Produced by Jessica Hope




The Washington Peace Carillon




A Brochure Issued by Lovers of the Bells and Dedicated to Others of
Their Kind.  Done in the Interest of a Greater Washington.

[Illustration: Re-engraved from Belgian Towers Calendar Courtesy of
William Gorham Rice]

Ghent

Whose carillon of 52 bells has given joy to many thousands.  In
December, 1814, these bells rang out at the signing of the treaty of
peace between the United States and Great Britain, and but for the
outbreak of the great war, would in 1914 have celebrated the completion
of a hundred years of unbroken peace between the two nations.

A PEACE CARILLON [*]

[*] Published originally in the _Boston Transcript_ for Nov. 29, 1918,
and subsequently appearing in many other publications, including the
_Washington Star_, Dec. 1, and the _Literary Digest_ of Dec. 14,
following.

By

J. Marion Shull


Silent are the church towers of Flanders and Artois, the belfries of
Douai and Bruges.  They have been robbed of their treasures, those
bells that for hundreds of years have pealed forth the hopes and
aspirations of the surrounding countryside.  These bells have suffered
desecrations, their noble metal recast for purposes of war and their
erstwhile melodious tongues constrained to speak the raucous tones of
battle in behalf of barbarian hosts.  But now that it is within our
power let us give them back to civilization.  From the metal of
captured enemy cannon let there be cast the most wonderful _carillon_
of bells of which the world's best makers are capable, and let these
be duplicated in sufficient numbers that the capital city of each of
the great allied nations may be provided with a set of these "peace
bells."

The architects of all the world would vie with one another to see that
in each of these cities should arise a magnificent bell tower to house
this _carillon_, a splendid example of fitting architecture, worthy of
the theme commemorated.  No doubt, some modern Giotto would emerge to
give the world a masterpiece in stone, which would gather to itself
tradition from the past and build tradition for the years to come.
Incorporate within its walls, perhaps, some block from shattered Rheims,
from Amiens and Arras; another from the ruined treasures of Louvain, and
so perpetuate the glory of those sacred heaps of stone now tumbled in
confusion by the ruthless hand of hate.  Then, too, some village on
the Marne, where first the invading hosts were halted and turned back,
might honor thus and in its turn be honored by one memorial stone in
this great monument to peace.

Bells have been cast from cannon in the past.  More than two hundred
years ago, in 1710, the Emperor Joseph I, of Austria, had a great bell
cast from Turkish cannon and placed in the tower of St. Stephen's at
Vienna.  This, known as the emperor bell, weighed seventeen tons.
But this, although it symbolized a triumph of the Christian over the
Turk, was also meant to glorify the emperor's military might.  It
spoke of insolent pride, not peace and good will, and furnished an
example for Emperor William in 1873.  Read now the arrogant
inscription that winds in three encircling lines about this
later emperor bell, so named in honor of Emperor William, who had it
cast from twenty cannon taken from the French in 1870, and hung in
the tower of Cologne Cathedral.  The original is in Latin, but is
translated thus:

"William, the most illustrious Emperor of Germany and King of Prussia,
in pious remembrance of the heavenly aid granted him in the fortunate
course and conclusion of the last French war, has ordered, after the
restoration of the German empire, a bell to be cast from the captured
cannon, of the weight of 50,000 pounds, which is to be suspended in the
house of God, now nearly completed.  In accordance with this pious
desire of the victorious prince, the society formed for the completion
of the cathedral has caused it to be cast, under Roman Pontiff Pius IX
and the Archbishop of Cologne, Paul Melchers, in the year of our Lord
1874."

And underneath the German imperial coat of arms occurs this verse, here
freely translated:

     "Emperor" Bell I am named,
     The Emperor's name make famed.
       On holy ward I stand
       For German Fatherland.
     I pray, God grant it hence
     Peace, welfare, and defense.

Was it with something of intuitive appreciation of Prussian character on
the part of the designer of this bell that the six arms that form the
crown are decorated with angels' heads above, and end where they join
the bell in lions' feet?  Why, a whole sermon could be preached on this
alone!  The saintly, sacred, outward seeming, but, underlying all, the
Beast!  And did those lions' claws but typify the grasping spirit of the
Prussian war-lord?  And the bell, France, that he would grasp entire and
sway or strike at will?  Perhaps even then some Fate foresaw the
jangling discord of the last few years and as a symbol and a prophecy
caused the great bell to come from the founder's hand C-sharp instead
of C, and, therefore, not in tune with the other bells of the cathedral!

Again, in 1887, no less than twenty-two French guns were used to cast
the "Gloriosa," another great bell that was raised with much ceremony
to its place in Cologne Cathedral, there to join the "Emperor" bell in
a clangorous derision of defeated and humiliated France.

We hold Cologne, at least until the acceptance of our terms of peace by
the now defeated Germany.  Why should we not exact the restitution of
these bells to now triumphant France?  War-lust created them, and thus
far they have known no other theme than praise of their creator.  Let's
melt them down and give them back to France, recast for nobler use and
given tongues of peace; or break them into bits and let a portion go to
each and every one of our Peace _carillons_, there to proclaim
throughout the world the triumph of a great and glorious cause.

Imagine, then, these _carillons_ complete and carried high aloft within
their towers, there to speak forth from year to year the nation's joys
and sorrows; a pæan of thanksgiving now; again a vesper service soft
and sweet, or, when we pay our loving tribute to the nation's dead, a
solemn dirge shall waft across the river and like a benediction fall
upon the hushed and reverent throng.  On every state occasion they
would  serve; at our inaugurals, give farewell thanks to the departing
president and loyal greetings to the newly chosen chief; do homage to
the great of foreign lands and ring glad welcome when they come to us
from overseas; would celebrate the nation's birth with jubilant peal
on peal; and on the anniversary of that November day that marked the
final triumph of Humanity, let there be rung from all the capitals a
grand _Te Deum_ of World Brotherhood.

And so in fancy let us dedicate these _carillons_ to Peace, and say with
Tennyson:

     Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
       The flying cloud, the frosty light;
       The year is dying in the night;
     Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

     Ring out a slowly dying cause,
       And ancient forms of party strife;
       Ring in the nobler modes of life,
     With sweeter manners, purer laws.

       .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .

     Ring out false pride in place and blood,
       The civic slander and the spite;
       Ring in the love of truth and right,
     Ring in the common love of good.

     Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
       Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
       Ring out the thousand wars of old,
     Ring in the thousand years of peace.




A MEMORIAL BUILDING WITH BELL TOWER AND PEACE CARILLON.


A CONCRETE STATEMENT LOOKING TO THE PRACTICAL DEVELOPMENT OF THE IDEA
PRESENTED IN THE FOREGOING PAGES:


OBJECT:  It is here proposed that in the city of Washington there shall
be erected a national memorial to commemorate the heroes and events of
the great war, seeking to keep the chief emphasis on the esthetic and
moral side rather than on that of physical triumph of armed force.

DESCRIPTION:  A memorial building of monumental architectural
proportions, to include as an essential embellishment a bell-tower at
least 200 feet high to the bells and of sufficient lateral dimensions to
provide a bell-chamber 25 feet square.

COST OF MEMORIAL BUILDING:  It is proposed that the cost shall not
exceed $5,000,000, to be appropriated by an Act of Congress for such
purpose.  (If the memorial were in the form of a bell-tower only, the
cost should be between one and two million dollars.)

DESCRIPTION OF CARILLON:  This should consist of about 50 perfectly
tuned bells, giving a range of four octaves or thereabout, and a
complete playing mechanism for both concert and automatic play.

MATERIAL FOR BELLS:  Copper to the extent of 60,000 pounds, sufficient
for a carillon of 50 bells, would be derived from captured enemy war
materials.  (In the absence of bronze cannon among the American
captures, this copper would be obtainable from 86,000 pounds of
shell-cases, to be furnished by the War Department at the direction of
Congress.)  The requisite tin, some 15,000 pounds, might best be
supplied under terms of contract by the bell founders.

COST OF CARILLON:  Such a carillon complete with playing mechanism
would be obtainable at a cost not exceeding $40,000.

USES: Such a memorial would afford ample opportunity for every type of
memorial treatment: Architecture, sculpture, inscription, tablet, mural
painting, and the housing of relics and records etc.; in fact possess
every advantage that an arch or other memorial structure could possibly
give and avoid the objectionable sentiment that many people feel toward
the triumphal arch idea.

Music, whether played automatically or by hand, is always under control
and can be played soft or loud as the bell-master may decide.  Some
wonderful snatch of melody would play automatically morning and evening
or during the noon hour, changed from time to time for the sake of
variety or to suit the particular season, while on one evening each
week the bell-master would present a formal concert.

LOCATION:  A memorial of this kind should be well in the midst of the
city, that many might enjoy its music by the mere opening of a window
or a door, and that other thousands might have ready access to concerts
without long journeys for that purpose.  (As many as 30,000 people are
said to have gathered for a concert of this kind at Malines, Belgium.)
Preferably, tho not necessarily, such a building should be on elevated
ground, and near sufficient open space such as a park would afford, to
accommodate large numbers of people who would gather for the concerts.
Many have suggested Sixteenth Street Park as an ideal setting for it.

AS A BUSINESS ASSET:  While most people will prefer to dwell upon its
esthetic and cultural values, finding in it a never ending source of
inspiration, it will not be amiss to consider it as a business asset as
well.  It is doubtful whether a single additional visitor or resident
would be drawn to Washington by reason of the erection here of ever so
fine a triumphal arch or other similar memorial.  On the other hand a
memorial such as is here proposed would, by reason of its unique
character in America, and by virtue of its excellence, soon become an
appealing object of interest in every village and town thruout the
United States, and be the means of drawing many thousands of additional
visitors to the capital and holding them longer once they were here.
It could undoubtedly be made the greatest single attraction in this
city of attractions.




THE FIRST CONCERT

A FORECAST

By

J. Marion Shull


It is evening.  Within the park are gathered many thousands from the
Capital.  Not only these but many hundreds from outside as well, for
on this night in May the world's most famous master of the bells is
to present the initial concert on Washington's great Carillon.

For long the unsightly mingled mass of stone and steel and wood that
crowned the hill had given little indication of its ultimate intent.
From time to time processions came that seemed to the onlooker like
pilgrimages to some sacred shrine; Tri-color and the Stars and
Stripes in front, to music of the Marseillaise, is brought a stone from
shattered Rheims, the gift of France, whose gift of freedom to the
world we thus record.  From the Argonne, from Chateau Thierry and St.
Mihiel, come other stones escorted by our own brave boys.  These each,
with fitting ceremony, are builded in the wall of our memorial.  Then
there are other stones from Arras, Amiens, and villages along the
Marne where broke the surging wave that all but overwhelmed the world;
one from Verdun inscribed "They shall not pass"; and Belgium's king
pays tribute from the ruined treasures of Louvain.  And so in after
years the pilgrims at this shrine shall read, passing from stone to
stone, an epic of heroic sacrifice that justice and the love of
fellow man might not be swept forever from the earth.

The cumbering tools of industry, the cranes with creaking ropes, the
scaffolding, at last have disappeared, and stands revealed a wondrous
work of art: A sturdy sculptured basal edifice where bronze and marble
tell of noble aspirations worthily achieved; where frieze and pediment
in low relief bespeak the glory of the greatest cause man ever
struggled to maintain.  Within, resplendent walls with iridescent
colors where the artist's brush takes up the tale that architect and
sculptor have begun; and rivalling these the silken folds of flags,
emblems of all the nations that stood shoulder to shoulder in the great
emprise.  And from this basal structure, the soaring shaft, compact of
grace and beauty, lithe yet strong, firm footed on the earth yet
reaching heavenward, well typifies the spirit of the men who risked
their all to save the world from slavery.

The sun has set behind light banks of cloud and hung the stage with
ruddy tapestries whose gorgeous reds and golds are interspersed with
turquoise.  But even while the throng in wonderment looks on, change
follows change, the gold to topaz quickly melts, the roseate clouds
are all empurpled, and the turquoise sky gives way to grays such as
delighted Whistler in his day.  Then twilight, stars, and a pale young
moon, to play at hide and seek among the wisps of cloud whose silvery
sheen betrays her hiding place.

At last the hour has struck and all is hushed expectancy.  All eyes are
lifted up to where a faintly lighted window in the tower gives forth
the one suggestion that some human agency is there.  Hark!  What is
that?  A faint sweet sound that comes from out the sky as if the gates
of heaven had opened and let fall ethereal voices from a thousand
miles, so soft, the ear is strained to intercept them, and fancy is
half tempted to believe it all illusive and imagined melody.  But now
it takes more shape, stands out more firm and clear; the ear becomes
more confident, and fancy yields to fact; it is indeed the carillon's
voice; the bells have come to life.  No gasping natal cry is this, but
rather the soft stirring as of one that wakes from peaceful sleep.
Nearer and ever nearer, wave on wave, out of infinite distance seem to
come those far off melodies, drifting down and down as gently as drifts
the snow when winds are hushed, till at last the entire heavens seem
filled with one pulsating ecstasy of sound, then fades away into the
distance once again, till tower, bells, musician, forgotten one and
all, the music seems to come from mystic space behind yon bank of cloud
that lies athwart the moon.  Again, a sound of trampling hosts of
mighty horsemen rushing down the heights as if to overwhelm the
listening multitude, those marvellous arpeggios galloping madly in
their course, now dance and prance, now rush impetuously, then lift and
fade to airy nothingness and silence.

A moment's pause; some silent, unseen hand has swiftly changed the
scene, and now there comes a barcarolle, so sweet, so placid, while the
ear perceives the eye beholds, a wide expanse of rippling wavelets
neath shimmering moonlight of a summer night.  One feels upon the cheek
the soft caress of summer airs nor knows for certainty if it be true or
only fancied, but presently the winds have risen and, is it felt, or is
it only heard, the rhythmic rocking of the boat that lulls the spirit
with a tender lullaby?  But what was that?  A far away, intrusive
rumbling breaks the spell and many eyes are turned to scan the gray
horizon for sign of coming storm; but all is fair, no flash of
lightning, no banks of inky clouds.  Instead of distant thunder there
is now the booming sound of waves that beat themselves to spray against
the rocks; and to those ears most well attuned, above the deep toned
bass, in higher bells is heard the counterpart of that same spray,
light effervescence of the master's art.  At length the current leaps
and bounds, in grand crescendo, irresistibly, and pours itself in one
torrential rush of sheer descent, a veritable Niagara of sound that
holds the audience spellbound in its grasp.  Then turbulent uproar and
dissonance give way to chords of fullest harmony and once again is
heard the theme of rocking waves all placid as at first.

The concert closes with the National Air, as is our wont, but played as
never had it been played before on our own soil, the clear, pure tones
dropping from high aloft as shaken from the very folds of our bright
emblem there, each scintilant note a star, flung off in ecstasy, to
bear a message to the ears of men, of peace on earth, but peace with
freedom still.

The last vibration dies away and in its place a half reluctant murmur
from the throng, as if they fain would leave the spell unbroken, now
swells in volume and resolves itself into the myriad sounds of
congregated life; a babel of voices full of wonderment that metals
snatched from war's accouterments could ever speak like that; full
also of the thought that Washington, enriched by this new art, new to
America tho old elsewhere, is destined thereby to become the Mecca of
many a music-lover's pilgrimage from every nook and corner of the
land.






End of Project Gutenberg's The Washington Peace Carillon, by J. Marion Shull