Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 4, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 October 1874 — A Musical Prodigy. [ARTICLE]

A Musical Prodigy.

Thk world knows by heart how the ■divine Mozart astonished theorists by the early development of his musical gift and by the latest triumphs of his Jgenius. He played the piano accurately at three years of age; composed at six, and conducted the performance of his masses at twelve. He enjoyed in this respect a prominence not gained by any other of the great masters. I have just had a half-hour’s interview with a modern Mozart—a little girl, who may some day imitate her great prototype and give to the world what is now scarcely known, music composed by a woman 80 far as her little hfe has gone she is more than equal to Mozart. She will be five years old Oct. 8. At the age of seven months, when placed within reach of the key-board of a piano, her thumbs went down on the keys in a manner that brought no discord, and she manifested unmistakable delight at the sounds produced. After that the piano became her favorite amusement. Site was placed before it and allowed to play for hours at a time. Her parents observed with delight and wonder that she soon had method in her playing, and that she understood harmony.’ When two years old she composed music. At three she had made rapid progress, and now at five she evinces no abatement of the keenness of her musical mind. Her name is Rose Mansfield Eversole. She is the daughter of Dr. A. C. Eversole, now living in Dayton. Her mother is a music teacher, and has an inherited talent for music. Dr. Eversole knows music by study, but has no particular natural aptness for it. This is their only child. She is as sweet and pretty as a blonde, lithe and graceful in form, with fair silk-" •en hair, largi, expressive blue eyes, and a Sappy though thoughtful face. Her attainments in general knowledge are scarcely less remarkable than her musical genius. When she was sixteen months old she learned the alphabet in a few days, and was delighted, on being carried along the street, to spell out the signs. A year ago-she could read well enough to read to her father the yellowfever news in the papers, in which he was much interested. She knows the names of all the States and can tell their relative location. She is also well versed in European geography. All this she dinary way. Her father gives her no tasks, he only answers her questions. Her knowledge of geography was obtained from inspection of 'an atlas. Whenever she hears any city or place mentioned she goes to her atlas to locate it, and thereafter she remembers where it is. She talks with a freedom and clearness that show the superior quality of Her mind and the unusual quantity of knowledge stored in her young head. She is quite at ease in talking with strangers. A physician was introduced to her in my presence, when the following dialogue ensued: Physician—l am a doctor, Rose, like your father. How do you like the medical profession? Rose (quietly)—Oh, I don’t like it at all. Physician—Well, it is rather a hard life. I suppose you like better to be a musician: , ... _x—_ Rose—Yes, I always did. Physician— You mean you have always liked it since you were a little girl* Rose—No, sir, I mean I always liked it when l was a little girl. Physician—Not when you were a little •baby? Rose- Of course not. I only had fat. chubby hands when 1 was a baby, ami couldn’t play at all. Physician—This gentleman by my side, Rose, is a newspaper man. 1 read his productions every day. Rose—Do you* 1 should think you would rather read your own. Physician—l do not write, neither do I sing. 1 don’t know •• Old Hundred” from ■“ Yankee Doodle." Rose—l do. —Her father uses language in talks to her that would puzzle most children of much larger growth. But with all her wisdom she manifests a wholesome childish love of play. While playing on the piano her eyes would sparkle as she followed the rompings of children in the roam. Her playing is not by any means brilliant —how could it be when her little tfeet dangle hopelessly high above reach of the pedals, and her arms are quite too short to stretch across the key-board* The wonder is that she can play at all at .such an age. She plays almost anything that she has heard, but her genius isshown in a stronger light by the music which she produces from her own brain. She is an indefatigable composer. Sometimes for an hour her fingers wander over the keys, not aimlessly, but with the faultless touch of a true musician bringing out her childish musical fancies. She never commits a musical sin. Her harmonies are always perfect.

During my interview with her, her father asked her to play a march. He had previously asked her to improvise—using that word—and she played some beautiful little arpeggios. At "his request for a march of her own she instantly began a march of exquisite beauty. After a while her father asked her “to put a little minor in it.’’ In an instant she complied, blending the theme she had chosen into a minor passage without losing a bar.” 1 ' She played also a little waltz, composed as she played it, besides playing in my hearing “"Home, Sweet Home,’’ “ A ankee Doodle,” the march from “ Norma” and other compositions. She likewise sang a song which she composed for a little poem in the nursery. In all her playing she uses both hands, as any one else would, but she never looks at the right hand; that finds its place intuitively, while she has sometimes to look for the fingering of her left hand. But the most remarkable feature of her musical gift is her intuitive knowledge of pitch. She seems to know with certainty the exact pitch of any musical tone she hears. A gentleman" sounded with his voice a . note and she instantly touched the key corresponding to it. When asked how she knew what key to touch, she answered “By heart.” "Her father says he was whistling an andante in one of Beethoven’s compositions in her hearing, a few days ago, when she looked at him and said, ‘‘ Papa, you are whistling that tune in F, and it is written in C.” He didn’t know in what key he was whistling it, and went to the piano to see. As he was going Rose cried out, “Nearly F, papa. I heard a little sparkle of Fin it.” He found there was a “little sparkle of F,” as his key was but a slight shade below E. Thje little wonder is not being pushed. Her father seems to be a man of sense, and he declares she shall not be crammed. The greatest danger he fears

is the annoyance of curious people wanting to see and hear the prodigy.—Cincinnati Cor. Chicago Times.