Grantville Gazette V

  "Yes, D was next. I used an augmented sixth chord for the modulation, so it was a little tricky, but you got it, we landed in D. D is the dominant of G, right?"

  Heads nodded all over the room.

  "So now we have C, G and D. Is consonance possible in the same piece with those keys? Just possibly," she answered her own question, "just possibly. But where did we go from there?"

  No one ventured a guess.

  "Thomas, did you follow?" When he shook his head, she smiled again, and said, "Okay, I'll have mercy on you. I went from D to A, and ended in E. See the pattern in the modulations? Each time I modulated to the dominant of the previous key. I've now got five different keys in this piece, ranging from C major with no sharps or flats to E major with four sharps. Hermann," she looked at him seriously, "in the Mean system, can I have all five of those keys sound consonant in the same piece of music?"

  Franz heard her emphasis, but was glad to note that her tone of voice and her expression were both serious, that there was no sense of mocking or humor. She was treating both the topic and Hermann with respect.

  The room was quiet. No one said anything, no one even stirred until Hermann finally sighed, and said, "No, Fraulein Marla, you cannot. Your point is made."

  "But don't you see, Hermann," Marla said, "don't you see that it's not my point? This is not some dictate that I'm trying to force upon you. It's not some up-time invention or standard that I'm trying to shove down your throat. The earliest mention I could find for equal temperament goes all the way back to some guy named Grammateus in 1518—that's over one hundred years before today, for heaven's sake! Equal temperament was something that generations—your predecessors in music, your peers now, and your successors in music—all worked toward. As composers and performers alike desired more tonal complexity and sophistication in their music, as they experimented and argued amongst themselves and with their patrons, they eventually hammered out a consensus for the equal temperament system."

  Marla looked around at all of them, then said slowly, "And Hermann, it was the Germans who arrived at it first. By 1800, this was the standard in German music. It took the rest of the world at least another fifty years to catch up to you. So you see, I'm not trying to force the stream of music into an unnatural streambed, I'm not trying to force it to flow uphill. Instead, I'm trying to guide you into the natural bed for your stream, but I'm trying to guide you to it now instead of several generations later."

  Hermann muttered again. Franz saw Marla lift an eyebrow, Hermann coughed, and said, "But it still sounds discordant."

  "Of course it does," Marla laughed. "It's a result of musical diplomacy. I once heard a definition of diplomacy that goes something like this: diplomacy is the art of leaving all interested parties equally dissatisfied. That's a perfect definition of equal temperament. All keys are slightly less than consonant, but importantly, all keys are equally dissonant. Once we accept that compromise, then the full artist's palette of tonalities is available to us."

  Franz smiled at her metaphor.

  "Believe me," Marla added, "I know exactly how discordant equal temperament is. I have absolute perfect pitch, so anything less than pure consonance grates on my ear. But, I will accept the minor discomfort that equal temperament causes in order to play things like this."

  She turned to the piano again, and began a piece in 3/4 time. It lilted and danced, almost like a stream flowing over rocks. The music flowed, with waterfall-like runs in it, broadened out to a more stately theme and treatment, then returned to the original style. Marla's fingers flew, the tempo ebbed and flowed, and finally began to move faster and faster until it trailed away under the right hand in the high treble keys.

  Once again dead silence reigned in the room, until it was broken by a collective sigh from the men. Marla turned to them, and said, "That was the Waltz in C# minor by Frederic Chopin, part of his Opus 64, one of the loveliest piano pieces ever written. The key has four sharps, and it probably couldn't be played in the Mean system."

  Looking around the room, she asked, "Any questions? Any comments?"

  "Excuse me, please, Signorina," Maestro Carissimi said.

  "Yes, sir?"

  "I understand what you say, and it makes clear much that I did wonder about. But is there not a . . . how would you say . . . along side . . ."

  "Parallel?"

  "Yes! Thank you for the word. Is there not parallel issue, one of tuning, of intonation?"

  "Oh, absolutely," Marla said. She pressed a key on the piano, and a tone sounded. "That is an A, the note defined by international agreement to be the tuning standard. And there are machines and tuning forks to exhibit that standard and to measure against. That standard was arrived at almost," she looked confused for a moment, "well, what would have been almost 250 years from now. But between now and then, tuning was a local matter, usually determined by whoever built the organ in the local church or cathedral."

  "Exactly my point!" said the Italian. "In Italy, the tuning is higher, brighter than in Germanies, but even within a province, is not the same from place to place. Until a standard for all of Europe can be devised, we musicians must still adjust tuning as from place to place we go. Music written for Italian churches transcribed to other keys must be to get same sound in northern German churches, and perhaps the same if northern music to Rome or Naples is brought."

  "And that will change not so quickly," his companion said. "Musicians—especially Italians—will not like hearing that wrong are their tunings." There were murmurs of agreement from around the room, and Thomas and Hermann in particular nodded vigorously.

  "Well," Marla said, "at least we all agree that developing a standard tuning is a problem, and that it probably won't be solved soon. But do you all understand why the equal temperament is so important?"

  Heads nodded all around, and "Yes," was heard from every corner.

  Marla looked down at her watch. "Yikes! I didn't realize it was that late! This is Wednesday night, and I've got choir rehearsal at church. Okay, we'll meet again on Friday here in the school choir room. We'll finish the discussion we started last time about modes and the changeover to major and minor keys. See you then!" And in a whirlwind, she grabbed her books and was gone. Elizabeth and her guests also rose, made their farewells, and left.

  The eight young men sat quietly for a moment, as if drained of energy. Finally, Hermann looked up, and said to Franz, "Now I know what you meant. She is indeed worthy of our respect. It would be an insult to say she does not play like a woman, but when I close my eyes, all I hear is a musician of great skill and talent playing with vigor and authority."

  He sighed. "Forced to discard another preconception. Two in one day. At this rate, in another month she will have me cleaned off like a blank slate, a tabula rasa."

  "Well, I am tempted to ask if that would be such a bad thing." Thomas grinned, obviously restraining himself from crowing over Marla's victory. "But instead I will say that you at least had the advantage of knowing her first, and seeing that she did indeed posses some knowledge and skill before she unleashed the full fury of her arsenal on you. Friedrich and I, we were exposed to the full-bore power of her talent within hours of first meeting her."

  "And do not forget the hangovers," Friedrich interjected.

  "Ach, how could I forget? The memory of the thunder in my skull being matched by the thunder of her piano playing still makes me shudder!" Thomas matched actions to words. "Some time, Hermann, have her play for you the "Revolutionary Etude." Then you will see the full scope of her power, and you will truly understand why I sit at her feet."

  "But she is so young!" Josef said. "How can she be so strong, so assured,

  so . . . so . . ."

  "Authoritative?" Thomas supplied.

  "Yes, how can she be so authoritative? How can she be like a master at her age?"

  Thomas looked to Franz. "How old is she?"

  "She recently passed her twenty-first birthday, which is young but not so young. T
o us, she's of an age to be a journeyman. To the folk of Grantville, she's her own woman, to do as she pleases. Most of them know she is talented, but I believe that Master Wendell and perhaps Master Bledsoe are the only ones who truly appreciate her magnitude. Master Wendell says that if not for the Ring of Fire, he thinks she could have been one of the great ones of their time."

  He stood and walked over to look out the window. "She is driven to mastery. Her spirit, her gifts drive her to rise above her origins, her womanhood, to become a master." He turned to face them. "She will not stop until she is either broken or is acclaimed by all."

  "So if she is of age, why is she not married, as so many of the Grantvillers are?" asked Josef. "She is comely, and seems pleasant enough."

  "Hah!" snorted Rudolf, surprising everyone, since he was the most taciturn individual most of them had ever met and never volunteered anything. "No, thank you. That fraulein has sword steel for a spine, and I suspect she could out-stubborn Gustav Adolf himself. She may be a muse incarnate, a very Calliope . . ."

  "Take care," Friedrich warned.

  "Nevertheless, I fear that most men would desire someone with at least some compliance in her soul. Fraulein Marla may be doomed to a spinster's life."

  Friedrich and Thomas burst out in uproarious laughter. Friedrich actually slid out of his chair and rolled on the floor. Thomas bent over holding his stomach, howling.

  The newcomers all stared, eyes wide and jaws agape. Finally Hermann collected himself. "What is the jest?" he demanded.

  Thomas managed, by sheer willpower, to somewhat compose himself. "The jest," he wheezed, "stands there." He waved a hand at Franz. Franz waved back, smiling slightly, as Thomas continued. "Our man Franz there woos her."

  "Not just woos," Friedrich husked, levering himself into a sitting position on the floor. "Not just woos; for he has won her heart."

  The astounded expressions returned, now focused on Franz. He shrugged and said, "'Tis true."

  "Then why have you not wed, if you feel thus?" asked Hermann.

  Franz lifted his left hand, and everyone sobered. They all knew the story by now. "When I can play again in public, when I can again make my way with my violin, then I will ask her." The fire in his heart at that moment was a match for Marla's, and enough of it showed that the others actually sat back a little.

  "She assents to this? It seems somewhat unlike her," said Rudolf.

  "She knows. She agrees."

  They all looked at Franz soberly. He bore their gaze calmly, and they all saw the determination in his eyes. Finally Hermann spoke.

  "Of all men, Franz, you may be most worthy of Fraulein Marla."

  As the others nodded, Franz said quietly, "'Tis the challenge of the rest of my life, Hermann."

  Gigue

  Grantville

  A few days later

  "C'mon in, guys," Marla said to Franz and Isaac, holding open the door to her Aunt Susan's house. "The rest of the group is already here." She led them into the living room, where the only seats left open were the hard wooden chairs that had been brought in from the dining room. The sofa and easy chairs had already been claimed. Thomas, Hermann and the others grinned at them from the soft seats as Marla's aunt bustled around handing out glasses of apple cider and water. Cookies were evident all around, and Thomas was almost oblivious to their entry as he blissfully devoured a slice of apple pie that must have occupied a quarter of the pie pan it came from.

  "Sit down, boys, sit down," Susan said, as she went by them on her way to the kitchen. She came back out with glasses of ice and pitchers of cider and water and set them down on the coffee table in front of them. "Fill up with whichever you like," came back over her shoulder as she returned to the kitchen once more.

  She reappeared carrying another plate of cookies, which Isaac took from her with alacrity, fending off hands that reached toward it from those who had been there before him.

  "Away with you, jackals," he mock-snarled, holding the plate out of their reach. "'Tis bad enough that you usurp the chief places, leaving poor Franz and myself to set our nether portions on the hardest seats. 'Tis not enough that you have already wreaked destruction upon good Frau Garrett's provisions. But when she takes pity on poor Franz and myself and brings forth the fruits of her labors to revive us, you attempt to acquire them as well. Nay," he laughed, leaning away from Hermann, "nay, you will not have them. Look to your own!"

  "But there are only crumbs here," Hermann whined.

  "Then lick the platters clean," Franz weighed in, taking a handful of cookies from Isaac's plate, "for you'll have none of ours."

  He took a bite, and the expression that came over his face rivaled that on Thomas', who had finished his pie and was now diligently scraping his plate clean and licking the fork.

  Franz stood and bowed to Susan. "Frau Garrett, once again you have demonstrated your command of the baker's art, and produced what might be a model for the ambrosia of Olympus."

  "Enough of your foolishness, Franz Sylwester," Susan said, blushing slightly as she wiped her hands on her apron.

  Marla's aunt was indeed one of the best bakers in town, but at this point in the post-Ring of Fire existence of Grantville, she had what some in town considered an unfair advantage. Her husband, Jim, had owned and managed Garrett's Super Market when the Ring fell. As soon as she had recovered from her shock and thought through the implications of that event, she had marched right down to the store and commandeered all the spices that were left on the shelves. As a result of her foresight and her sparing use of them, she had bottles of cinnamon, nutmeg and other spices hidden away long after most of the other households in town had run out. True, spices were now available from the down-time merchants that serviced Grantville's economy, but their supplies were low in quantity and erratic in availability, which kept the prices quite high. As a consequence, in the late summer of 1634, if a baking mood settled on her, children from all around could be seen gathered around the screen door to her kitchen inhaling the aromas, and it wasn't unknown for grown men to plead for the privilege of licking her mixer beaters and bowls.

  Franz and Isaac gave testimony to Susan's skills as they wasted no time in reducing their plate to mere crumbs as well. There was silence as everyone was either chewing or chasing crumbs around their plates, obviously thinking hard about licking them, but resisting the temptation. Finally, Marla stood up.

  "Okay, guys, let's get started. English or German?"

  "English," several voices replied.

  "Good," she said, "because I'm not sure I could discuss today's topic in German.

  "I asked you to meet here today, because I needed access to a good stereo." She put her hand on a stack of black metal cabinets piled on a small table next to where she stood at the head of the room, and then pointed to some fairly large wooden boxes in the corners of the room. Franz noticed wires running from the metal cabinets to the boxes in the corners, and deduced that they must be some type of the "speakers" that were used elsewhere in Grantville to produce sound and music from the shiny silver discs called CDs. The speakers had the letters "JBL" on an emblem. He wondered what that stood for.

  A sad expression crossed Marla's face, and she said quietly, "This was my brother Paul's stereo. Before the Ring fell, he spent hours listening to it. This is the first time it's been hooked up since then."

  She fell silent for several moments, then sighed. The others waited patiently, knowing that her brother, along with her parents, had not been within the radius of the Ring when it fell. Franz in particular knew how hard she had been struck by the knowledge that she would never see them again.

  She looked up and, with an obvious effort, said, "Anyway, I want to spend tonight talking about popular music.

  "There has always been a difference between the music done for art's sake, and the music done to please the common man. You know that's true. The music you create for patrons, and I include the church in that category, is different from the music you create on street
corners and in taverns. It may be related—you know as well as I do that melodies from the street and the taverns have a way of sneaking into even the music written for the churches—but there is a definite difference in complexity between the two. The more complex the music grows, the smaller it seems the audience is who can truly appreciate it.

  "As I said, this has pretty much always been the case, but until the early 1900s the music of the streets was more of an undercurrent in the stream of music. That changed with the invention of mechanical devices that could record music played in one place onto some kind of medium, such as wax or types of plastic—" They all nodded at the reference to the magic stuff that was so prevalent in Grantville. "—or even the CDs.

  "What happened was once the average citizen could own a device that would play whatever music he wanted whenever he wanted it, he began buying the music he liked. That changed the way music was created and performed. By the 1970s, it was becoming difficult for many orchestras to exist, partly because people were buying different music than what the orchestras played, and partly because even the music the orchestras did play could be recorded, bought and played any time.