COMMUNITY MUSIC OF THE CAMPANILE.

New Zealand Times, Volume LIII, Issue 12465, 5 June 1926, Page 11

COMMUNITY MUSIC OF THE CAMPANILE.

In Belgium and Holland the carillon has come to be part of the city’s life and each one of its principal bells has its own name and is known by it throughout the community. Cardinal Mercier during the war came to be called the Saviour of Carillons because he prevented so many from being carried away, and when he was buried in St. Rombold’s Cathedral the first words of the cablegram from Malines concerning his funeral were: “The carillon m the cathedral tower was played.’’

Within this distracted territory, and in a time of sieges and of distress unparalleled long ago, ii civic music ot rare beauty came into being—a music which, while continuing a place in the love of its people, has been until lately almost unknown outside the boundaries of its origin (wrote Mr W. G. Rice in “The National Geographical Magazine’”). Gradually since the time when Charles V. reigned, this music has been wonderfully developed. To-dav it is widely commanding artistic consideration and, with its noble architectural setting, it is coming to be recognised as peculiarly fitted to adorn and stimulate civic and community life evervwhere.

In every such extended view, above town hall and city gate and ancient church, rises dominant here a rugged tower, there a tall belfry or a graceful, slender spire. And each of these sky-ward-soaring structures becomes for the traveller a Singing Tower if, on nearer approach, he finds it crowned with that majestic instrument of music called a carillon.

these cities attend the concerts. Many have come also from much greater distance in Europe and from all parts of the world. A programme of the music as played at each concert i". published months in advance. And while the great master plays all is quiet, even in the Grand Place.

“That Monday evening, after the hour bell of St. Rombold’s Cathedral ceased striking and the vibration of its deep and solemn tone had died away, there was silence,” runs the narrative of Mr Rice. “So long a silence it seemed, so absolute, that we wondered if it was ever to be broken. Then pianissimo, from the highest, lightest bells, as if not to startle us, and from far, far above the tower—it seemed, indeed, as if very gently shaken from the sky itself—came trills and runs that were angelic. Rapidly they grew in volume and majesty, as they descended the scale, until the entire heavens seemed full of music.

“Seated irr the garden, we watched the little light in the tower, where we knew the unseen carillonneur sat at his keyboard and drew the music from his keys; and yet, as we watched and listened, we somehow felt that the music came from somewhere far beyond the tower, far higher than that dim light, and was produced by superhuman hands. “Sometimes the sounds were so low that we found ourselves bending forward to hear them. They seemed to come an infinite distance, so faint and delicate were they. Then, at other times, great chords, in the volume of many organs, burst forth rapturously!’

and in the greater cities on a fixed evening every week in summer, particularly' in Belgium. Then for one hour an elaborate concert, often with a printed programme, is given. Then, too, the best music of great' composers, such as Beethoven and Schubert, is played, as well as beautifully arranged Flemish and French folk songs and national hymns.