Mary Baldwin College - Bluestocking Yearbook (Staunton, VA)

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The Mary Baldivin Seminary. 27 vestige of habitation are swept from the island. The wild storm is heard again after the waltz ceases, louder and louder, until, after the island is submerged, the waltz breaks in with the storm motive, making a contrast most wild and effective. Fi- nally, the waltz like the storm dies away. But do not think these are the only pieces in my portfolio. There are Etudes and studies galore, all regarded with varying dea:rees of aversion. Kullak, Cramer, Bach, Raff, dementi ' s Gradus ad Parnassum, and if the difficulties of ascending the lofty height of Parnassus are greater in proportion to that of travelling over the Road — for I presume as is the case with most mountains, the Road only extends to the foot — few of us will possess the energj ' to attempt the narrow ob- structed path beyond. And. those awful octave studies — the banes of my exist- ence. Why, when one ' s hands look enormous, they cannot be made to strike octaves is a problem whose solution I am looking for in the efforts of the future. I have tried in vain to find it here. And, I must not forget my Organ Studies. The Semi- nary organ dates back no later than the early sixties, and every key is out of tune, still, five of us practice an hour on it to the mental anguish of ourselves, and every one else in the build- ing. The poor old blower ! He certainly has my deepest sym- pathy. To listen to one ' s self an hour is annihilating, and how he stands it for five is a wonder. He either possesses no nerves, or they are of iron. How I have longed to be tall, when I have encountered the pedal exercises. I .spend the most of my time pulling myself up from beneath the organ, where I slide in my efforts to reach them. I finally succeed in learning to suspend myself in mid-air, as it were, and play the manuals and the pedals at the .same time. Fairies have been favorite subjects with composers, and Mendelssohn was particularly fond of them. His overture to the Midsummer Night ' s Dream is indelibly impres.sed upon my mind. We played it as a double quartette. Unless you have played one, you know nothing of its horrors. Not only

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26 The Annual of At a certain turn, all cease to move. A cavalier advances, and, bending low to the lady leading, begs her to accept him as a partner. She accepts, and each man in succession craves the honor of the lady at his rear. Naturally every leadef tries to plan lovelier figures than the former, and his rivalry greatly enhances the beauty of the polonaise. Chopin ' s Berceuse is one of the most beautiful in existence. The mother sits by the cradle in which the hope of her life lies sleeping. She sings a soft lullaby. Her thoughts meanwhile have flown to the future. She dreams of her darling ' s career. All happiness should be his, were she able to bestow it, but, alas, she knows life too well to deem this possible. She knows of the sorrows, of the temptations that will come to him, but fer- vently prays that he may be noble and strong enough to with- stand them. Another of my favorite compositions is a ballad by Perry, entitled, The Lost Island. The scene of the story is one of the most beautiful islands in the Gulf of Mexico. Rare flow- ers, noble trees, and birds of great beauty adorned it. The southern sun shone its warmest and brightest there. Exquis- ite hotels lined its shore, and people from every country throng- ed them. The music begins with a wild rush of sound, in which one hears the great breakers, as they fiercely lash the shore, and the wild sobbing and sighing. There is a lull in the storm and we catch the sound of a waltz of ravishing sweet- ness. Determined to forget the wild night, and their immedi- ate danger, the guests had planned a ball. The contrast is great. Without, is utter darkness, and the howling of the winds and waves ; within, the lights burn brightly, lovely women to whose beauty elegant dress has added a double charm, and chivalrous men were all dancing. To the superficial observer, all is happiness. The smile, however, is forced, the laugh has a hollow ring, the eye is dark with terror; in vain, they try to forget and be merry. A ship is moored The captain as he hears the music exclaims, What, dancing ? If the wind conies round to the South-east, I fear they will dance to another tune. The wind does turn to the South-east. The hotels and every

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28 The Anmial of must you play in exact time with the second piano, but you also must strike every note with the girl playing your same part. No easy matter. And if the audience considered for a moment the labor expended in getting up one of those quartettes, I really do not think they would chat so audibly, and say so unkind things about the unmusical classic. The donkey brays representing Bottom were in my part, and unlike most donkeys, I did not bray sufficiently loud. The dances of the fairies in the overture are beautiful, so light and grace- ful. You can almost see their tiny forms, flitting airily about among the flowers. Saint- Saens Danse Macabre has, as is the case with the compositions of many French writers and composers, a most gruesome theme. The clock strikes twelve. Then is the sound of the rattling of bones, as the ghosts gather from their abodes to join in the dance. The old King of Death begins to tune his fiddle. It needs it badly, for it has been in a damp grave since that Hallow E ' en. He never succeeds in getting it in perfect tune, but the ghosts have a wild, merry dance notwith- standing. At last the faintest tinge of light is seen, a cock in a neighboring barnyard crows a note of warning, and the ghosts madly scamper back to their graves. There is a creak- ing sound as the lids are again clo.sed upon the coffins. Schumann represents the various scenes at a masquerade ball in his Papillous. In the first number it is the brilliant and dazzling eflfect made upon one in entering a ball room, in which a vast assembly is dressed in gorgeous and fantastic mas- querade. How bewildering is the effort to guess the masker. The next is jovial and light, representing the antics of the jester. Then follows the promenade of the maskers. Then comes a tender, low melody representing the dialogue of two lovers. Cupid, though blind, has divined the persons beneath the mask. They have slipped away from the glitter and glare of the lights, and whisper their tender words. A waltz is the next number, of such sweetness that the effort to join in would prove futile. The ball breaks up during the dancing of the Grandfather ' s Minuet. The .sun streams in throu h the