“Catholicism is the curse of the laboring class.”
Then a workingman stood up and hurled uncomplimentary epithets at us for trying to destroy the laboring man’s only blessing—his faith. A woman added tears for her beloved church, and a socialist added oil to the flame by a bitter attack upon religion in general. Before we could make ourselves heard, a fight ensued which attracted a large outside crowd. Several policemen finally dispersed the excited audience. Our broken chairs bore mute witness of the damage, but no intention of giving up was entertained. The certainty of serious trouble for the following evening hastened our institution of music in the program. During the afternoon following our mishap, we were informed by the police that trouble was brewing for the “tent folks.” With some trepidation we entered the tent that evening. A large crowd of the “rowdy” element had gathered by eight o’clock. Four policemen guarded the entrance, but many very rough looking men crawled under the canvas at the sides and cast knowing glances at acquaintances.
Our artists for this first program had been carefully chosen, a soprano, delicate in voice and personality, a genial looking baritone, an excellent “cellest,” one of our best known violinists, and a pianist of world-wide renown. We all “held our breaths” in anticipation of what might happen. The speaker began. Immediately cat-calls and horns drowned her voice. The air was filled with foul epithets. Suddenly some one threw a stone which struck the speaker on the cheek. The meanness of the insult quieted the mob, and an officer removed the offender. Then in a few words the people were asked to reserve judgment until after the musical program.
A trio performance for violin, “cello” and piano was given. Whispering and excited murmurs continued all through this long number, but when the soprano sang the old love aria, “Ah, fors’ e lui,” from “La Traviata” by Verdi, a sudden hush fell upon the audience. At the close of this aria, emotional, tuneful and simple in construction, a storm of applause broke forth. Encores of ballads followed, and when “The Last Rose of Summer” was given, with the emotional addition of a genuine red rose, whose petals were scattered in compliance with the text, women wept, and men settled down sullenly in their seats. The irritation of the preceding three days had been reduced to normal rhythmic motion, in less than one hour of musical treatment. The rest of that evening was in every way a success.
This was not an unique experience. Musicless lectures were always more excitable in effect than were those combined with music. So certain were the results of our combination, that before the end of the summer, we could discuss any “views” with a mob element, by alternating an exciting subject with an artistically rendered musical selection. At every step, music proved its power to soothe, and showed how great is the human need of its vibratory mission.
Instances of similar effect of music upon mental agitation were observed in other situations. During a trip across the Atlantic on the old vessel “Trava,” a dangerous accident occurred during a severe storm. A panic threatened. The first officer whispered to the author to sing a song. She started the national hymns, inviting the passengers to show their patriotism and nationality by joining. First the “Star Spangled Banner” brought out a few voices, then the “Wacht am Rhein” swelled the chorus; the “Marseillaise” was then responded to, and when “The Wearing of the Green” brought forth one lusty Irish brogue, such a laugh ran round the dining saloon as completely broke the strained condition and re-established normal rhythmic pulse motion.
The tension of nerve during strikes was reduced several times by musical “benefits.” Dangerous excitement at political meetings was often converted into harmless emotionalism under evenings of Eighteenth century comedy opera tests on the East Side of Manhattan. The establishment of The Working Girls Club in Brooklyn in 1912 afforded an excellent opportunity for testing the reviving effects of music upon tired brains and bodies. One hundred and forty young and healthy working girls from department stores, telephone offices and factories, used the club house dedicated to their use and at first evidenced pleasure and benefit from the classes instituted. But presently a depressing weariness of aspect appeared, a “trying to learn” expression, which promised little for energetic application. The law class dwindled to two members; the millinery class could not attract more than six students, the cooking class began with thirty-five and ended with four, the dress-making class held but three pupils: the class in simple science was not attractive, the language classes began well, but the girls were too tired to study. Finally we gave them what they wanted, and what they needed—music. What a change came over the mental attitude! Monday, Wednesday and Friday nights, singing individually and in chorus was taught. Three hours of music swept away all traces of weariness, and sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks exhibited anew the need of music. All through the year 1912-13 for twelve months, the opera “Martha” by Flotow was rehearsed, and never was there occasion to complain of poor attendance, wandering attention, or lack of interest. A public performance was given in the Spring of 1913 at Labor Lyceum, Brooklyn. Notwithstanding long days of labor, the girls did great credit to their leaders’ work in training.
Turning to individual experiments, an instance of the strangely normalizing effects of music upon abnormal nervous conditions comes to our mind. A noble minded woman, lately deceased, devoted her life to the Sittig Christmas Tree Celebration, which annually gave a Christmas feast of presents, candies, books and entertainment to about seven thousand of Brooklyn’s poor children. She was so deaf that she heard with great difficulty, even with the aid of electrical devices. Yet she could hear softly spoken words, provided the speaker kept playing softly upon the piano during the conversation. “I do not need any artificial aid in hearing any sound audible to a normal ear, while music is in the air,” she once told us. Another woman, affected with continual trembling of the hands, became perfectly quiet and normal in action while riding in a carriage. In reply to our question as to the reason for this phenomenon, she replied, “The noise of the carriage wheels resolves itself into regular ‘beats’ which I cannot help trying to imitate.” It may be that this is but another illustration of the “need” of disturbed or unrhythmic motion for “regular beats” or rhythmic motion. A friend in Berlin was painfully deaf, yet he heard the slightest whisper over the telephone. His similar normality when listening to music, suggested to the author to class all rhythmic co-operated vibrations producing a continuous sensation in the ear, under the name of musical rhythmic vibrations. This would extend the realm of musical need to many highly active motions not generally included in the term “music.” Telephones, railway motion sounds, moaning of winds, continuous washing sounds of waves, do in fact produce results strangely similar to those seen in the application of music. Excitable people are quieter at sea-side resorts, and restless in isolated mountain districts. We have closely observed the types of individuals at water resorts in Europe and America. Everywhere the same type prevails. It is the highly strung temperament which needs and seeks the “highly strung” atmosphere. We have observed like instances in nervous university students, who study and memorize best in the street cars.
Ideo-Emotional Groups.
In our German experience, the music which elicited the largest response seemed to be that which impressed emotional pictures upon the mind. Schuman lieder are of this character: they are full of chivalric example, suggestion, symbol, shibboleth, and tend to awaken emotional reactions. In the home circles, the sentiment in music is strongly expressed. No true German will allow you to heighten the seat at the piano with a volume of Beethoven Sonaten. You cannot sit upon Beethoven in a loyal German house.