and as the populace gathered around them, 
 curious to see the hated Yankees, and, perhaps, to exult over their 
 ill fortune, the little band sang the patriotic songs which had been 
 wafted from " God's Country." 
 
 When we sang, with all the emphasis of which we were capable, 
 
 " Rally round the flag, boys ; 
 Down with the traitor ! " 
 
 I fully expected marked symptoms of disapproval ; but the increas- 
 ing crowd seemed to enjoy the nOvel spectacle, and, when we ceased 
 singing, shouted for more songs. Then we said, " We are tired ; we 
 are hungry ; we have had no food for many hours. Give us some- 
 thing to eat, and we will sing for you." Food was soon brought, and 
 I now take this opportunity, long delayed, to thank you, Doctor Root, 
 for what, while it could not be called " a square meal," is well and 
 gratefully remembered after these many years. 
 
 The latter part of the summer of 1864 I spent, together with 
 several hundred Union officers, at the sea-side, at the expense of the 
 Southern Confederacy. The place selected for our temporary retire- 
 ment from active life was Charleston, S. C. Three hundred of us 
 were in the work-house prison, in what particular part of the city 
 located I never knew, since the wishes of our hosts, expressed in 
 high walls and southern muskets, prevented our exploring the town. 
 But we knew that the saa was near, for the huge, fifteen-inch shells 
 of the " Swamp Angel," screaming over our heads, scattered brick 
 and mortar over the grass-grown streets of the hot-bed of the 
 Rebellion. 
 
 Late one afternoon in September our attention was directed to 
 the entrance of men into the adjoining prison-yard. We rushed to 
 
THB STORY OF A MUSICAL I<IFE. 2 15 
 
 the windows on that side of the prison-house, and anxiously in- 
 spected the new comers. With faces blacked by sun and stained 
 with dirt, their clothing scant and torn, they wearily dragged them- 
 selves into the prison-pen. Before they came within speaking dis- 
 tance the faded army blue of their uniforms suggested the truth. 
 "Who are you?" we asked. " Andersonville prisoners." May I never 
 behold another such sight. Their piercing eyes, their emaciated 
 features, their shrunken limbs, now concealed, now revealed by their 
 ragged uniforms, their bloody bandages, told the awful story of slow 
 starvation. We shared with them our scanty rations, and after a 
 frugal meal on each side of the wall, which neither party could 
 cross, we did all we could for them ; we sang Doctor Root's songs, 
 and cheered their hearts with our sympathy. Never had poor per- 
 formers so attentive an audience. Long into the night we sang, and 
 in the early morning we dismissed them, Doctor Root, with your 
 ringing chorus, in which their feeble voices were heard — 
 
 " Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marchingr, 
 Cheer up, comrades, they will come ; 
 And beneath the starry flag we shall breathe the air again 
 Of the free-land in our own beloved home." 
 
 The following Ode was most effectively rendered by a 
 semi-chorus of the students, all the school coming in, after 
 the first verse, with the chorus of "There's music in the 
 air," after the second, with the chorus of the " Battle-Cry," 
 and after the third, with the chorus of the " Shining Shore." 
 
 THE SINGER OF HOME. 
 
 Happy is he , 
 
 Whose ears have heard the sound 
 Of music from glad voices singing 
 Songs himself has made. 
 
 From sea to sea. 
 Wherever home is found. 
 His loved refrains are ever ringing 
 Clear in grove and glade. 
 
 Chorus : There's music in the air. 
 
2l6 THE STORY OP A MUSICAI< LIFE. 
 
 THE MAKER OF WAR SONGS. 
 
 Proud is the man 
 Whose words can nerve the arm 
 Of freemen to their noblest trying, 
 And urge them on ; 
 From rear to van 
 His war songs' loud alarm 
 Inspired the living, cheered the dying, 
 Till war was gone. 
 Chorus: The Union forever! 
 
 THE WRITER OF HYMNS. 
 
 How nobly best 
 Is he who puts to song 
 The comfort of the weary ; driving 
 Sorrow's tears away. 
 Sweet peace and rest 
 Unto his lays belong 
 Which sing of end to toil and striving 
 Some glo4ous day. 
 Chorus : For oh, we stand on Jordan's strand. 
 
 Then came a toast to which I was obliged to respond. I 
 could not make much of a speech. The difference between 
 " Come down some afternoon and hear us sing," and this 
 magnificent demonstration, was too much for me. However, 
 I could say that such an occasion was a great reward, and a 
 great encouragement for me in my work, and that I should 
 never forget the young people and their teachers who had so 
 honored me. 
 
 To Mr. Ray, the principal of the school, and to Mr. 
 McAndrew, whose invitations called forth the foregoing 
 responses, and who composed the Ode, and to Mr. Stevens, 
 whose artistic hand was seen in the beautiful decorations 
 of the hall, I could express more fully my surprise at the 
 amount of work that teachers and pupils had done, and the 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAL I.IFE. 2 17 
 
 deep and thankful pride I felt at being so honored by my 
 neighbors. 
 
 It is now 1 89 1. Most of this story, as I have said, was 
 written in 1889. Of the persons mentioned, -vvho have died 
 since that time, the most important in its connection witli 
 these records was the death of Mr. John Church, which took 
 place April 19, 1890. 
 
 In connection with what is said of Mr. Church in its 
 proper place, I would like to add here the few words I wrote 
 for The Musical Visitor at the time of the sudden bereave- 
 ment. We heard of his illness one day, and of his death the 
 next. 
 
 One of Nature's noblemen has gone ; and gone with such sudden- 
 ness that we gaze after his vanishing form as in a dream. It does 
 not seem possible that we shall not see again that stalwart form, 
 nor feel again the friendly grasp of that strong hand. We could not 
 readily connect death with him, he was so full of vigor as he carried 
 on, in his masterful way, the important enterprises in which he was 
 engaged. 
 
 From the dark days that followed the great fire, when the strong 
 house of which Mr. Church was chief, took hold of and sustained us 
 in the crippled state in which the great disaster left us, to the time 
 of his death he was a true friend — kind without pretension, and 
 generous without ostentation ; a wise counselor and a safe guide. 
 Among my most valued memories will be those of this noble man. 
 
 The wisdom of the house in forming itself into a stock 
 company three or four years ago, was clearly seen at the 
 time of this sad event. Not a ripple disturbed the onward 
 flow of its business ; all goes as before, so far as I can see. 
 
 Chicago is a very interesting place just now. We are 
 getting ready for the World's Fair, or better, as it is begin- 
 ning to be called, " The World's Columbian Exposition." 
 The inner and the outer world here — the world of mind and 
 
2l8 THE STORY OF A MUSICAL I<IFB. 
 
 the world of matter, are intensely alive, devising plans of 
 use and enjoyment, which are beginning to ultimate them- 
 selves in visible forms. 
 
 Among the new plans is "The Auxiliary Commission 
 of the World's Columbian Exposition," which has for its 
 motto "Not Things, but Men." I will let its prospectus 
 state its object : 
 
 As is now well known, the four hundredth anniversary of the 
 discovery of America by Christopher Columbus will be celebrated 
 at Chicago in 1893, under the sanction of the Government of the 
 United States, on a scale commensurate with the importance and 
 dignity of the occasion. 
 
 The measures already taken give satisfactory assurances that 
 the exposition then to be made of the material progress of the world 
 will be such as to deserve unqualified approval. 
 
 But to make the exposition complete and the celebration 
 adequate, the wonderful achievements of the new age in science, 
 literature, education, government, jurisprudence, morals, charity, 
 religion, and other departments of human activity, should also be 
 conspicuously displayed, as the most effective means of increasing 
 the fraternity, prosperity, and peace of mankind. 
 
 It has therefore been proposed that a series of World's Con- 
 gresses for that purpose be held in connection with the World's 
 Columbian Exposition of 1893, and The Wori,b's Congress 
 Auxiliary has been duly authorized and organized, to promote the 
 holding and success of such congresses. 
 
 It is impossible to estimate the advantages that would result 
 from the mere establishment of personal acquaintance and friendly 
 relations among the leaders of the intellectual and moral world, 
 who now, for the most part, know each other only through the 
 interchange of publications, and, perhaps, the formalities of corre- 
 spondence. 
 
 And what is transcendently more important, such congresses, 
 convened under circumstances so auspicious, would doubtless sur- 
 pass all previous efforts to bring about a real fraternity of nations, 
 and unite the enlightened people of the whole earth in a general 
 co-operation for the attainment of the great ends for which human 
 society is organized. 
 
THB STORY OP A MUSICAL UFB. 219 
 
 This organization is intended to promote the success of the 
 exposition of the material products of civilization, science and art, 
 but will confine its own operations to the exposition, in appropriate 
 conventions, of the principles of human progress. 
 
 Chari<es C. Bonney, Lyman J. Gage, 
 
 President. Treasurer. 
 
 Thomas B. Bryan, Benjamin Butterworth, 
 
 Vice-President. Secretary. ' 
 
 These congresses will be held at such times, during the 
 Exposition, as will be most convenient to each. 
 
 Considerable importance has been attached to the as- 
 sembling of a Musical Congress on this occasion, which 
 •shall include prominent musicians and musical educators of 
 this and other countries. I am one of the five members of 
 the commission chosen for the furtherance of this object. 
 
 One of the greatest causes of excitement at present in 
 Chicago, in view of the coming World's Exposition, is the 
 real estate " boom " now upon us. The land romances, as they 
 might almost be called, of earlier times, are being re-enacted 
 every day. Every old resident has one or more to tell. 
 
 In the "earlier times " a man took a piece of ground out 
 on the prairie for a small debt, or he let a friend have a piano 
 or other article of merchandise for a lot or two. Such prop- 
 erty was regarded as of little consequence. Almost every 
 business man had some. While for one reason or another 
 (the great fire a prominent one) I have failed to hold on to 
 the large amounts of money which have been realized from 
 my music, some of these small patches of Chicago ground 
 that had been in my possession many years, when the de- 
 cision in regard to the World's Fair was made known, came 
 to the front, and were disposed of in a way to entitle the 
 transaction to a place in the romances referred to. 
 
 I will not enlarge upon my seventieth birthday celebra- 
 tion, farther than to say it was intended to be simply and 
 wholly a family affair, but my friends of the Chicago papers 
 
220 THB STORY OF A MUSICAI, I<IFE. 
 
 got wind of it, and the reporters and tlie Associated Press 
 despatches did the rest. Gifts and congratulations from 
 home and abroad poured in niost generously, and the auto- 
 graph stream, which, if small is, in general, remarkably 
 steady, grew into a freshet, which did not subside for three 
 or four weeks. 
 
 Of all the communications received on that occasion a 
 poem by Mr. Murray, which was printed about that time in 
 The Musical Visitor, moved me most. I do not deserve it, 
 and it pushes the appearance of self-praise, of which I have 
 spoken, to the very verge of propriety for me to print it, but 
 it is so fine in itself, and is so pleasant an event in my story, 
 that I decide it must go in with the other kind and generous 
 things which have done so much toward making my life a 
 happy and thankful one. 
 
 TO DR. GEO. F. ROOT. 
 
 ON HIS SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY. 
 
 Dear Master and friend, I salute you ! 
 The sapling bends low to the oak-tree. 
 And I am but one in a forest 
 Of those who would fain do you homa:ge. 
 Vour years have been many and blessed, 
 Though mingled with sunshine and shadow. 
 The life spent in service for others 
 Dwells not in the regions of darkness. 
 
 How grand are the gifts of the singer, 
 Whose voice tuned to thoughts that are noble 
 Sends out to the world in its sorrow 
 The music that lightens its labor. 
 How brightens the eye of the lover 
 When song in sweet notes tells his story. 
 How firm is the tread of the soldier 
 When song nerves his soul for the battle. 
 So far o'er the wastes of the waters 
 The wanderer sings of his homeland, 
 
THE STORY OF A MUSICAL I<IFB. 221 
 
 And cheered by the music of childhood, 
 I^orgets all the pain and the toiling. 
 
 Thus up from the labor of earthlaud 
 He gazes whose home is in Heaven, 
 And sings as he works, as he wanders. 
 Of those who await his home-coming. 
 
 All these, dearest master, salute you, 
 And hosts of the sweet little children, 
 Whose studies your music made easy. 
 As climbing the hill of Parnassus 
 They leaned on the staff you provided. 
 
 How noble, how grand was the mission 
 The Master of Music assigned you, 
 To tune all the tongues of the people 
 To strains that were helpful and holy. 
 To guide like a voice in the darkness 
 The feet of the lonely and straying, 
 To cheer the forlorn and the weary. 
 To sing away tears from the weeping. 
 
 And what shall the end be, and guerdon. 
 For years full of blessing and beauty? 
 " Well done, faithful servant, come higher ; 
 Come up to the music eternal ! " 
 
 Pass on to the Land of the Singers, 
 O sweetest of all the Musicians. 
 Afar from the Valley of Shadows, 
 Up, up to the Brightness and Glory. 
 Away o'er the Mountains of Beauty, 
 Whose tops all aglow with the shining 
 And sheen of the Gates of the City, 
 Make light all the way of the journey. 
 Sing on to the close of the journey, 
 Sing ever when it shall be ended, 
 For they who have lessened earth's sorrows 
 Have songs in their hearts through the ages. 
 
 Dear Master and friend, I salute you! 
 
 James R. Murray. 
 
222 THE STORY OF A MUSICAI, LIFE. 
 
 To conclude, I can not imagine a pleasanter life for my- 
 self than the one I now live. When not at normals or con- 
 ventions, I work at home, because in the city I should be 
 liable to frequent interruptions. My working-room is at the 
 top of the house, to be as far from the parlor and the piano 
 as possible, but the view from this elevation is an abundant 
 compensation for the trouble of reaching it. I have only to 
 raise my eyes to look east over the ever-changing waters 
 of the lake, or north over one of its bays to the city center, 
 seven miles away. Mr. E. V. Church, of whom I have 
 spoken, is still manager of the Chicago house, and I am at 
 my pleasant quarters in his establishment at a certain hour 
 every day, in case any one wishes to see me, and at other 
 times if I am wanted, or need a rest from my work. More 
 than fifty trains pass each way every day, and the lovely ride 
 by the lake can not be equaled, I think, in the world. 
 
 My wife and I would be glad to be permitted to see our 
 golden wedding-day, which will be in 1895, and still more, 
 to look over into the twentieth century, which will be five 
 years later ; but if that can not be, we will be thankful for 
 the pleasant life we have lived here, and hope for a pleas- 
 anter and stiU more useful life hereafter. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 FOI/LOWING are lists of my books and of nearly all my 
 sheet-music compositions. Then come the two part- 
 songs spoken of in my story as having been sung by my 
 Quartet. Then two of my compositions of a medium grade 
 of difficulty (there is not room for a specimen of the more 
 difficult ones, "The Storm Chorus" in " The Haymakers " 
 for example), then the best known of my " People's Songs." 
 
 The Young Ladies' Choir 
 
 Root & Sweetzer's Collection, 1849 
 
 Academy Vocalist 1852 
 
 The Flower Queen .... 1852 
 The Shawm (with W. B. Brad- 
 bury) 1853 
 
 Daniel 1853 
 
 The Pilgrim Fathers . . .1854 
 The Young Men's Singing 
 
 Book 1855 
 
 The Musical Album .... 1855 
 The Sabbath Bell ..... 1856 
 
 The Haymakers 1857 
 
 The Festival Glee Book . . 1859 
 
 Belshazzar's Feast i860 
 
 The Diapason i860 
 
 The Silver Chime . . . 1862 
 
 BOOKS. 
 1847 The Christian Graces 1862 
 
 The Silver Lute 1862 
 
 School for Cabinet Organ . 1863 
 
 The Bugle Call 1863 
 
 The Musical Curriculum . . 1864 
 The New Coronet . . . 1865 
 The Cabinet Organ Compan- 
 ion 1865 
 
 The Guide to the Pianoforte 1865 
 Our Song Birds (4 small pam- 
 phlets) 1866 
 
 The Forest Choir 1867 
 
 The Musical Fountain . . . 1867 
 
 Chapel Gems 1868 
 
 The Triumph 1868 
 
 The Prize 1870 
 
 The Glory 1872 
 
 223 
 
224 APPENDIX. 
 
 The Hour of Praise . . 1872 The Choicest Gift . . 1883 
 
 The Normal Musical Hand- Our Song World (with C. C. 
 
 book . . 1872 Case) 1884 
 
 The New Musical Curricu- Santa Claus' Mistake . . . 1885 
 
 lum 1872 Wondrous Love (with C. C. 
 
 The Mannerchor 1873 Case) 1885 
 
 The Model Organ Method , 1873 The Name Ineffable . . . 1886 
 
 The Trumpet of Reform . 1874 Flower Praise 1886 
 
 The Song Era . . 1874 The Waifs' Christmas 1886 
 
 The National School Singer 1875 Faith Triumphant . . 1886 
 
 The Choir and Congrega- The Empire of Song . 1887 
 
 tion 1875 The Repertoire 1887 
 
 The New Song Era . . . 1877 Judge Santa Claus . . 1887 
 
 The Song Tournament . . 1878 The Pillar of Fire 1887 
 
 First Years in Song-Land 1879 The Glorious Cause .... 1888 
 
 The Palace of Song .... 1879 Snow White and the Seven 
 
 The New Choir and Congre- Dwarfs i888 
 
 gation 1879 Building the Temple . . 1889 
 
 The Young Organist at Santa Claus & Co. . . . 1889 
 
 Home i88o Bethlehem 1889 
 
 The Chorus Castle . . . 1880 The Arena of Song (with C. 
 
 Under the Palms . . 1880 C. Case) .... 1890 
 
 The New Flower Queen . . 1880 Florens, the Pilgrim .... 1890 
 
 The Teachers' Club . 1881 The Wonderful Story . . . 1890 
 
 David, the Shepherd Boy . 1882 jacob and Esau .... 1890 
 
 The Realm of Song . . 1882 Christmas and Easter Selec- 
 
 Pure Delight (with C. C. tions annually from 1878 
 
 Case) 1883 to 1890. 
 
 Catching Kriss Kringle . . 1883 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 225 
 
 SHEET MUSIC. 
 
 Annie Lowe. 
 
 Away on the Prairie Alone. 
 
 Away! Away! the Track is White. 
 
 Battle-cry of Freedom. 
 
 Beautiful Maiden Just Over the 
 Way. 
 
 Be Sure You Call as You Pass By. 
 
 Birds Have Sought the Forest 
 Shade. 
 
 Bright-eyed Little Nell (Arrang- 
 ed). 
 
 Brother, Tell Me of the Battle. 
 
 Blow de Horn. 
 
 Can the Soldier Forget? 
 
 Columbia's Call. 
 
 Comrades, All Around is Bright- 
 ness. 
 
 Come to Me Quickly. 
 
 Come, Oh! Come With Me. 
 
 Day of Columbia's Glory. 
 
 Dearest Spot of Earth to Me is 
 Home. 
 
 Don't You See Me Coming ? 
 
 Dreaming, Ever Dreaming. 
 
 Down the Line. 
 
 Dearest Brother, We Miss Thee. 
 
 Early Lost, Early Saved. 
 
 Eyes That are Watching. 
 
 Flying Home. 
 
 Father John. 
 
 Fare Thee Well! Kitty Dear. 
 
 Father Abraham's Reply. 
 
 Farewell! Father, Friend and 
 Guardian. 
 
 First Gun is Fired. 
 
 Forward! Boys, Forward! 
 
 Fling Out the Flag ! 
 
 Good Bye! Old Glory. 
 
 Glad to Get Home, 
 
 Gather up the Sunbeams. 
 
 God Bless Our Brave Young 
 Volunteers ! 
 
 Glory ! Glory ! Or the Little Oc- 
 toroon. 
 
 Grieve not the Heart that Loves 
 Thee. 
 
 Gently Wake the Song. 
 
 Greenwood Bell. 
 
 Hazel Dell. 
 
 Hasten on the Battle-field ! 
 
 Hear, Hear, the Shout ! 
 
 Hear the Cry that Comes Over 
 the Sea ! 
 
 Health is a Rosy Maiden. 
 
 He's Coming Again. 
 
 Home's Sweet Harmony. 
 
 Home Again Returning. 
 
 Honeysuckle Glen. 
 
 Have Ye Sharpened your Swords ? 
 
 How it Marches, the Flag of Out 
 Union! 
 
 Honor to Sheridan. 
 
 Homeless and Motherless. 
 
 He Giveth His Beloved Sleep. 
 
 Here in My Mountain Home. 
 
 Hunting Song. 
 
 Hundred Years Ago. 
 
 I'm Married. 
 
 I Ask No More. 
 
 Independent Farmer. 
 
 If He Can. 
 
 If Maggie Were My Own. 
 
 In the Storm. 
 
 I Dreamt an. Angel Came. 
 
 I had a Gentle Mother. 
 
 Johnny, the Little Cripple's, Song. 
 
 Jenny Lyle. 
 
 Just before the Battle, Mother, 
 
226 
 
 APPBNDIX. 
 
 Just- after the Battle. 
 
 Just over tie Mountain. 
 
 Kind Friends, One and All. 
 
 Kiss Me, Mother, Kiss your Dar- 
 ling. 
 
 Kittie Ryan. 
 
 Liberty Bird. 
 
 Lay Me Down and Save the 
 Flag! 
 
 Let Me Go ! 
 
 Let Me Carry your Pail, Dear. 
 
 Laughing Song. 
 
 Love Thy Mother, Little One. 
 
 Love Lightens Labor. 
 
 Lo ! The Clouds are Breaking. 
 
 Look on the Bright Side. 
 
 Mary of the Glen. 
 
 Mabel. 
 
 May Moore. 
 
 May of the Valley. 
 
 Music Far Away. 
 
 Mother, Sweet Mother, Why Lin- 
 ger Away. 
 
 Music of the Pine. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Williams. 
 
 My Cottage Home, Dear Mother. 
 
 My Mother, She is Sleeping. 
 
 My Beau that Went to Canada. 
 
 My Father's Bible. 
 
 My Heart is Like a Silent Lute. 
 
 My Weary Heart is All Alone. 
 
 No Section Lines. 
 
 North and South. 
 
 Never Forget the Dear Ones. 
 
 Nobody Cares. 
 
 New Voice in the Heavenly 
 Choir. 
 
 O ! Blow de Horn. 
 
 On, On, On, the Boys Came 
 Marching. 
 
 On the Shore. 
 
 O ! Are Ye Sleeping, Maggie ? 
 (Arranged.) 
 
 On Old Potomac's Shore. 
 
 Only Four. 
 
 Our Protective Union. 
 
 One Word. 
 
 Old Friends and True Friends. 
 
 On the Eve of Battle. 
 
 Only Waiting. 
 
 O! Will my Mother Never Come.? 
 
 On ! Boys, On ! 
 
 O! Mother,Singto Me of Heaven. 
 
 Pictures of Memory. 
 
 Poverty Flat. 
 
 Pity, O Savior ! (Arranged.) 
 
 Poor Robin's Growing Old. 
 
 Poor Carlotta ! 
 
 Rosalie, the Prairie Flower. 
 
 Reaper on the Plain. 
 
 Rock Me to Sleep, Mother. 
 
 Rosabel. 
 
 Rock, Rock the Cradle ! 
 
 Sing, Birds and Brooks and Blos- 
 soms. 
 
 Sing Me to Sleep, Father. 
 
 See, the Sky is Darkling, Boys. 
 
 She has Told it to the Winds. 
 
 Softly, She Faded. 
 
 Somewhere. 
 
 So Long as Love is Left. 
 
 Scenes of Happiness, I Love Ye. 
 
 Starved in Prison. 
 
 Stand up for Uncle Sam, Boys! 
 
 Sweet Morn, How Lovely is thy 
 Face! 
 
 Swinging All Day Long. 
 
 The Way is Long, My Darling. 
 
 They Have Broken up Their 
 Camps. 
 
 The Liberty Bird. 
 
 The Mason's Home. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 227 
 
 The Quiet Days When We Are 
 
 Old. 
 The Road to Slumberland. 
 The Church Within the Wood. 
 The Father's Coming. 
 The Hidden Path. 
 The Forest Requiem. 
 The Hand that Holds the Bread. 
 The Miner's Protegi. 
 The New Voice In the Heavenl}- 
 
 Choir. 
 The Price of a Drink. 
 The Star of Bethlehem. 
 The Old Canoe. 
 The Old Folks Are Gone. 
 Tramp! Tramp! Tramp! 
 The Trumpet Will Sound in the 
 
 Morning. 
 The Time of the Heart. 
 There's Music in the Air. 
 They Sleep in the Dust. 
 That Little German Home. (Ar- 
 . ranged.) 
 Touch the Keys Softly. 
 
 The Voice of Love. 
 
 The World as it is. 
 
 Turn the Other Way, Boys ! (With 
 J. R. Murray.) 
 
 Vacant Chair. 
 
 Voices of the Lake. 
 
 Wake ! Lady, Wake I 
 
 We'll Fight it Out Here on the 
 Old Union Line. 
 
 Within the Sound of the Ene- 
 my's Guns. 
 
 Who'll Save the Left? 
 
 What will People Say ? 
 
 Where are the Wicked Polks 
 Buried .■' 
 
 Where Earth and Heaven Meet. 
 
 When the Mail Comes in. 
 
 We are Going Away from the Old 
 Home. 
 
 We can Make Home Happy. 
 
 We'll Meet in Heaven, Father. 
 
 Will you Come to Meet Me, Dar- 
 ling? 
 
 Yes, We'll be True to Each Other 
 
 My principal instrumetital compositions are in the in- 
 struction books mentioned. Besides these there are two 
 series in sheet form called respectively "Camps, Tramps, and 
 Battle Fields" and "Home Scenes." There are besides — 
 
 The March of the 600,000 
 Italia Grand March. 
 
228 SLUMBER SWEETLY, DEAREST. 
 
 Andante, Snmpre e piano legato. Wm. Mason. 
 
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232 I WILL LAY HE DOWN IN PEACE. 
 
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234 THE HAZEL DELL. 
 
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 ROSALIE, THE PRAIRIE FLOWER. 237 
 
 WUEZEL. (G. F. R.) 
 
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240 
 
 THE BATTLE CRY OF FREEDOM. 
 
 Geo. F. Root. 
 
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 side,'we'll gather from the plain. Shouting 
 with a million freemen more, Shouting 
 not a man shall be a slave. Shouting 
 from the land we love the best. Shouting 
 
 the battle cry of Freedom, 
 the battle cry of Freedom, 
 the battle cry of Freedom, 
 the battle cry of Freedom. 
 
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THE BATTLE CRY OF FREEDOM. Continued. 241 
 
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 The Un - ion for - ev er, 
 
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 Hur-rah ! boys, Hurrah ! 
 
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 The Un ion for - ev er, Hur-rah ! boys, Hur-rah 1 
 
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 Down with the trai - tor, Up with the star ; While we 
 
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 Down with 
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 the trai - tor, Up with the star ; While we 
 
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242 THE BATTLE CRY OF FREEDOM. Concluded. 
 
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 ral ly round the flag, boys, ral ly once a - gain, 
 
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 ral - ly round the flag, boys, ral ly once a - gain, 
 
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 Shout - ing the bat tie cry of Free 
 
 dom. 
 
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 Shout - ing the bat - tie cry of 
 
 Free 
 
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JUST BEFORE THE BATTLE, MOTHER. 243 
 
 Geo. F. Koot. 
 
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 Teneierly. 
 
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 1. Just before the battle, Mother, I am thinking most of you, 
 
 2. Oh, I long to see you, Mother, And the loving ones at home, 
 
 3. Hark ! I liear the bugles sounding, 'Tis the signal for the fight, 
 
 m^=^^ 
 
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 While upon the field we're watching. With the en - e-my in view — 
 But I'll never leave our banner, Till in honor I can come 
 Now may God protect us, mother. As he ev-er does the right. 
 
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 Comrades brare ate ronid me ly-ing, Filled with tbo'ts of Lome and God ; For 
 Tell the traitors all around you, That their cruel words we know. In 
 Hear the " Battle-Cry of Freedom, "* How it swells upon the air, Oh, 
 
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 * In some of the divioions of our army the " Battle-Cry " ia sung, when going 
 into action, by order of the commanding officers. 
 
244 JUST BEFORE THE BATTLE. Continued. 
 
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 well they know that on the morrow Some will sleep beneath the sod. 
 CT - 'ry battle kill our soldiers By the help thej give the foe. 
 yes, we'll rally round the standard, Or we'll perish nobly there. 
 
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 Fare well, Mother, you may nev - er 
 
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 you may nev - er. Mother, 
 
 Fare - well, Mother, you may nev-er, you may nev-er. Mother, 
 
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JUST BEFORE THE BATTLE. Concluded. 245 
 
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 Press me to your heart a gain ; But oh, you'll not forget me 
 
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 Press me to your heart a gain ; But oh, you'll not forget me, 
 
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 Mother, 
 
 If I'm Dumbere'd with the slain. 
 
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 you will not forget me, 
 
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 Mother, you will not forget me, If I'm nninbere'd with the slain. 
 
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246 
 
 TRAMP I TRAMP I TRAMP ! 
 
 Geo. F. Root. 
 
 Tempo di Warcla. 
 
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 1. In the pris-on cell I sit Thinking Mother dear, of 
 
 2. In the bat - tie front we stood When their fiercest charge they 
 
 3. So with-in the pris - on cell We are wait-ing for the 
 
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 you, And our bright and happy home so far a - way, And the 
 
 made. And they swept us off, a hundred men or more, But be- 
 
 day. That shall come to o-pen wide the i - ron door. And the 
 
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 tears they fill my eyes Spite of all that I can do, Tho' I 
 fore we reached their lines They were beaten back dismayed. And we 
 hol-low eye grows bright. And the poor heart almost gay. As we 
 
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TRAMP! TRAMP I TRAMP! Continued. 
 
 247 
 
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 try to cheer my com-rades and be gay. 
 heard the cry of vie t'ry o'er and o'er, 
 think of see - ing heme and friends once more. 
 
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 When the chorus is sung, thU may be omitted after the first verse. 
 
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 Tramp, tramp, tramp, the hoys are march-ing. Cheer up, comrades. 
 Tramp, tramp, tramp, the hoys are march-ing. Cheer up, comrades. 
 Tramp, tramp, tramp, the hoys are march-ing. Cheer up, comrades, 
 
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 they will come, 
 they will come, 
 they will come, 
 
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 And be-neath the star - ry 
 And he-neath the star - ry 
 And be-neath the star - ry 
 
 
 flag We shall 
 flag We shall 
 flag We shall 
 
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248 TRAMP I TRAMP I TRAMP I Continued. 
 
 When the chorun is not suny, end here. 
 
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 breathe the air a-gain, Of the free-land iaour own beloved home, 
 breathe the air a-gain, Of the free-land in our own beloved home, 
 breathe the air a-gain, Of the free-land in our own beloved home. 
 
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 Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are march - ing. Cheer ap, comrades, 
 
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 marching on, O cheer up, com 
 
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 Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are march-ing on, O cheer up, com 
 
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TRAMP I TRAMP I TRAMP I Concluded. 249 
 
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 they will come, 
 
 And beneath the star-ry flag We shall 
 
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 rades, they will come, 
 
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 rades, they will come, And beneath the star-ry flag We shall 
 
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 breathe the air a-gain. Of the free-land in our own beloved home. 
 
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 breathe the air a-gain, Of the free-land in our own beloved home. 
 
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250 
 
 THE VACANT CHAIR. 
 
 I 
 
 N. S. W. 
 
 IVith cxpreswion. 
 
 Geo. F. Root. 
 
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 1. We shall meet, but we shall miss him, There will be one vacant 
 
 2. At our fire - side, sad and lonely, Often will the bo-som 
 
 3. True they tell us wreaths of glo-ry Ev-er more will deck his 
 
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 chair ; We shall lin ger to ca - ress him While we 
 
 swell, At re-mem - brance of the sto - ry How our 
 
 brow. But this soothes the an-guish on - ly Sweeping 
 
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 breathe our even-ing prayer, 
 no - ble Wil-lie fell; 
 o'er our heart-strings now. 
 
 When a year a - go we 
 How he strove to bear our 
 Sleep to-day, oh, ear - ly 
 
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THE VACANT CHAIR. Continued. 
 
 251 
 
 P 
 
 :i3 
 
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 gathered, Joy was in his mild blue eye, But a 
 
 ban-ner Thro' the thick - est of the fight. And up- 
 
 fSU-en, In thy green and nar-row bed, Dirg-es 
 
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 gold - en chord is severed. And our hopes in ru - in lie. 
 hold our country's honor, In the strength of manhood's might, 
 from the pine and cypress Mingle with the tears we shed. 
 
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 CflURITS. 
 
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 We shall meet, but we shall miss him. There will be one vacant 
 
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 We shall meet, but we shall misj him. There will be one vacant 
 
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252 
 
 THE VACANT CHAIR. Concluded. 
 
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 chair ; "We shall lin-ger to caress him, VFhen we breathe our evening 
 
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 chair; We shall lin-ger to caress him, When we breathe our evening 
 
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 prayer. 
 
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 ^> J i j I j4P3EJEJai=a:d^]??34^ 
 
 *«*♦ 
 
THERE'S MUSIC IN THE AIR. 
 
 FOR MENS' VOICES.* 
 
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 IVlotierato. 
 
 253 
 
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 1. There's music in the air, When the infant morn is nigh, And 
 
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 2. There's music in the air, When the noontide's sul-t'ry beam Ee- 
 
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 3. There's music in the air, When the twilight's gen-tle sigh Is 
 
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 faint its bhish is seen 
 
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 On the bright and laughing sky. 
 
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 fleets a gold-en light On the distant monnt-aii stream. 
 
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 lost on evening's breast, As its pensive beauties die. 
 
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 If sung by mixed voices, let the alto be an octave lower. 
 
254 THERE'S MUSIC IN THE AIR. Continued. 
 
 ^ 
 
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 Many a harp's ee - stat - ic sound With its thrill of 
 
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 When beneath some grateful shade Sorrow's ach-ing 
 
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 Then, then the loved ones gone Wake the pure ce- 
 
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 joy pro-found, While we list en - chant-ed there To the 
 
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 head is laid, Sweetly to the spi - rit there Comes the 
 
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 les - tial song, An-gel voio - es greet us there In the 
 
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 THERE'S MUSIC IN THE AIR. Concluded. 255 
 
 2d time pp 
 
 PTr - 
 
 mu - sic in the air. 
 
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 tel 
 
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 mu -> sic in the air. 
 
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 mu - sic in the air. 
 
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256 
 
 Rev. David Nelson. 
 
 i 
 
 THE SHINING SHORE. 
 
 i 
 
 G. F. Boot. 
 
 SeSeS 
 
 ^m 
 
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 1. My days are glid-ing swif^ly by, And I, a jpilgrim stranger, 
 
 2. We'll gird our loins, my brethren dear, Our heav'nly home discerning ; 
 
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 Would not de-tain them as they fly. Those hours of toil and danger. 
 Our ab-sent Lord has left us word. Let ev -'ry lamp be burn-ing. 
 
 , ^ ■$. f. -^ ^ -ft. 
 
 m^^^ 
 
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 For oh, we stand on Jordan's strand, Our friends are passing o - ver ; 
 
 
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 And just be - fore the Shinins? Shore We may almost discov - er. 
 
 _ ~ ^ ^ ^ ' - - 
 
 m^ 
 
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 mu4&4 
 
 5=rf= 
 
 3 Should coming days be cold and dark, 
 
 We need not cease our singing; 
 
 That perfect rest n^ght can molest. 
 
 Where golden harps are ringing. 
 
 4 X^t sorrow's rudest tempests blow, 
 
 Each chord on earth to sever;. 
 Our King says, Come, and there's our home, 
 Forever, oh, forever.