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matter, carriage, clothes--in every detail that goes to make the real
lady and gentleman, and welcome guest. We went down to the village
hotel and bought our tickets and entered the beer-hall, where a crowd
of German and Swiss men and women sat grouped at round tables with
their
beer mugs in front of them--self-contained and unimpressionable looking
people, an indifferent and unposted and disheartened audience--and up
at the far end of the room sat the Jubilees in a row. The Singers got up
and stood--the talking and glass jingling went on. Then rose and swelled
out above those common earthly sounds one of those rich chords the
secret of whose make only the Jubilees possess, and a spell fell upon
that house. It was fine to see the faces light up with the pleased
wonder and surprise of it. No one was indifferent any more; and when the
singers finished, the camp was theirs. It was a triumph. It reminded
me of Launcelot riding in Sir Kay's armor and astonishing complacent
Knights who thought they had struck a soft thing. The Jubilees sang a
lot of pieces. Arduous and painstaking cultivation has not diminished
or artificialized their music, but on the contrary--to my surprise--has
mightily reinforced its eloquence and beauty. Away back in the
beginning--to my mind--their music made all other vocal music cheap; and
that early notion is emphasized now. It is utterly beautiful, to me; and
it moves me infinitely more than any other music can. I think that in
the Jubilees and their songs America has produced the perfectest flower
of the ages; and I wish it were a foreign product, so that she would
worship it and lavish money on it and go properly crazy over it.
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