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Irish Jesuit Province

The MessageAuthor(s): Alexandra BrandtSource: The Irish Monthly, Vol. 40, No. 466 (Apr., 1912), pp. 227-232Published by: Irish Jesuit ProvinceStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20503196 .

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[ 227 ]

THE MESSAGE

FOR the last time we sat watching the gorgeous sunset from the terrace of a Swiss hotel. One of those marvellously clear and serene autumnal days was waning slowly and

reluctantly into night, and we admired the majestic glaciers steeped in a ruddy glow, with greater enthusiasm, perhaps, than we had felt on the first evening. The intense brilliancy, char acteristic of southern mountain landscapes, lasted until the moon began to cast her shadows; it was that " luminous twilight "

Ruskin speaks of-the effect of which, he says, can never thoroughly be rendered by an artist's brush.

We were the only remaining guests-a motley company of four ladies and five men, who had never seen one another until a few weeks before, nor were likely to meet again. But from the first we had got on rather xvell together ; maybe because each

was conscious of that delicious holiday freedom we were en joving in this beautiful country, or possibly because there hap

pened to exist a certain bond between us; that of a common profession, and-" birds of a feather flock together." One of the ladies was headmistress in a training college, another taught in a National school, the third was a governess in a princelv house hold, and mvself, a teacher of languages. Three of the men were professors of different faculties, each at a different uni versity ; the fourth was rector of a high school for girls, while the fifth, a priest, held the office of prefect of studies in an eccle siastical seminary. The northerns were of an alien faith, the southerns mostly Catholics. We had, of course, a good many interests in common; our topics were discusseed with great warmth and frankness, any kind of religious controversy, however, was -by tacit consent-tabooed.

It could not be helped that at the very outset opinioins diverged: the vital question of Education, whiclh eaclh had most at heart, being the " bone of contention." The friends of co education could not come to terms with the antagonists of this

modern system, and the petty quarrels which ensued were without ever becoming personal-bitter and persistenit.

Another favourite subject of debate was Music. On suclh occasions, too, the most heterogeneous notions and opinions were uttered, and the result was many a tiff; it was indeed amusing to watch the men getting excited over this theme and



228 TH E IRISH MONTHLY

fighting and parrying to their heart's content. The rector praised Bach as the " master of all masters " ; the Halle pro fessor-of course !-broke a lance for Handel; the Viennese stood up for Mozart and Schubert; the priest bowed to no one but Beethoven, while Professor P of Heidelberg pleaded for

Wagner and the Modems. The ladies were rather reserved, each siding more or less with her countryman. Squabbles of this kind uniformly ended in an honourable truce, and by the time we left the dinner-table, we were the best of friends.

The above-mentioned evening was to be our last, as the holidays were drawing to a close, and several of us intended to leave by the early trains on the following morning. A slight depression made itself felt and, for once, the spirit of contra diction seemed silenced.

Professor P- , a good-natured old man-though a trifle pugnacious-was allowed to preach his theory of the occult powers of music without calling forth more than a monosyllabic interruption. He was positive on the point that all serious

music-whether classical or modern-conveyed a message more or less grave and important to such of the hearers as had been carefuLly trained for its reception. With great emphasis he declaimed against the average concert public, whose faculty of perception he questioned, and whom he pronounced altogether devoid of that noble enthusiasm necessary to absorb the spirit and essence of a composition.

As long as he revelled in reminiscences of Beethoven, Chopin, or Schumann, he met with no opposition, but when he brought forward the Moderns, e.g., Puccini, Ducas, Massenet, Edward

Elgar, Max Reger, Richard Strauss and other rising stars on the musical firmament, some of us tried to reason with him. He stood his ground, however, and begged our leave to convince us by demonstrating that his assertions were founded on fact.

" Last year I spent a few weeks in my old home of S n, the residence of the Grand duke of M -. On the Grand duchess's birthday great rejoicings took place, and in the evening the festivities were wound up by a select concert. The spacious hall

was crowded; all the seats were occupied half an hour before the beginning, and the narrow passages between the rows of chairs were blocked by the younger officers or other gentlemen who had been late, or who had gallantly offered their seats to some belated ladies.

"The programme promised a rare treat to the connoisseurs, and the Vienna band was well known and much esteemed in



THE MESSA GE 229

the mLsical circles of S n. The conductor's name alone was a magnet which attracted hundreds of admirers of both sexes; it was sufficient warrant that the audience should not be dis

appointed. I had been lucky enough to secure a place in the corner with my back to a colamn, which enabled me to enjoy

myself in the twofold capacity of observer and listener. " The Grand ducal couple made their solemn entrance, fol

lowed by a brilliant suite of courtiers and ladies, and a moment later the conductor mounted on the podium, greeted witih frantic

applause-the Grand duke himself having taken the lead by clap ping his hands vigorously.

"The young master bowed with a pleasant smile. He was a

tall, well-built man whose bearing betrayed both assurance and composure; he had a clear-cut, clean-shaven face, the keen eye of a leader, and sensitive agile hands. A slight baldness, which the ladies are inclined to find atrocious in others, they not only tolerated in him, but thought it rather becoming ; I daresay it

gave hiim a more dignified, not to say clerical, look than the ordinary type of his colleagues can boast of. A hush of ex pectancy ensued after his first tap with the ivory red-a present of the Grand duke's.

" The concert began, and duly proceeded, with bursts of rap turous plaudits filling the pauses. I do not mean to try your

patience by enumerating the different pieces and taking you through the particulars of every one of them. They were ex

clusively modern compositions; the last-an 'echoism,' the latest work of one of our most gifted living composers-had been

expected to be, and really was, the acme of the whole perform ance. A poem (printed on the back of the programme) was rendered and illustrated by tunes. I need not here ventilate -the question whether or not the composer succeeded in every

minute detail, but no doubt there was a true genius, witlh an enormoLs capacity for 'sound-painting,' speaking to us in a language all his own.

" The opening bars, that had to illustrate the interior of a

mean garret in which a sick man wrestled with death, were of a wonderful and pathetic simplicity. You could hear the clock

tick and chime the weary hours of night; you fancied you saw

the single candle burn low and flicker in its socket; you lheard the

lonely sufferer stir on his pallet-groaning, sighing, raving, howling, laughing, crying, as the visions of his past presented themselves one by one in an unbroken file to his distracted brain.

His happy childhood, his young maturity with all its hopes,

VOL. XL.--NO, 466. i 6



230 THE IRISH MONTHLY

desires, ambitions, and sh -rtcomings, his hiigh aspirations, checks, failures, and his final break-down in the full vitality of his manhood-all this was reproduced, painted, s) to say, to the ear with glowing fancy and masterly skill. The Tone was indeed made the immediate interpreter of thought and feeling, light and colour, so as to render the Word superfluous.... Then came once more the fierce struggle with the great conqueror,

Death ; fear-revolt-agony-a last supreme effort-submission -the vision of the Blessed-Eternity !

" There may have been many among the auditors who argued that modern music, appealing chiefly to the senses and being itself essentially material, was unable to do juslice to the Im

material-to rise to the Celestial, and that this was the reason why the closing bars brought no climax, merely an effective summoning up of all the h rns, faggottos, hautboys, and bassoons. . . . Be that as it may, the impression of the whole work was thrilling, soul-stirring; it was by far the grandest thing I had

heard for years. It certainly contained a message such as is but rarely-and only through the medium of genius-transmitted to mortals. Who of all this brilliant crowd was to conceive it and take it in fully ? For whom was it meant ?

" I sat musing for a while, then I looked at the Grand duke. He had sent for the conductor, who stood bowing and radiant before him and the Grand duchess. They were evidently ex pressing their high satisfaction and talking with their usual

affability and condescension. A few minutes later the august couple left the assembly, a benignant expression on their some

what weary faces, and serenely smiling and nodding in all direc tions. Had they understood the message ? Certainly not.

"The fashionable ladies and gentlemen now passed by, whispering, giggling, flirting-they had evidently forgotten that they had been listening to music at all.

" Some enthusiasts had gathered in a knot in front of me, gesticulating, criticlsing, debating. Several technical questions referring to the programme at large, and to the last piece in

particular, were being warmly discussed. They were not con scious of the message-not they !

" Now the conductor emerged from a group of admirers. I watched him eagerly; he talked to a well-known actress and looked as self-conscious and pleased as ever,-boyishly happy and satisfied with his success. His laughing eye greeted the

simpering damsels and smart women that were pressing round, to be-at least for a little while-near the ' interesting man.'



TH E MESSAGE 231

"No, though he had interpreted the message so beautifually,.

though he should have felt its pathetic appeal to the heart'& core to make his band render it as they did-it was not for him

either, it had passed beyond him. "Was I, then, the only one conscious of this magic

force ? XVas the message for me alone ? It seemed so, but it made me sad. I retired into the cloakroom to get my hat and waterproof, when suddenly a familiar figure attracted my atten tion. It was that of a young fellow whose father had been anr intimate friend of mine, and whom I had known in his swaddling clothcs. He did not notice me, as he leaned against the wall, rapt in thought. I had no mind to make myself conspicuous, bult another young man walked up to him, slapped him on the shoulder, and exclaimed: 'Halloo, Robert, wake up! What are you dreaming of, eh ? Don't forget that they are waiting for us at the ' Three Crowns ' won't it be a jolly ' finale ' to this rather tedious kettledrum affair?

'

" Robert looked up. ' Kettledrum! Tedious! Oh, Willy ! It was beautiful.... Leave me alone, old chap. I can't go with you to-night. There is .. I don't know.... I have to think it all over once more. There, don't make a fuss-good-bye!' So saying, Robert hurriedly left the cloakroom, and had soon dis

appeared, elbowing his way through the crowd. His friend was left behind, and stared open-mouthed after him.

" ' One, at least, who understood the sacred message ! ' said I to myself with satisfaction; and, if I wanted proof, I got it on the following morning. It chanced to be the anniversary of my wife's death, and I am in the habit of going to Mass on that day. When I entered tlhe cathedral at an early hour

whom should I see kneeling before a confessional but my young friend Robert ? "

Professor P paused and looked around him for approval " It's all very well, professor," put in one of the company,

"but I fail to see your point: you do not know, indeed, whether that young fellow had not before the concert made up his mind to go to confession-do yoa ? "

Professor P glared at the "sceptic " through his gold spectacles : " There is not the least doubt, my dear sir," said he categorically, " not the least doubt: it was the message that had done it the message which was intended for him from eter nity, and which reached him at the critical moment. . . . The poor fellow -let me remind you that I am relating facts--was dead twenty-two hours after the concert! He had been severely



Z32 THE IRISH MONTHLY

injured by a runaway horse which he meant to stop, just after leaving the cathedral on that memorable morning. They brought him bome in a hopeless state; he lingered a few hours,

without regaining consciousness, and died about six o'clock in the evening. I was an eye-witness cf the dreadful disaster and shall never forget it."

The " sceptic " shrugged his shoulders but held his peace, while the priest said deliberately:

" Pray, why should we not believe it was the powerful stimu lant of that music which made the lad retire into himself and

examine his conscience ? In a stranger manner than this have errant souls been led heavenward: God's ways are not our ways."

We gazed for awhile in silence on the enchanting scenery: the lawn, the lake, the woody glens and knolls, and the vast

mountain-range, all bathed in the glorious moonlight as in liquid silver; then we broke up for the night, and each of us shook hands with old Professor P

ALEXANDRA BIRANDT.

SOME NEW BOOKS

i. Back to the World. By M. Champol. Translated by

L. M. Leggatt. Benziger Brothers: New York, Cincinnati,

Chicago. (Price 5s. 6d. net.) This volume, produced almost too finely with type readable

for the weakest sight, gives us an admirable version of a novel

by the author of Sceur Alexandrine, which was well translated

also under the title of For My Name's Sake. The present story

describes in a very interesting way the hardships and difficulties

of three out of a community of Annunciation Nuns whom the

miquitous laws of France had compelled to disperse. What a

terrible curse must lie on a nation whose rulers interfere so im

piously with the service of God and the sanctification of souls !

But God knows how to draw good out of the wickedness of some

,of His miserable creatures; and examples of heroic virtue must

be common in the land of St. Vincent de Paul and St. John



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