profession can men and women be found so ready to aid a
colleague in distress. Take the case of poor Robert Franz, for
instance, who lost his hearing through the whistle of a locomotive,
and thereby lost his professional income, and was brought to the verge
of starvation because his stupid contemporaries (I mean ourselves)
refused to buy his divine songs. Hardly had his misfortune become
known when Liszt, Joachim, and Frau Magnus arranged a concert tour for
his benefit which netted $23,000, and insured him comfort for the rest
of his life.

And in general, let me ask, why is it that, whenever a charitable
project is organized, musicians are invariably called upon first to
give their services? Does not this amount to an eloquent and universal
presumption that musical people are generous and kind-hearted?

Nor is this the only kind of presumption indicating that music
commonly goes hand in hand with kindness. The English in the days of
Elizabeth, as Chappell tells us, "had music at dinner, music at
supper, music at weddings, music at funerals, music at night, music at
dawn, music at work, music at play. He who felt not, in some degree,
its soothing influence, was viewed as a morose unmusical being, whose
converse ought to be shunned, and regarded with suspicion and
distrust." That this was the general sentiment in England is also
proved by the oft-quoted passage in "The Merchant of Venice," where
Shakspere notes the magic effect of music on men and animals, and
concludes with the verses--

"The man that hath no music in himself
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus;
Let no such man be trusted."

This, of course, is a poetic exaggeration, for we know that there are
other sources of refinement besides music, and that some of the
noblest men and women can hardly tell two tunes from one another.
Nevertheless, the general presumption remains that music and jolly
good-nature go together, and that music is incompatible with crime. An
experience I once had in Switzerland brought home this fact to my mind
in a forcible manner. I was taking a fortnight's tramp, all alone, and
one day I came near the summit of a mountain pass where, some time
previously, a solitary tourist had been robbed and murdered. There was
no house within five miles, and I had not met a soul that morn