The Tell-Tale Heart - The Pioneer, January 1843 — reading text

and the next, Osman, with Miriam in approached, and inquired in Turkish, his arms, was rushing rapidly down a narrow ‘* Who is there? ”’ street, pursued by three horsemen, who over- Osman Aga’s reply was in English. ‘* A took him just as he gained the entrance of a friend — a countryman — open quickly, for the small alley, into which he turned. It being love of God—I am in danger, and require too narrow to admit their horses, his pursuers shelter.”’ dismounted, and two of them followed him with The door was immediately opened, and Os- diawn scimetars. Impeded by the weight of man and Miriam entered and were received with Miriam, he was soon overtaken. He suddenly cordiality, mingled with wonder and curiosity, stopped and turned upon the Cireassians, one of by an extremely mild and intelligent looking whom, as he called upon Osman to surrender, man of middle age, dressed in European cos- received the contents of his remaining pistol. tume. He was the head of the English mis- The other, dismayed by the fall of his comrade, sion which had been for some time established and unprovided with fire-arms, did not deem it in Bagdad. Osman soon explained the situa- prudent to encounter alone, one of the most re- tion of himself and his fair companion, and doubted swordsmen of Asia, and hastily re- solicited an asylum for them both until they gained the street where he had left his horse. could effect their escape from the city. This Osman pursued his way unmolested for a was readily granted, and the result of the con- short distance, until he arrived at one of the ference was, that before morning, Osman Aga entrances of the great bazaar, where he found was united in marriage by the rites of the Pro- a masterless steed, whose rider had doubtless testant church, to Miriam, the daughter of Bo- fallen in the recent battle, quietly drinking from gos, the Armenian. SONNET. BY J. R. LOWELL. Our love is not a fading earthly flower ; Its winged seed dropt down from paradise, And nursed by day and night, by sun and shower, Doth momently to fresher beauty rise : To us the leafless autumn is not bare, Nor winter’s rattling boughs lack lusty green, Our summer hearts make summer’s fulness where No leaf or bud or blossom may be seen : For nature’s life in love’s deep life doth lie, Love — whose forgetfulness is beauty’s death, Whose mystic key these cells of thou and I Into the infinite freedom openeth, And makes the body’s dark and narrow grate The wide-flung leaves of heaven’s palace-gate. VOL. I.-- NO. I.  26 THE PIONEER. ACADEMY OF MUSIC—BEETHOVEN’S SYMPHONIES. BY J. S. DWIGHT. Tue concerts of the Academy decidedly take while our people will enjoy the most exalted of the lead in our musical entertain wots ‘this social pleasures, in listening together to that winter. This speaks better of the progress of sublimest and most intimate language of the art among us, than any fact which has yet been soul, the sound of which wakes chords within announced. At length we have seen the great each one of us which are deeper than all diffe- Odeon crowded from floor to ceiling with all rence, and make us feel a divine relationship. the best and most appreciating life of Boston, Rarely is there an assembly, where all are so of Cambridge too, and the other suburbs, not lifted above themselves, and made to forget to hear some famous virtuoso, who would feign their selfish partialities, where one electric persuade you that there is more in his fingers thrill so runs from heart to heart, where the than in Handel's or in Mozart’s soul ; but really hardened and the prematurely old are so sur- lending respectful, and, if looks deceive not, prised into the joy and open-heartedness of rapt attention to the sublime orchestral works childhood, where the word “ disinterested ’’ of Beethoven. Who, even of enthusiasts for becomes so much a felt reality, and where the art, would have looked for this so soon? We one spirit which is in us all, despite our diffe- had thought that Henry Russell ‘‘ et id genus rences of opinion, taste and character, so wells omne’’ had long ago stolen the hearts of our up from the bottom of every mind, like fixed august public ; but it seems they beat again in air, and gives us a never-to-be-forgotten glimpse the right place, and, sick of dazzling novelties, of the fact that we are nearer to each other now find delight in the genuine, the enduring, than we knew, whether argument and doctrine the all-satisfying, yet never to be understood have yet reached so far or not, — as an assem- and exhausted works of real genius. Once the bly on whom Beethoven and the orchestra have very few had almost to apologize for daring to begun to work. Music answers the soul's admire Beethoven, for showing pedantic prefe- deepest craving for expression more nearly than rence for names gone by, like Handel and the any other language, not excepting poetry or mighty line of tone-prophets which he led. prayer ; while at the same time it is the most Three years since, the noble orchestra of our exquisite thing yet found for entertainment or Academy played to bare walls. Last year they excitement ; thus reconciling what a blind mo- found ‘* fit audience, tho’ few,’’ — an audience rality esteems the two opposite tendencies in constant to the last, till all in a manner knew man, and speaking to the whole of him. And each other, and in spite of the vulgar separating when we consider that music is the peculiar cares of the day, felt the bonds of a certain art of this last century, that more of the high- high and pure friendship knit between them by est kind of genius has been employed of late the spell of those sublime harmonies, associated in music than in any art or literature, that the so with the sight of each other’s faces, — faces more it is understood, the more is it felt to be, which the music caused ‘to glow with the best — the fact becomes one of great significance for expression which they ever wore. This cre- the future development of humanity. ated a permanent demand. And now, it being This thought must be unfolded when we known where taste and character betake them- have room. We must speak now of the music. selves, the great army of followers and fash- At the time we write, the Academy has given ionables can no longer keep away — (indeed, two concerts. The second and the fifth sym- any one sees, in looking round upon such an phony of Beethoven formed the great feature audience, that, given one half of it, you may in each. Of these in due time. Westop now ap BERR ge TR os be sure to have the other), and the multitudes to try to do justice to the rest of the entertain- of hearers pouring in, wave after wave, en- ment, which was all good. The bill of fare croach upon the stage, and barely leave the contained no piece which could not be esteemed gt he players room to draw a fiddle-bow. So much classic, and worth studying as well as hearing. for having faith enough in the power of genius To say the least, there was nothing offen- to enforce a response from every.soul ; so much sive, no ridiculous bathos, from beginning to for bringing forward the best always, without end. Even the few songs which might be sup- stooping to please a vulgar taste, trusting that posed to ‘* sing small’? — too trivial even for the crowd will come round to it at last. For diversion — hetween noble symphonies and over- this the Academy deserve the thanks of all tures, were sterling compositions, and delivered who reverence art. Let them persevere in this in a pure, chaste style, which showed that the course, and the noble works of musical genius two gentlemen who sang them, (and whom, by will find a warm and faithful home in Boston, way of encouragement to native talent, it was ————————  . ~e = ACADEMY OF MUSIC—BEETHOVEN’S SYMPHONIES. 27 certainly well for the Academy to bring out), It is the joy and triumph of no common mind. have been cultivating something more than a It is no light-hearted cheerfulness. ‘Theggran- voice, and seeking something more than vulgar deur and depth and unutterable wealth of inward applause. ‘Then there was each time a solo on experience, and uncontainable aspiration, of one the violin, by