of music will be spread for their delectation, and that they will be
afforded a comprehensive view of the art of tone as it exists today. In
this respect the Exposition's musical "exhibit" is similar in its scope
to the revealments in all its other departments; for the Exposition is
avowedly devoted to contemporaneous rather than historic achievements.

Nothing that extends contemplation over a wider period than the last
five years is admitted for competitive exhibition. The modern composer,
no less than the modern inventor, is having his day at the Exposition.
This is as it should be. We are hearing, have heard, or will hear, the
last utterances of present-day musical creators. Indeed, in the case of
one--Saint-Saens--we heard, as I have recounted, two massive
compositions written expressly for the Panama-Pacific International
Exposition, and John Philip Sousa has bent his most martial mood to the
composition of an inspiring march which is called "Panama." But music
also enjoys a privilege not accorded equally to any other department of
Exposition display. The works of the past, as well as the present, are
given. A history of music at the Exposition properly written--as one
surely should be--would be an epitome of the evolution of the art from
Cherubini, Haydn and Bach to Richard Strauss, Saint-Saens and Debussy.
It would involve in its telling the stories of music in Italy, Germany,
Austria, England, France, Russia, Scandinavia, yes, and America, too! It
would include an account of the genealogy of the modern orchestra as
exemplified in the Boston Symphony or the Official Symphony, and of
military bands up to the perfected concert organizations headed by a
Sousa or a Gabriel Pares. It would embrace with like inclusiveness the
history of the pipe organ through its stages of evolution from the
ponderous instruments with men straddling unwieldy bellows to the marvel
installed in Festival Hall, and it would embrace the history of the art
of organ music up to such exemplars as our own Clarence Eddy, John &.