THE CONGRESS OF WOMEN.
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remain unanswered? Is it the man who writes to please the people, or is it not rather that man or that woman who looks upon talent as God-given, and who therefore strives to advance art regardless of self, who says within himself, “ Can I do aught to lead others upward through this bond, this tie that holds me from out the mire of the commonplace; can I not, by striving to be worthy, give others to drink from the -cup of precious ambrosia which is only left in my keeping that I may use it for good? What can I do to prove myself a worthy steward of such a gift?” And can we claim that one branch of art is greater than another so long as the one or the other is a gift in the keeping of an unselfish soul? Is it he who paints with brush, or he who wields the pen; is it she whose voice entrances thousands of listeners as by magic spell; is it he who charms the world with exquisite skill upon piano or organ; he who is master of that other instrument which holds within itself a soul that cries for relief at times from the wooden casket in which it is confined—a soul that is dumb until a master- hand guides the song and interprets to those kindred souls the language of his captive strains? Are the different branches of art, the different departments of music, rivals? or is one but the complement of the other?
And now we would speak especially of music. We then look to those who have been the great teachers or leaders of thought—the golden-tongued poets who are among the world’s greatest musicians. What says the king of dramatists —that man whose strength of will is felt even now, though his body has long since crumbled into dust, whose commands the greatest of earthly monarchs does not disregard? “ Orpheus’ lute was strung with poets’ sinews, whose golden touch could soften steel and stones, make tigers tame and mighty leviathans forsake unsounded deeps to dance upon the sands.” Robert Browning says, ‘‘Music (which is earnest of a Heaven, seeing we know strange emotions by it not else to be revealed) is a voice—low voice—calling fancy as a friend to the greensward in the summer time, and she fills all the way with dancing steps which have made painters pale, and they go on while stars look at them, and winds call to them as they leave life’s path for the twilight world where the dead gather.” Carlisle tells us that “all inmost things are melodies. The meaning of song goes deep. Who is there in logical words can express the effect music has on us? A kind of inarticulate, unfathomed speech which leads us to the edge of the infinite, and lets us for a moment gaze into that. See deep enough and you see musically, the heart of nature being everywhere music if you can only reach it.”
Ruskin, in one of his most interesting chapters, lights for us seven lamps which are to illume the pathway for the artist who builds in marble and in wood. Is not he who builds for us fairy palaces of sweet sounds as much an architect as he who builds for the eye to see? Is not the ear one of the portals to the soul within? Let us see whether or not Ruskin’s “ Seven Lamps of Architecture” may serve for the artist whose life is given to the building of the music palace which will be worthy to receive the royal guest before whom the heavenly hosts are bending in their never- ceasing song of “ Holy! Holy! Holy!” Ruskin gives us in the chapter of which we have spoken the lamp of sacrifice, the lamp of power, the lamp of beauty, the lamp of life, the lamp of truth, the lamp of memory and the lamp of obedience. Oh music loving souls! let us look for a moment and see whither the lamp of sacrifice would guide us with its jays. What may we offer in sacrifice to advance the growth of the Music kingdom ? As in a dream comes back the answer, “ Forgetfulness of self and self-success.” Yet who is willing to place self in the balance and be outweighed and forgotten for art’s sake, and still rejoice in the work that is done? Without sacrifice nothing worthy can be accomplished—this is true in religion and it is true in art. Look well to the weary and oft-time shadowed road, for unless the lamp of sacrifice shines out brightly, the difficulties will appall, and we shall be tempted to turn back; unless this lamp be held aloft, and our eyes with steadfast gaze be fixed thereupon, our own shadows cast before from the lurid light of self will cause us to stumble and to fall into depths of oblivion. Let this light go before us, and then will the shadow of self fall backward.