Edward MacDowell | Page 7

very sure to tell you, "Leisure for
work!" And after that, the strongest desire is for the companionship of
some one who really understands what he is trying to do.
His good angel must have led Edward MacDowell to Peterboro. I can
imagine no other setting so perfect for the last act of his life, with its
shifting scenes. Whatever else the great power back of the universe
may be, He is the Master Artist, and in the making of this village of
enchantment He seems to have gathered together all His most beautiful
materials and combined them with lavish hand. Quaint and picturesque
houses are sprinkled over the foot-hills of the Monadnock Mountains.
Green fields go down to meet clear streams of placid water, where
trailing vines and overhanging boughs make charming shadows. The
sun sparkles against great gray boulders, lichen-grown, and upon
yellow sand dunes. There are pines, larches, firs, spruces and all their
sturdy kinspeople, scattered freely that the eye may at any season be
gladdened by the sight of living green, and interspersed with these are
deciduous trees of every kind, to make a fantastic tracery of bare
branches against the wintry sky and furnish a series of beautiful
contrasts, from the earliest tender bud to the last sere autumn leaf. And
the ferns! Did the Great Artist have any left after planting the
fence-corners, roadsides and deep woods of Peterboro? Overarch these
features with a fair dome of fleece-scattered blue and waft abroad
throughout the place a succession of mountain breezes, ozone charged,
and you have a place to live and work and grow young in.
MacDowell thought that the fine arts were supplemental, each of the
other, and wished to include them all in his scheme, so well-built rustic
studios, equipped to suit the needs of the occupant, are being placed at
intervals on advantageous sites in the woods, tree-screened and far
enough apart to insure quiet and privacy, but sufficiently near to give
that comfortable sense of human comradeship and safety. There is a
common domicile at the foot of "Hill Crest," called "The Lower
House," presided over by a capable housekeeper, where the workers
sleep, breakfast, dine and recreate in the evening; but after breakfast,
provided with a simple lunch, each hies away happily to his own studio
to spend the day in alternate working and waiting on the Muses in

blissful solitude. This routine is broken sufficiently by cups of tea with
Mrs. MacDowell at "Hill Crest," rambles in garden and wood, drives
over the picturesque mountain roads and tramps to the village, to
prevent Jack from having any chance of becoming a dull boy.
The departed musician's own log cabin, already referred to as the place
where most of his later works were composed, was the first of the
studios to be built, and it would be difficult to imagine a more perfect
retreat for his purpose.
"It looks out over the whispering treetops,
And faces the setting sun,"
which glints on the bark roof, now covered with a thick shower of
fragrant brown pine needles, giving the appearance of a pre-designed
thatch.
Within, the personality of the absent composer lingers perceptibly, and
the two names--"Edward--Marian-1899"--written in his bold
chirography in the damp cement, when the cabin hearth was laid before
the open fireplace, tell a touching story of a union so real as to make no
plan complete, no realization of a long-cherished hope perfect, that did
not openly include his wife.
These two were married in New York in 1884. A gifted South Carolina
aunt, who went to New York after the war and soon made her way to
the front rank of metropolitan teachers, gave to Marian Nevins, a
country-bred girl of York State, the only musical training she ever had
until she went abroad in 1880 to pursue her studies. Edward
MacDowell was at that time in high favor with his masters, Heymann
and Raff, at the Frankfort Conservatory, and she became his pupil. Her
industry and ambition aroused his interest in the development of her
talent, and he put her through a long season of severe drill and study,
imparting to her all his original methods and personal ideals, as well as
those acquired from his masters. It was hard work between the gifted
teacher and his promising pupil, with no idea of romance; but with her
preparations for her return to America, at the expiration of three years,
came the revelation to each of the meaning of the impending separation,
and in a twelvemonth after her departure he went to New York and

returned to Germany with his bride, settling at Wiesbaden, where they
spent some ideal years. While he began his career as a composer in that
inspiring atmosphere and won a hearing and a verdict