MUSIC’S STORY

MUSIC’S STORY

“Once upon a time, a long while ago, I was standing on the rounded shore of the world, gazing into space. As I stood there, lost in thought, my attention was eventually called to a long, slow succession of sounds like sighs, infinitely sad, but inexpressibly sweet.

“Whilst I was wondering what these sounds might mean, and from whence they came, at my feet I suddenly perceived a very extraordinary-looking little person, who appeared to be all head and no body. He was looking up at me with such a wistful expression on his face that I felt impelled to ask him, ‘Who are you, and what is your Story?’ And by way of answer, in a very slow and somewhat hesitating way, this is what he said:—

“ ‘My name is Music, though my parents call me Breve. For untold ages I have lived upon the outer edge of the earth with my father, Harmony, and my mother, Concord. Both my parents have quite an exalted opinion of me; but so far I have not come up to their expectations. I am very sorry that this should be the case, for nothing would please me better than to justify their hopes.

“ ‘The truth is, however, that they are so wrapped up in each other and their mutual affairs, that they will not listen to what I have to say, and so I make no progress. I am but a single sound sighing in a wilderness! If by chance I could persuade them, or, for that matter, anyone else, to do what I know in my mind is the right thing to be done, I am certain I should be a success. I know, though they do not, that my head is as full of dainty melodies as a pomegranate is full of pretty seeds, and that if only my poor tongue-tied condition were remedied, so that I might use that organ as it should be used, I could release an Octave, eight little fellows who beneath my tongue are now held captive; but who, if they were only free, are possessed of such astounding and never-ending ability, as to be able to produce a succession of the most musical notes, the like of which have never before been heard.’

“Here he sighed most mightily, and then it was that I saw he rested in the opening of a shell that is called a ‘conch.’

“ ‘But,’ said I, ‘how am I to loose your tongue? I am no surgeon, neither have I a knife or other cutting instrument wherewith to perform the operation. Besides, would you not die if such an unpractised hand as mine attempted so delicate a task?’

“ ‘Not at all!’ he replied, in his soft, slow tone; ‘I should certainly die away just as an echo does when fleeing into space; but it really would not hurt me, I assure you!’

“Still feeling very puzzled, however, I sought for further information, and so said to him, ‘But where and how did you become possessed of all these sweet-sounding notes which you claim your Octave can produce with such never-ending brilliance and variety? And further, supposing I were willing to assist you in the direction you desire, having no knife, as I told you before, is there any other way in which I could safely render you the service that you seek?’

“Instantly he brightened, and, speaking as fast as his poor tongue-tied condition would permit, this is what he replied:

“ ‘These notes that I am simply yearning to release I have carefully gathered together over millions of years! They have come to me from the Ocean and the Breeze, and, as they came, I classified and arranged them. Over me, throughout those infinite ages, the tumbling seas have tossed and the careless winds have blown! But always, whenever a new note I heard, I promptly seized upon it and stored it with the rest, and as it is tens of thousands of years since last I added to my collection, I am now fully satisfied that there are no fresh notes to be obtained.

“ ‘As to the way in which you can assist me, please hold me up to face the wind, or, better still, blow upon me strongly with your breath, and all will be well.’

“So, obedient to his desire, I picked him up in my two hands, and holding him firmly, blew sharply and strongly upon him with my breath, and, true enough, just as he had predicted, out came eight little fellows who called themselves ‘Semi-Breves,’ dancing and jumping about on my hands in the utmost glee!

“All at once they started singing, ‘Blow again! Blow again!’ and so amused was I with their caperings and cries that I blew upon them just as I had blown upon Breve, whom I thereupon let fall.

“In the flash of an eye my hands filled to overflowing with any number of other little fellows, who called themselves ‘Minims,’ ‘Crotchets,’ ‘Quavers,’ and ‘Semi-Quavers,’ and I know not what beside. And they laughed such pretty rippling laughter that I felt constrained to join them. Yet, almost before I could utter a sound, some of them popped into my mouth, and to my utter astonishment, I found my hard, dry laughter had become almost as musical as their own.

“Whilst still more or less amazed at this delightful discovery, a skylark and a nightingale, attracted by the sweet sounds, came up to listen to what was taking place. ‘Here,’ said I, ‘take some of these for yourselves!’ and I threw to each of them a few of the notes just as they started to speak. Both were nearly choked as the notes went flying down their throats, but when they next essayed to speak they sang instead, and the music in their voices was of such a quality as to leave the listeners spellbound with delight.

“These extraordinary happenings gave me a great idea. Calling to my aid the idling Winds, I said to them, ‘Take from me these glorious notes; spread them far and wide; leaving some where’er you sink to rest, and giving some to all who care to take them. Be swift, and see to it that your task is well performed!’

“Happily the winds were willing to obey my orders; and so, to the uttermost ends of the Universe there was taken a measure of Music’s notes. And to every class and kind of living thing was offered a share. A very few refused the munificent gift, and so spend their lives in stony silence.

“But the great majority accepted, some, the singers, to improve their voices; others, the players upon instruments, to add to the deftness of their fingers and the delicacy of their touch; others, again, such as the Nightingale, the Bul-bul, and the Skylark, to fill the night or morning with their glorious mother melodies, to the great delight of all who pause to hear!”

Thus ended the Story, and so was brought to a happy conclusion the ceremonies and the entertainments connected with the marriage festivities.

The Band then struck up the Fairies’ National Anthem, and as all stood up whilst King Waratah and Queen Wattle Blossom passed slowly and smilingly down the room, there began for the Royal couple such a wonderful career of love and happiness that even to this day it is the pride and joy of Austral Fairyland!

“They, the children of the sky,

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

To the moon—their mother—came one happy summer night.”