As the beginnings of the orchestra are recorded, how delightful it is to music lovers to know that the Musical Fund Society, itself a bold pioneer eighty years before, sponsored this most daring enterprise of our musical history. Dr. Dunglison, its president, presiding in the Orpheus Rooms on a spring afternoon in 1900, gave the blessing of the first Philadelphia Orchestra to the present Philadelphia Orchestra. Like Brünnhilde, herself shorn of godly powers, sending forth her hero to do great deeds, so the Musical Fund Society, no longer composed of active musicians, sent forth the young orchestra to conquer the musical world. No magic rings, or swords, or helmets were given to aid it in surmounting difficulties. The only magic formulas known to all the people interested were hard work and an invincible spirit. [Illustration: © Allen Drew Cook FRITZ SCHEEL] CHAPTER III EARLY YEARS With the first steps safely passed and the Philadelphia Orchestra organized, the period of financial difficulty began. In 1901-1902 fourteen pairs of concerts in the regular series, and a total of fifty-two concerts for the season were given. The deficit jumped from $14,000 to $72,000. Everything was quadrupled except the audience. That remained almost stationary. Twenty years after Theodore Thomas’s time Philadelphia was still not ready to attend symphony concerts or support an orchestra at any general sacrifice to its own purse. The general attitude was that such a project must be supported by a few persons who had time and money to spend. Indifference was widespread. Scheel early saw the need of traveling to make the orchestra known, especially in New York and Boston, as he realized that the saying about the prophet held good for orchestras as well as for persons. He was faced with the fact that the Association could not see its way to send the orchestra to large cities. Appearances out-of-town were undertaken as early as 1901-02, in cities in Pennsylvania and New Jersey. During the next season New York, Baltimore and Washington were visited. He well knew, however, that his work with soloists would bring the orchestra fame, and much effort was expended in preparing accompaniments. A case in point was the time that Ysaye was the soloist and was playing a Bach Concerto. At the end the violinist stood like a statue until the orchestra had finished. When Scheel went off the stage, Ysaye kissed him on both cheeks and said that the accompaniment was the finest he had ever had. Shortly after this a member of the Boston Orchestra told one of our violinists that Ysaye had been booked to play the Bach Concerto with his orchestra; but after starting it he stopped the rehearsal and said: “Not after the Philadelphia Orchestra will I play the Bach Concerto,” and another concerto was substituted.