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hind. Besides these various duties, he has to ring the bells at four o'clock in the morning, at noon, and at eight o'clock in the evening. At eleven o'clock A. M., he favors his patrons with some lively airs, performed by his assistants. A stranger, at such time entering the town, is entirely taken by surprise. He hears music from above, and on looking up to the next church-spire, he discovers some half dozen trombones, clarionets, horns, &c. &c., protruding from the loopholes of the spire. He can perceive no human being, and imagines probably that the angels from heaven have made a descent upon earth, to delight the poor mortals with their spheral music, but on inquiry at the hotel, the mystery is explained.

"The town-musician's only recompense for the various duties above mentioned consists in free lodgings and the sole privilege of 'making music' wherever it is wanted. | Should any mortal being dare to engage the military band of the town, or any other band, he has to pay a heavy forfeiture to the townmusician. His band consists mostly of his own pupils, and numbers from ten to twenty. ▲ boy of twelve or fourteen years is bound apprentice to him, and from a bass-drum player he has opportunity to work himself up to the first standard of art. When one thinks how many instruments these apprentices have to learn at a time, it is astonishing how so often they turn out good musicians. The first year of their apprenticeship is generally employed in cleaning boots for the master, carrying the instruments of the band to the place of performance, running on errands for the lady of the house, learning the names of notes and instruments, and playing the bass-drum or cymbals by ear. Very often it is also the duty of the youngest apprentice to ring the bells for vespers, announce the half and quarter hours by means of a tin horn; but this latter custom is already fast growing out of fashion. The second year he is employed in playing second violin, flute, or clarionet. Oboes do not generally exist among this band. The third year is passed in learning the violoncello, doublebass, horn, fagotto, trombone, etc., and during the fourth year the pupil is at last admitted to the first part of any instrument. After that he is pronounced journeyman; and now he has to wander for four long years throughout half the world. Then only he can, after having returned to his native town, lay claim to that highest and most enviable position, the musician of the town. It is easy to be seen that these years of toil and trouble are now amply made up for by the knowledge of all the in

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struments the apprentice has gained; and no wonder that Germany should boast of so many good instrumentalists and instrumental composers, when, perhaps, in no other country so much time is bestowed upon learning the mere rudiments of the art.

"The little town I came from boasts of such a musician, who lived in the highest apartment of the spire. A very magnificent view of the town and its environs, for miles around, was to be had from his room, and this induced of the interior of the spire and its inmates was me to visit him frequently. The appearance invariably the same. The first floor contained

fuel for the winter and various household utensils. The second floor was occupied by a few chairs and the youngest apprentice, who, walking in the greatest agony from one corner of the loft to the other, tried his utmost to commit a few notes to memory; and often, when just on the point of succeeding, the shrill call of his mistress would summon him to higher regions. The third floor presented already a little better appearance than the former. The floor was covered with boards, of which the lower apartment could not boast. A large table was in the centre, and on it were various instruments and books, and alongside the bare walls stood a few benches. In one corner a young aspirant to fame practiced the scales on the violin, while in another a young hornist almost ruptured a bloodvessel in trying to win a tone from this the most difficult of all instruments. In the third corner a little fellow of four feet six tenderly embraced a huge doublebass, and in the fourth corner a desponding lover would breathe his complaints on the melodious flute. Amidst all this confusion there was a strange unearthly sound in measured intervals, which always filled me with awe. On the next, the fourth floor, this noise was explained to me. It was the pendulum of the large clock, swinging lazily to and fro. On the same floor a band of ten or twelve of the more advanced musicians generally practiced dances or old-fashioned symphonies. The fifth floor formed the belfry, and woe to the man who on a Sunday morning ascended the tower without being advised of the enormous size and gigantic sound of these bells. One has nothing in this country to compare them with. In the tower which I now describe there were three bells only; but these were enough to fill the whole loft, leaving hardly room for the narrow stair-case, which led to the elysium of the town-musician, on the sixth floor.

"This floor was divided into four apartments, which were all handsomely furnished. The walls were covered by various instruments, and piles of manuscripts met one's eyes whereever they turned. The four loopholes of the tower gave here four magnificent views of landscapes, and it was well worth the trouble to ascend the tower just to get a sight of the

beautiful country around. The town-musician | joyed apprentice then returns to his lofty abode, reclined comfortably on a sofa, a pipe in his mouth, a black velvet cap on his head, and a score of some overture on the table before him. His better half was busily engaged in household affairs, and, together with the blundering servants, the frightened pigeons, the barking of lap-dogs, and the mewing of cats, this scene presented a picture of the liveliest interest. Directly the clock would strike the hour, the youngest apprentice would perform on his tinhorn, and I, after having taken a cup of coffee with the hospitable master, would retrace my steps to my humble abode.

"But, to return to our first subject: I said that the town-musician announced the end of the old and the beginning of the new year. Almost simultaneously the young ladies of the town go to work, and while one of them questions the oracle by means of little lamps and nutshells how long she is destined to be a maiden, another one, by means of molten lead and basin filled with water, informs herself of the age she is going to reach. The old gossips never neglect this moment to examine the sediment of their last cup of coffee, and the traveler who at such moment passes the Blocksberg, or other reputed haunted places, mistakes the screeching of owls for voices from the infernal regions, and an innocent bat is sure of being taken for some evil spirit in bonds. The pallid moon peeps through the curtains of a ball-room, and dazzled by the brilliant light and more brilliant wit therein, passes on to seek another place where she can shine to more advantage, or hides her face beneath a merciful cloud. At one o'clock the watchman, who at twelve had sung the old year out, sings the new year in. His melodious voice is accompanied by a rattle, or sometimes a symphony is played on a horn of simple construction. This same gentleman is generally the first one who on New Year's day makes his appearance at the house of his patrons, and a bottle of wine or a small sum of money is the reward for his congratulations and the many times where he sang out All is safe,'Praise the Lord.'


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New Year's day, which has now fairly been opened by the watchman, runs along its course, and with it all the officers and functionaries of the whole town. From house to house they bring their congratulations, here receiving a piece of cake-there a vest pattern, at another place a sum of money, and at another they are sent off with a simple acknowledgment of their good wishes. Directly an old friend of ours makes his appearance; he is no less than the youngest apprentice of the town-musician. The tin-horn which has been his constant companion for a whole year, and which before has often announced the hours, halves and quarters, now announces his arrival in the house of his patrons, and what it has never done before, it now brings money into his pockets. The over

and after having given one last blast on his good old tin-horn, he gives it to the younger apprentice, who by this time has generally already arrived. The master and his band follow in the wake of the apprentice, though it takes them generally a week or two before they can get through with their congratulations, for, while the apprentice gives one shrill blast on his horn, the band has to play two or three pieces before every house; but while coppers are the reward of the youngster, the townmusician pockets the silver pieces, besides carrying home in his large coat pockets, as well as in those of his journeymen, any quantity of wine bottles, cakes, etc.

"I had nearly forgotten another musical prodigy. It is the herdsman, who, leaving his flocks and pastures, enters the gates of the town to bring his mite to the festivities of the occasion. His trusty dog accompanies him, and the long cowhorn hangs on a leather-strap over his shoulders. From house to house he wanders, and whether its inmates have entrusted their sheep to him or not, he receives his bounty.

"The military band now makes it appearance. After having first played in the houses of their officers, they now visit the citizens; and often the two bands (the town-musician's and the military) meet in the same house, where, while one performs up stairs, the other delights those living on the first floor. There are certainly a great many nuisances connected with these customs, and in consequence thereof they are gradually discontinued; but I must confess there is a charm in these homely usages for which once a year these nuisances might be endured.

"Thus far instrumental performers have kept possession of the field; but now a vocal choir makes its appearance, to which again I shall devote a few lines of description. This choir consists of a Præfect with some fifty or sixty singers, from boys of ten years up to men of fifty. The choir is called 'the Currende,' and I suppose must have derived its existence from the cathedral singers of the Catholic Church. They are all candidates for the 'cantorship' of some little town or village, and often these singers get gray hairs, or die, even, without having attained that for which they toiled so hard for many years. These chorists or seminarists, as they are sometimes called, are a curious sort of people. Their face, their figure, their language, their very motion, is enough to tell the initiated-'that is a chorist.' Their face looks haggard in consequence of severe study; their figure is thin, in consequence of their not being blessed with too many of the good things of this life. Their dress is always old-fashioned, their motions and gestures are stiff, and their language high-flown, as it generally is, abounds with faults against

the construction and pronunciation. But with their music no fault can be found. They sing generally the most classic music, motettes, masses, etc.; in fact, they are now the only ones who sing that class of music. During the year they go about the streets at dinnertime, singing three pieces before the houses of all those who contribute to their support; and on New Year's day they receive small donations from the hands of all, wherever they sing. They are generally the music-teachers of the town, and together with giving lessons in the elementary branches of education, they manage to get through this life without being in any body's way.

"This custom has also been discontinued of late, and the choir now only sings once every week in the church, though I am sorry to say, they find few listeners. The musical abilities of these cantors, that are to be, are by no means indifferent. All of them are well versed in the rules of composition and thorough bass, and could they but divest themselves of that pedantry which always distinguishes them, they might be of much more general benefit to the world than they now are.

"These cantors form generally the greater part of the Liedertafeln,' and many of them play, besides the piano and organ, which they all must know, on different instruments. The cantorship, to which they all aspire, is occupied by rotation, and the situations themselves are divided into different classes, according to the salary which they can afford to the cantor."

I have thus largely digressed from my original design, because I could not resist the temptation to give the reader a view of musical life in so humble, yet elevated a sphere, and the little apprentice has doubtlessly been anxiously watched as he toiled on towards that goal which it is the object of all to reach.

But now a look into some larger city. In Germany, vocal music is taught in all the public schools. Thus the ear of the pupil is early trained, and the heart is made susceptible to the influence of music, which throughout the whole life showers its blessings upon those who thus early prepared themselves for it. The boy leaves school and becomes apprentice to some mechanic; his time is no longer his own, but he sings when at work; he visits the Sunday school, where again singing forms a principal feature. The apprentice becomes journeyman, and has to enter on his wanderings. His comrades accompany him to the nearest village, singing their guild-songs, and wishing him "God speed"

in unanimous musical chorus. The journeyman returns and becomes master. He has heard in his wanderings "many lays of foreign lands," and these have only increased his love for an art which early has been instilled into his heart. He joins some singing club, visits public places of amusement, where he submits willingly to the influence of those bewitching strains of music which is performed by an excellent band. Of such places there are a great many throughout Germany, and government, well knowing its influence on public morals, encourages music in this and every other way.

And now a word of the public schools in this country. If singing is at all taught in them, it is done by indifferent teachers, on more indifferent systems. It is therefore not understood by the pupils, makes it a drudgery to them, and the moment active life begins, it is either thrown aside altogether, or but the very lowest species thereof is cultivated.

But if music were taught properly in these schools, if it were continued afterwards in institutions of a higher character, it would not alone improve the morals of the community, but it would actually open a new field to them to gain a respectable livelihood. There would be, after but few years, no necessity of foreign teachers, bands need not consist of foreigners, and a proper appreciation of music, which in this way would be most promulgated, would not fail to carry its own reward with it.

But to carry this out fully, our clergy, presidents of academies, colleges, and universities, should bestow somewhat more of their attention on this subject. The work begun in the public schools should be continued by them. If in the one music was taught merely practically in their institutions, its theory should be explained. Theological students, most of all, should have a thorough knowledge of music. This is by no means as great an undertaking as it sounds to be. Let music be stripped of all the pedantry which has clung to it for centuries, and it becomes at once plain and intelligible; much has been done towards this of late, and much more will be done.

And is it not really the duty of a minister to make himself acquainted with music? Ought he not to have sufficient.

knowledge of the art to keep out of the service of a Divine Being all those melodies which, in themselves trifling, have been rendered still less worthy of a sacred use by profane associations?

"It is the object of all church-music to awake the man, who, by the outer world, and cares and anxieties of busy life, has been detracted, somewhat, to a consciousness of his heavenly origin and high destiny; to turn his mind, which has been imprisoned in the bands of reality, of earthly joys and sorrows, from the trifling machinations and the jealously-pursued interests of the moment, and to lead it to God and eternity, and to fill it with the high forebodings of immortality, and the holy longing of another and better world."

Is there a higher and nobler office in existence? and yet we see the greatest indifference to it exhibited on the part of the minister as well as of the congregation; frivolous and sensual music usurps the space which should be filled by the highest of its class, and while the same persons would be ashamed to offer to a friend anything but the very best in their possession, they offer to their Maker the very vilest of all music.

The secular music of this country exhibits the same faults. Time and money is wasted on music and musical instruction, and the only equivalent to the pupil is rapid execution, or flexibility of voice. No one ever thinks of informing a pupil how to derive benefit from his music beyond the mere gratification of vanity, and thus we


| are compelled, sometimes, to listen for hours to fantasias by De Meyer, or variations by Herz, without having room for any other feeling but fear, lest the performer, in his musical gymnastics, might break his fingers or sprain his wrist. vocal music we are generally regaled by the latest cavatina of an Italian composer, in which the latter has paid about as much regard to interpreting the words properly, as the singer does to interpreting his music.

Vocal music offers the best means of training a pupil properly. Here he can compare the ascending and descending of the notes to the inclination of the voice in language. He can observe the chords, which good composers of music have made use of, to represent certain feelings or passions. In one word, it should form the elementary study of music, and only after having properly investigated and understood this branch, he can throw aside the leading strings, (the words,) and venture into the higher regions of the art. By degrees the intimate relation between this and other arts will be discovered; in fact, music will become a representative of all the arts. "A landscape will expand before him as he examines the light and shade of melody and harmony; a palace will arise before him as he analyzes the rhythmical construction of a composition; and in the combination of all these elements, man, with all his joys and sorrows, passions and emotions, will be represented to him."

H. S. S.



not been formed by the reading of scientific authors; and we should say of Mr. Corkran, that although there is not a Latin quotation in his work, and scarcely a French one, that he is well read in the languages, and a thorough classical scholar. It is very noticeable that quotations from the learned languages are less than ever employed by good writers, and then chiefly for illustration; rarely as a rhetorical

J. F. CORKRAN, in his History of the equal merit, though the interest of the the National Constituent Assembly of time, and the greater variety of the subFrance, from May, 1848, at the sittings of ject, together with a freer and more imwhich he was in daily attendance, has imaginative handling, gives to that of Mr. given a series of admirable sketches of the Corkran a superior interest. For their style, manner, appearance, opinions and use of language, these works are the most conduct of the leading men of Paris, dur- perfect examples we have met with of ing the sittings of that famous assembly, the style of English proper to this repubup to the suppression of the insurrection lican age: there is no more ornament alof June. No such picture of Parisian lowed than is necessary to avoid monotony; politics of the present day has been given the words chosen are the words equally of to the English reader, as this of Mr. conversation and of oratory; the sentences Corkran's his style, his manner, choice of have no antithesis, and the reader is borne subject, choice of language and reflections, along rather by the spirit and view of the show a finely tempered intellect, an open author, than by the narration itself. Sir and observing spirit, and a character de- C. Lyell is esteemed a classic among sciveloped by reflection and society equally.entific writers, but his style of English has Mr. Corkran writes, par eminence, like a gentleman, not like a Yankee or an Englishman his book, however, has, if we may use the term, an American flavor: nothing on the title page of our copy of his book indicating its English origin, we supposed it to have been written by an American, and immediately classed the author among our most polished and cultivated minds; not, indeed, among men of genius, but among men of sense. It is not our intention to review his work, nor to eviscerate it. After the reader has perused the extracts which we shall give from it, he will be only in a better condition to begin the work and read it regularly through it is a history of the time, and more especially a history of the causes and transactions of the great insurrection of June: it is probably the best history that will be written of that event; for its political value we venture to say that a better work could not be written on the subject: it gives men and their conduct, without malice or favor, with a true historical feeling, heightened by the interest of a personal observation and familiarity.

This work, and the Travels of Sir Charles Lyell, in the United States, noticed in our last, seem to us to be works of very


The names of the leaders of the Social Democratic Revolution in Paris, (the results of universal suffrage forbid us to say in France,) are, as given by Mr. Corkran, as follows: Barbès, the idol of the ultra revolutionary clubs, of the school of Robespierre, or rather of Marat; Flocon, a democrat of the destructive school, a disciple of Louis Blanc; Raspail, also an imitator of Marat, a democrat of the destructive school; Blanqui, the founder of a secret society for the promotion of massacre and insurrections; Sobrier, the editor of a newspaper called "The Commune de Paris," also a destructive and an enthusiast; Marc Caussidière, the people's Antony-the melo-dramatic hero of the Revolution, a tribune of the people, a man of all place and all conditions; Emile Thomas, a young engineer of talent, who

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