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At this remark Cowperwood surveyed her coolly, critically, and yet not unsympathetically; but she swung out of the room with a defiant air before anything could be said, and went down to the music-room, from whence a few moments later there rolled up to him from the hall below the strains of the second Hungarian Rhapsodie, feelingly and for once movingly played.
There was something doing. It was a Welsh rhapsodie that he was playing.
Bare activity would thus be predicable, though there were no definite direction, no actor, and no aim. Mere restless zigzag movement, or a wild ideenflucht, or rhapsodie der wahrnehmungen, as Kant would say, would constitute an active as distinguished from an inactive world.
"Alexandrine blue my colour the colour of hope," said Rhapsodie impressively. "It goes well with the general colour-scheme," said Cicely, feeling that she was hardly rising to the occasion. "Say, is it really true that His Majesty is coming?" asked the lively American dowager. "I've put on my nooest frock and my best diamonds on purpose, and I shall be mortified to death if he doesn't see them."
But apart from the general impulse and borrowing of motif from the foreign novel, there is in this little volume considerable that is genuine and original: the author’s German patriotism, his praise of the old days in the Fatherland in the chapter entitled “Die Gaststube,” his “Trinklied eines Deutschen,” his disquisition on the position of the poet in the world (“ein eignes Kapitel”), and his adulation of Gellert at the latter’s grave. The reviewer in the Deutsche Bibliothek der schönen Wissenschaften chides the unnamed, youthful author for not allowing his undeniable talents to ripen to maturity, for being led on by Jacobi’s success to hasten his exercises into print. In reality Bock was no longer youthful (forty-six) when the “Tagereise” was published. The Almanach der deutschen Musen for 1771, calls the book “an unsuccessful imitation of Yorick and Jacobi,” and wishes that this “Rhapsodie von Cruditäten” might be the last one thrust on the market as a “Sentimental Journey.” The Allgemeine deutsche Bibliothek comments also on the double inspiration, and the insufficiency and tiresomeness of the performance. And yet Boie says the papers praised the little book; for himself, however, he observes, he little desires to read it, and adds “What will our Yoricks yet come to? At last they will get pretty insignificant, I
He played a Rhapsodie Hongroise, the Moonlight Sonata, one of the movements of the Sonata Appassionata. He played without notes, a bulldog pipe gripped firmly in his teeth, blue clouds encircling his fair hair. Gone was the reckless soldier who would have taken his life in his hands for the whim of bringing in a German sentry.
Yes, I will return, though just when I do not yet know, and then I will assuredly play the rhapsodie." Another opportunity to see the home of an artist was afforded me when Frl. Aus der Ohe invited me to visit her in her Berlin home. She also lives in the newer western portion of the city, where so many other artists are located.
I can't stand amateurs, except one or two. I've got it into my head that you've been one of us, and retired. Queer thing, isn't it? Alma enjoyed the flattery. Comfortable in her chair, she showed no disposition to move. Dymes asked her what she thought of playing, and she told him, Hauser's 'Rhapsodie Hongroise'. 'I'm always being bored by amateurs, he resumed.
He has, I feel certain, a sense of his responsibility." "He is a nice boy," said the Grafin simply; "he has such pretty hair." In one of the window recesses Rhapsodie Pantril was talking vaguely but beautifully to a small audience on the subject of chromatic chords; she had the advantage of knowing what she was talking about, an advantage that her listeners did not in the least share.
Johnson meant when he said that whenever he saw shelves filled with books he always wanted to get near enough to them to read their titles, as the choice of books indicates character. Presently Busoni turned to me: "I am composing a rhapsodie on American Indian themes." "And where did you capture the themes?" he was asked. "From a very charming lady, a countrywoman of yours, Miss Natalie Curtis.
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