STORIES OF

GREAT NATIONAL SONGS

CHAPTER I.

ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE POWER OF SONG.

WO hundred years ago, Andrew Fletcher, of Salton, the noted Scottish patriot, said: "I knew a very wise

man, so much of Sir Christopher's sentiment, that he believed if a man were permittetd to make all the ballads, he need not care who should make the laws of a nation." A writer of unknown name, in commenting on this famous, but usually misquoted saying, suggests that the wise man did not mean to disparage statesmanship, but to emphasize the fact that songs accepted by the people as expressions of national sentiment have a far greater influence than the statutes enacted to carry out given political doctrines and purposes.

It is easy to trace through the history of civiliation the subtle force of popular melodies representing thoughts and emotions that have prevailed from time to time, and helped to shape the course of events. There seems to be something in human nature which demands a musical outlet for certain forms of patriotic and religious feeling. "And all countries have their favorite and characteristic songs, corresponding to the temperament and tendency of their respective peoples. There has never been a country on earth so poor that it did not have at least one simple ballad, dear to the common heart, and serving as a source of inspiration in time of peril."

There is no higher human power than music. It will move men's souls when the mightiest of orators fail. A few years ago some one watched the most noted infidel in the world, Colonel Robert G. Ingersoll, as he listened to that great master, Remenyi, drawing his wondrous bow upon his violin. Those marvellous strains soon touched the over-flowing heart of the famous agnostic, and as the big tears fell "from the eye that had so often flashed with scorn," everybody present felt as never before, the striking wonder of the pathos, beauty and power of music. There is something like a divine influence in music, and that explains

why birds of prey never sing, and infidelity has no song.

Mr. Henry T. Finck, in an article on "The Utility of Music," printed in a recent number of The Forum, speaks about music superseding the chime bells in calling people to worship. In some parts of Germany, especially at Stuttgart, they have a more delightful and effective way of drawing people to church than by the clanking of the bells. Three or four trombone-players enter the church tower a short time before the hour of service and play a solemn choral so sweetly that the charm and purifying joy in the majestic harmonies wafting in the air, are not wasted on dull ears, but impress passers-by with the fact that Sunday is not as a sponge with which to wipe out the follies of the week, but a day of worship, and many hundreds are drawn to the service who would otherwise pass by the church door.

Music has had more to do in soothing the stormy and bitter passions of mankind, in elevating their thoughts, in exciting their sympathies, than any other agency of man's invention; and how many times "the contrary stream of thought, and opinion, and feeling, and impulse, have been united by song in an ocean of good will and mutual helpfulness."

The greatest intellects are those that can interpret and reveal man's own soul; and herein lies the power of the world's great poets and musicians. An incident which illustrates how quickly the human heart responds to genuine soul song, is a touching scene in the life of Jenny Lind. The sweet singer of Sweden, whose smile, as well as voice, was the most heavenly ever given to woman, was, at the height of her renown, singing in London. Giulia Grisi, Italy's "singing flower of beauty," was also in London winning much popular applause. Both were invited to sing the same night at a court concert before the Queen. Jenny Lind being the younger, sang first, and was so disturbed by the fierce, scornful look of Grisi, that she was at the point of failure, when suddenly an inspiration came to her. The accompanist was striking his final chords. She asked him to rise, and taking the vacant seat, her fingers wandered over the keys in a loving prelude, and then she sang a little prayer which she had loved as a child. She had not sung it for years. As she sang she was no longer in the presence of royalty, but singing to loving friends in her fatherland.

Softly at first the plaintive notes floated on the air, swelling louder and richer every moment. The singer seemed to throw her whole soul into

that weird, thrilling, plaintive "prayer." Gradually the song died away and ended in a sob. There was silence—the silence of admiring wonder. The audience sat spellbound. Jenny Lind lifted her sweet eyes to look into the scornful face that had so disconcerted her. There was no fierce expression now; instead, a teardrop glistened on the long, black lashes, and after a moment, with the impulsiveness of a child of the tropics, Grisi crossed to Jenny Lind's side, placed her arm about her and kissed her, utterly regardless of the audience.

By the power and influence of their songs men and women have made possible the mightiest evangelistic movements of the centuries. They have revolutionized parties, and have changed the history of nations. The importance of songs and ballads in effecting great changes in national life, whether reformatory, revolutionary, or religious, is shown in the history of almost every country on the globe.

Sir George Grove, in his Dictionary of Music, gives an interesting account of the Italian song, "Daghela avanti un Passo," which means, "Move a step forward." It is a striking exemplification of the tremendous power of popular song. In 1858 Milan was a hotbed of Italian conspiracy and in