From the Easy Chair, Volume 1Curtis, George William
General
From the Easy Chair, Volume 1
Curtis, George William
American essays
When she sits at the piano and touches the keys, they respond, as one
whom she fascinated said, with such smooth sweetness that you think
there is conscious pleasure to them in that pressure. It is apparently
as gentle, he insisted, as that of the breeze upon the grass which
lightly sways beneath it. The impression upon this sensitive youth was
a test of the character of her playing. If he had said she sings with
her fingers he would have said what he doubtless thought, and what is
true. She plays German songs--some of the familiar songs in the
collections, or something of Lassen's or Weit's, or Abt's, or one of a
thousand other songs, and the playing is like exquisite singing. It
fills the mind with pictures, with persons, with scenes, and with that
unspeakable content which only such music can give to the lovers of
music. "What on earth is it all about?" said the Senator at the
Symphony Concert, "and why do people come here?" The Hottentot would
have asked the same question if he had heard the Senator upon the
stump.
If the fairy godmother who presides over the cradle should give the
newcomer the choice of gifts, what gift more precious could the young
stranger ask than the power of giving a pleasure so pure as that which
Cecilia's playing imparts? It is one of her praises that if the choice
had been given to her she would instantly have selected the very power
which the good fairy bestowed. For in giving the pleasure she does
only what she delights to do and would have chosen to do. One
philosopher, speaking to the Easy Chair of another, whose serenity was
as undisturbed by events as the firmament by clouds, said of himself
that he subdued more devils before breakfast every day than his serene
brother had encountered in his whole life. Yet the serene brother's
lofty repose was not less admirable because it was a quality of
temperament, and not a triumph of the will; and it is not less the
merit of Cecilia that the happiness she diffuses is as involuntary as
the fragrance of the sweetbrier.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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