Ragtime.

Timaru Herald, Volume XIIC, Issue 11997, 4 September 1909, Page 1 (Supplement)

Ragtime.

•■%. (By Baroness' von Jlutten.) ■ £l' inct liim first on. ono 'of "the Channel boats. It was a cold day, and be xfks wahring up and "down, us 1 » as. Jit was his nose that first attracted ate-attoutiun —li-delicace,• jmle nose.that, | even the nipping cold ci.uld not.annoy to the extent of redness; a now at j olice -haughtv and picturesque in its 1 Well-cut hues". "'Mif nose,"/ l thought, *k I surveyed it as it rested „oU the | edge of tlie. collar bT his'typ-coat,' "or a' conqueror." ' • Then, in order to light a pipe, he I folded down the collar, aud 1 b=neid his i chin—a chin humble and patient and, eminently, unsuccessful. - ■ i -'lt>o 1 wondered about him as I tramp- I 4d,-np and down the almost deferred ( , a lew minutes lau-r, 1 , s«V lum-staDding-jgi«»infi ! tyui* at the di« Jbulk ojl&tne luieuaUi '.*fJ/i>t , was I 'fjpfaei&'ltTM*'* -.*°«" ' "uiia to speak to/me". - \- ,'•.,>' ' .'/:*'•'l'bmt your pardon,- ho said,_after *. few 'moments, "but didn't \ou wnte I 'lfa*n'r" -•iitl'did." - was as good an opening as another. Bo had tevu n»j uiciurts soine-i-wttere,- and he liked my.book*. 1 wus 1 properly surpmed aud grateful, ana , tfben tuo Jiiue was ripe lor n.y own .small'attack,' i made it. " "And what do >du dor" 'I asked briskly. *VI .-'*.",- ■ ' . 1 «i" l'e's. • Bonks or pictures?" :.<'His mild,eyea thtsueu witu pleasure. tiSo. ,- 1 write iuu»ic. ' 'Jjo yuu liice music?''' ';=-! did, and saicf so., '- And what dj you wnte?" | '.""songs. . Ptrliaps you sing?" I ;- Agaiu i said ** n»v and Uuiped him I but oy adding that l should be ueligtit'tai if ne'wouiu seud 100 a song of uis>.

>I-J ust then someone jomeu me, and htf slipped iiway.

* . . , . .' . ,5-A ueek later the song came. The voids were tliose~unmortaliseu by Seliu-i bert, the " £rl-A.omg," ana tne music written in U snarp minor in the oecliaugcd ri.tiiks»ly and uiueuuinabiy to' turee oUier kejs netore vhe l«*b uiscordant chord. ,»-Thu chords were ail discordant. „ Bad, very bad, in t\e»j> paiiicular. and worst erinie dt all, it was "utterly fihsmgable, wnttea evidently by oii« irithout the slightest knowleagc of what that willing horse, the numau »oice, will it last baulk at. , . /'lt was a most awful song, ami } •Juddered to **e, written in \ety legifile letters on its cover, an address ae hoped, the man with > the nose that 1 ISSydUlwult to read. And L was ie^r«.yth^l Vor.one uay, "*»?>>£ J wA uft- *" r, g h U im mtatnt na\, turning, h.m luau let mm „ ,n *° n J ot ...'.ursc, Ud '..y svsn - — * propeilj, "£\™™ly P—y " r ' P tulA> \ k "a very Hi. 1 » au uiaiu X "iir. r .ad -brought some l.ttle things fluency' S kerned to accord .11 with unyieldmg nose- lue. ■JStodT heard some of Richard Strauss s symphonies, and that the chaos ot painful sound to which I politely and miserably listened was tho result of the great German's effect on his lmagina- •• You play very well," 1 said at last, mv ears reeling. '•'Oh, yes, I can play," he returned, in, obvious disparagement of his w> deeming gift, "but can I compose?" - He looked at me anxiously, and 1 went to the fire and slowly put on a stick while I awaited inspiration. His clothes were so shabby and liis cough to bad! "Do you think I can?" Mercilessly he put his question. "3ly dear man, -why do you ask me

to judge? Go to a musician or to a music-publisher." liut his nose, almost transparent in the blazing light of mv lire, was inexorable. '• You are a musician, and I want your opinion." But one's serious opinion about one's dearest art camnot be trifled with, and mine at that moment being expressible onlv bv the word "Bosh: ' J could not 'give' it. So 1 looked wise, and said that if he would leave the music, l'.l have'another go at it by myself. '.-"'But yon can't plav it!" he cried triumphantly. •'Then, if I can't play, how can J be a. musician "■ i'was all logic, nil wisdom; but his nose was unyielding, and Heaven knows what would have happened had not the casual porter at that moment turned another bewildered visitor loose into the Mat. and the .situation was thus sav_cd. . ; " Me, the man with the' nose, whom adl' iiiy-.adroitness and majesty of demeanour had failed to affect, fled hurriedly qii" the advent of a woman five feet four.in height, with a toy terrier in her muff. That was because she did not write lioqkv, and was, therefoie *wmiming in seas' far beyond his ken ! A few days after this I left' London, and did not return until the spring. All through the winter I had heard nothing of my friend the composer, And his dreadful;songs lay unopened among my music. One evening «n June I -w as leaving Covent .Garden, after hearing "Madame Jluttcrfly," and on tho steps it the Opera House I saw him. if he had scon roe, -1 should probably hnve fled; but I saw him hrst, and eould not. Could not, because lie looked, in his increased ill-health, his increased shabhine«=s, his increased so i piteous ithat ,1 had not the heart to evade him. He staited when I touched his arma and then glanced hastilv down at himself. •'I —T wonder von recognised he," he murmured. " You are very kind." "I 'am sorry to see-you. looking—less well, hut* of. 1 recognised jou." And then, because J simply corild not help it, because they were, tho only words 1 could sa\ that would please him, I added " And how goes the 1 mi'W "•' ~ s JI«» flushed hotly, coughing before he eould " ftoolc your advice," he said " Alv advice-" '•' Yes, to see a publisher. But—it un* no good. Thev want ballads these Enclish—ballads'" Words cannot express the malignant scorn he put into tho tame and tnno-' cuous word. - • j > r ' r 'Are-yrti .not;English 9 " I asked, for tho sake of sajmg something. "Kngli«h?> Oh. yes—of course I nni!" His i Surprise at m\ question «ns perfectly genuine, and I saw that lis minded alienism luul been mciely that of every unsuccessful British, ar- , tittf'•» *»■**' "- ''£** -, j.zvH&rSb.i, j " 1 was at this point mercifully called away by one of our paity, ..uid pivith the pleasanttst smile I could produce, left the poor man, as, it was plain eier\one and eveijthmg always It'tt him.

'flic fourth and last time Isim In in ' was at his lodgings ill Kentish lonn, whittier i hurraed one warm, rau<> evening, in a taxicab, vwth a tittle hoy, his child, who h.<d been avni '<-r me. "The lather ttu, uus cnild. whoso name was l Percy, toin .me, in au accent iar less pure tiiau that «.r his father dying. Dying, aud lie wanted to sue mo. ' {so on we hurried, tjic pool lutle boy and I, through,the pleasant, warm WVti, i „" <•, ' i', t • -„. „ When «e arrived it the. house—one i of thousands apparently, all exactly alike, even to the geraniums, priceless . flower of the poor, in the windows—,» | woman came to meet us. A slovenly woman, with an accent I one degree worse than that of the child, and a bolero of imitation Irish ' lace dragged askew over, In r cotron dress. <fc>ne also wore coral earrings i and several cheap rings. I < But there were real tears in her i eyes, real sorrow in her voice, as I confirmed the child Percy's" srbry. •' 'E's going fast, ma'am—mj lady," she said. "It's very kind of you to come." ' He waß iu bed, of course, lying with his eyes shut. When I came in, he looked up eager-

" It is very kind of you, Baroness," he began, and then slowly, piteously, yet always with Jib old invin-iblc 'obstinacy/ he told me why he had sent for me. .- He knew that his music was good. It had failed only because he had no influence, no " pull." And he was dying, and his wife "-and the three children had absolutely nothing. " She has been a good, unselfish wife to me, and a perfect mother," He said, unconsciously sneaking as though I had said something disparaging -.of. her —"a perfect mother." " I am sure cf it," J agieed, happy to' be able to say so. " Well, they will have nothing, and they've no one to turn to. And. >ou fee,"""'he went on, after a brief fit if coughing, " I've read ' What Became of Jam," 'and she. ' Pam/ was so poor herself and worked so hard, and was so —kind and good " (it 'is a tribute oi which I am very proud) " that 1 felt sure yon would and try to help." How could I tell him that I was mneh less good than my poor Pain? How refuse to use the influence that ho quite erroneously believed me to hive in the mnsic-pnblishing world 0 'How say that 1 wonld net take his poor, useless wares to market? How let him die nnsolaced ? So I promised, and hade him " Goodbye." He was very grateful, very apologetic, but always unrelenting and always faintly triumphant. He had his own way, and sadly 1 Weft-.-this'poor, little house with a great packet of MSS. music in my arms. Percy and EU'rida and Claribel accompanied me to the taxicab, anel with a farewell bow to their mother, who stod sobbing in the doorway, depressed with the knowledge of the utter hopelessness of the task I had undertaken. No one, 1 knew, Would ever even read through to its end one of th'.sc awful songs. And, .then, how tell that poor mother?

Xo one ever even saw . tho., songs, for I' never 1 took. tliem to the publisher, and yet Mrs Jessop received from me, only a week after her husband's funeral, a cheque for more money than the poor woman had ever beforo seen. - ' .■ ._ . And she and -Percy and Elfrida and Claribel are now living very comfortable in Exeter, from which city she and her husband had come,' and they are, in their humble way, provided lor for life. And for all this Jessop himself was resnonsible. For I found among the awful songs six of the roost ere-lianting r<Mnpo'sitions that 1 ever hoard m my ' Throe cf thorn ho called simply "Ragtimes" (but 1 named thorn, as ceomed appropriate, each for one oi tho children*, and of, the other three one wis an intermezzo after the manner of "SaloniP," of American fame, and two others, coon songs. Common music, unscientific, unclas-

sified by ariy but the absurd ■ word " Ragtimes,""-and yet m their wav peifect.

.Melodious,, delicious, flowing,- easy, haunting. : All, but haunting! Now. as I- write I hear, as I have heard any day. dining the last two years, the. clean-cut notes of a barrelorgan playing-frnp doubt to the delighted dancing-of 'nimble tooted children ot the poor—rone of them, ' I'.ltnda " this time. A delicate and heantitul an, and-1 love, it, as i low the othcis, tor they are of tho music that, speaking a .simple language to-simple people; gives joy inconceivable to thousands. And it seems to me that music, like onto light and.fresh air, ought to'he free to and iindcrstandcd of all , Ah, my; poor man ot the nose, yon may indeed be triumphant, for yon have done much, as the children dancing'.in the:slums would tell you. Little they'd care if, they lieard ,the stprv of your failure iii Straussian flights; litt'c would they , f<*pret the coldness shown by monstrous; • hallad-seekei s to your painful syinphbnie poems To themyoti give music that-inakcs them laugh anil dincc and that indeed is a triumph. And J like io think, when 1 <at<ll a, strain of one, of \om bv yotirself, scorned llagtihie (ompositions, that even \on, scorning tliein, must hi»\e enioxe'd writing them, as your w'ife told'me vnu did. nftrr doing some real 'ird wonk, just to cheer yourself up a Dlt ' . IT You hive cheered manv, and so i think \our no«»e wns not in vttita built on lines of triumph ,