culum and Yale's democracy spell Philistinism. As a people we are but just laying the foundations of that sense and love of Beauty that will some day glorify the structure of our final nationality, as the sense and love of Liberty inspired its conception. Let us not deceive ourselves into thinking that we are as yet a cultured people. The American wilderness was not conquered by Japanese prints. Our fathers of six generations ago were not art collectors but Indian fighters. So, in our Pageant, when you see the "Arts and Sciences" entering the stage of the arena in glorious state immediately after the founding of New Haven and Yale, you must remember that in all allegories like this there is considerable license permitted-even under the "Blue Laws" of Connecticut.

As a matter of fact, the emigrating Arts and Sciences fell on evil days. Rightly enough the appeal for morality preceded that for beauty, though they are but different forms of the same principle. So the concept of visual beauty was left to be developed by the few who called themselves artists. In the case of our architecture, this work was until recently relegated to the man whose sign read "Builder and Architect-Jobbing Promptly Attended To." When you think of it, this is not so surprising in the case of a young people set down on a vast undeveloped continent where naturally enough their first business has been the garnering of certain very material elements in the pursuit of happiness. So likewise it is not to be wondered at that throughout the country as a whole (most universities included) there is still to-day such a woeful lack of a decent respect for the opinions of architects. For truly it is only within a generation that there has been any considerable number of architects who deserved respect. As a trained profession we are still in our first generation with a wilderness full of savage tastes to conquer:-still struggling to free ourselves from the mantle of the jerry-builder and from a rather widespread belief that you have only to scratch an architect to find a plumber.

What then has been Yale's part in all this? In this generation she can claim a score of men, some of whose names should rank

high when the final balance is struck in the years to come; but in the past her record, we must confess, is a barren one. For this doubtless Yale has her Puritan ancestry to thank. In her younger days, art was "Anathema:" her founders thought they disliked it; abjured it as they did kissing on the Sabbath. How long their Blue Laws kept their original color intact I do not know. One has suspicions. But from the beginning the sense of beauty, at any rate, began to push its way out from beneath the mask. Even in the days of Rector Pierson the impulse could not be entirely suppressed. I dare say it showed itself on the very porch in Killingworth under which he read "Ames' Cases of Conscience" to the assembled collegians-quite three in number. Thus, bits of charming cornice, little runs of dentils and decorative window heads made their silent appeal-plain evidences of the spirit of beauty which could not be suppressed,-shy, hesitant, refined, utterly charming, yet persistent-like wild flowers pushing up between city flagstones. And it is just these little mannerisms of the old Colonial work which furnish even to-day the most natural inspiration for an American architecture.

So Yale officially hardened her conscience against Art, while the homes of the men who taught and studied there, despite their prim simplicity, were instinct with the craving for it. Graceful, even playful, lines in chair backs, mirror heads, and leaded fan lights were the tiny springs, the native source of our Colonial architecture, just as the spires of the two churches on the Green point to its high-water mark.

Were Yale's contribution to American architecture to be based on distinguished performances or individual performers we should make a sorry showing. But the character of a nation's architecture is not determined alone by its monumental buildings, outstanding for their exceptional merits, but rather by the average of its total product. And if Yale's esthetic standing has suffered from her pronounced democracy, the same cause makes her opportunities to serve the cause of art greater perhaps than those of some of her sister universities whose student bodies represent a

less typical average of culture. For above all things to-day we need to remove the capital from the word "Art" and make it a common noun. And the corollary to this is that the Fine Arts shall no longer be regarded as "feminine."

Now in both these respects no one of the Fine Arts is so powerful an educational agent as architecture. It is at once the most virile and the most democratic. And so it is the art of all others in which those qualities which have been Yale's pride should shine most brilliantly. Nor has any university a more pertinent motto"Lux et Veritas." For no architecture can long endure which does not express truth in its structure, nor be truly great except that truth be touched and transfigured by the light of inspiration.

But the motto does not make the cause. Nor will the mere shelving of Yale's esthetic Blue Laws suffice as her contribution to architecture. Yale must sign a new declaration of rights and duties; and stand for them as a true defender of her new Faith. Her aim should be not to produce a few distinguished practitioners but to inspire in all her students an appreciation of the value of all art, and the belief that the sense of beauty is not only a God-given faculty but an essential element in the pursuit of happiness; given to rich and poor alike; as essentially democratic as the sense of hunger; a human faculty that all governments should cherish and respect no less than the moral code.

MUSIC AT YALE

By

HORATIO WILLIAM PARKER

The idea that music might itself be useful or a proper subject for serious study among useful citizens is one which remained dormant in New England until comparatively recent times, if indeed our communal consciousness has ever quite awakened in this respect. In such a community as Yale College it was therefore quite natural that the prevailing musical atmosphere should be the rather dry fog of Puritan psalmody and, for anything I can learn to the contrary, this atmosphere obtained until the nineteenth century.

A musical club was formed in 1812 which later named itself the Beethoven Society, perhaps as Wagner societies were formed in the 70's. It furnished music at religious services and in the Chapel until 1855, by collecting and training a chorus of adolescent voices for the singing, and what we should call an orchestra, the then equivalent of the organ. The music which this society used was that to which Lowell Mason had accustomed New England, i. e., chiefly with sacred text and always for mixed chorus. Its performance by male students must often have produced curious polyphony. The Beethoven Society continued in existence until 1868 and seems to have supplied the main opportunities for the practice and study of music at Yale during these years.

Perhaps the first notable Yale musician was Richard Storrs Willis (Yale 1841), president of the Beethoven Society in 1838 and 1840. After graduation he studied music in Germany for six years. He was a brother of N. P. Willis (Yale 1827), well connected in literary circles, an acquaintance of Mendelssohn,

whom he naturally admired; moreover, he was a composer of verse as well as of music and his influence must have been altogether benign. Some of his compositions had a wide use after the middle of the century. In a sketch of his college years he writes thus of the Beethoven Society:

A society which oftener went by the simple name of College Choir and was composed of both voices and instruments. The organ, at that period, was not. The sacred violin, in those years, took the place of the 'kist o' whistles!' We had, besides, flutes, tenor violins, doublebass and 'cello; we had a most sonorous ophicleide (which was blown out the Chapel windows for rehearsals, to the conviction of delinquent members), we had a big drum, but that was a luxury-for exceptional effects; we had numerous guitars and Brazilian mandolins (in reserve); and had a jew's-harp presented itself for examination, and had it passed on a solemn church tune of good and regular standing, such was the breadth and catholicity of our musical views, that I doubt not the harp of ancient, ecclesiastical allusion, would have been one of us.

The serious study of music, in the sense which modern musicians accept, began with Gustave J. Stoeckel. Mr. Stoeckel was born in Bavaria in 1819, was principal of the High School in Landstuhl in 1848, when he incurred governmental displeasure on account of his liberal ideas, and came to the United States. In 1854, Mr. Joseph Battell established a fund for the support of a teacher of the Science of Music, and Mr. Stoeckel was appointed to fulfill the requirements of this endowment; first, Instructor in Vocal Music, and later Chapel-Master and Organist. Upon his assumption of these offices, music for mixed voices was abandoned and only such as was proper for male voices used in the choir and glee club, both of which Mr. Stoeckel directed.

Mr. Stoeckel was thoroughly in sympathy with the rapid advance in musical culture which marked his time and manfully bore his part therein. Perhaps his most important undertaking was the Beethoven Festival of 1870, to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the composer's birth. The Festival took place December 5th, 6th, and 7th. There were three evening and two