Many, many lost chords
“I cannot sing the old songs, I sang long years ago, For heart and voice would fail me And foolish tears would flow.”
But “sing the old songs” we most surely did, here in Newfoundland. We never did engage in so much hymn-singing as our neighbours to the west for we had variety. In a heartbeat we could turn from praising God (from whom all blessings flow) to brutally harmonizing the notes of “Little Brown Jug.”
Just think of the numbers of old pedal organs there were (and still are) around this island! Are you of an age to remember spinning on the round seat that stood in keyboard readiness in front of grandmother’s “Victoria”? Do you recall pulling out the stops to see how you could vary the wheezing of your grandparents’ harmonium? Was there an autoharp in their little-used front room?
Then there was the music itself. Much of it was internationally known and in that respect, our choice in old-time music would prove us very much a part of the main. Sure, we had exclusive Newfoundland songs but we were never hesitant to howl out a Stephen C. Foster or a Henry Clay Work when required by an occasion (or even when it was not).
I know all this from in-depth research, to wit., I still have parent and grandparent music books in the house — none with covers or spines intact but still occupying too-honoured a place to be blue-bagged. Some of them bear pencil scribblings as where some imperfect pianist reminded herself of the structure of a chord “A-C-E-A (not G)”. Elsewhere, a singer admonishes himself to hold on to “And the rough placaaaaa — aaaces plain”.
Our musical past
Just to get some sense of our musical heritage, I visited the Provincial Archives and went back in time (arbitrarily) to March, 1899. Here is the result:
Advertisement: “PIANOS! The enormous sales in Canada and the U.S., also the steady demand in Newfoundland for the Featherstone, Kohler and New England pianos alone prove their superiority. These instruments can be seen at the piano wareroom of Chesley Woods, 13 New Gower Street. Old instruments taken as part payment.”
News item: “A concert was given last night by the Daughters of Rebekah in the lodge room. Songs and instrumental music were rendered by different persons belonging to the order.”
Notice: “R.C. Cathedral choir; there will be a rehearsal for sopranos and contraltos in the sacristy tomorrow at 11:30. The Miserere will be rehearsed.” An online dictionary explains that is “a psalm in which mercy is sought, especially Psalm 51 or the music written for it.”
Telling it like it was
I was intrigued by repeated notices of organ recitals by one Peter Le Sueur here in St. John’s at that bygone time. Each little newspaper item considered him “wonderful” (or other laudatory words). But the anonymous reporters were not averse to telling it like it was (see below). Lesueur was organist and choirmaster at Gower Street Methodist Church and outside of church duties he gave private lessons.
“A fair-sized audience attended Mr. Peter Le Sueur’s third organ recital last night at the College Hall. The organ selections were very good and were listened to with due appreciation by the music-loving people present. Vocal solos were contributed by Mrs. Mclaren, Mr. Corner and Mr. Chas. Le Sueur.”
This Chas. was likely a brother of Peter. A few days later, another note on a Le Sueur concert concluded with this:
“The standard of the musical taste of our people is being gradually raised to a higher plane and to Mr. Le Sueur belongs the credit.”
Yet at the end of another recital report, there was this note, “Mr. Charles Le Sueur was not quite up to the mark in the duet from “The Daughter of Jairus”. By the way, that piece, I have learned, was a composition by John Stainer. Somewhere down in the basement there lies a hard-cover music book of Stainer organ recital pieces.
The music was one thing, a century and more now gone. The words were another. I wonder, does any man any longer say to his beloved that her “soul so pure and sweet makes me falter at your feet” as the versifier did in “Sweet Marie”? Today there are no songs for mothers to sing, as in “Always Take Mother’s Advice” (“she knows what is best for your good”) or, for example, that musical knock on the head composed, supposedly, by a mother to sing to her daughter’s suitor: “She was Happy ’Til She Met you”. And it goes on to admonish, “And the fault is all your own; If she wishes to forget you, will you please leave her alone; She has come to her old mother, just because there is no other; She’ll be happy in her own sweet home.” So there.
… I still have parent and grandparent music books in the house — none with covers or spines intact but still occupying too-honoured a place to be blue-bagged. Some of them bear pencil scribblings as where some imperfect pianist reminded herself of the structure of a chord “A-C-E-A (not G)”.
I was intrigued by repeated notices of organ recitals by one Peter Le Sueur here in St. John’s at that bygone time. Each little newspaper item considered him “wonderful” (or other laudatory words). But the anonymous reporters were not averse to telling it like it was …