Article on life, death, and work of Stephen Foster

“On the tomb of Donizetti, in the cathedral at Bergamo, is a modest inscription saying that the dead composer was ‘a finder of many melodies.’ The simple record—too unpretending for the mertis of the Italian composer—will be particularly applicable to the late Stephen C. Foster, the song writer, who died on the 15th ult., in this city.

 […Biography beginning from early childhood…]

When seven years old young Stephen Foster showed enough musical precocity to learn, unaided, the flageolet; and later he played other instruments, though, like most composers, he was never eminent as a performer. Like Moore, he was fond of singing his own songs, and when he accompanied himself on the piano or guitar, there was a charming and plaintive sadness in his voice which touched the hearts of his listeners.

His melodies are so sweet—so simple—so unpretending—that few people supposed that he had studied music scientifically, and was familiar with the more classic works of Mozart, Beethoven and Weber. He was also a man of considerable versatility in other branches. He understood French and German, painted in water colors, was a good accountant, and wrote all the words as well as the music of his songs. These words were in style almost identical with his melodies—sweet, simple, and no worse in rhyme or rythm [sic] than the majority of popular lryics.

Geo. Willig, the popular music publisher, published his first song in 1842. [Names several of Foster’s songs published around this time.] With these Foster established his reputation as a writer of negro minstrelsy, and at the same time made considerable money, his New York publishers, Firth, Pond & Co., paying him over $15,000 on ‘Old Folks at Home’ alone—the most profitable piece of music ever published in this city. E. P. Christy paid Foster $500 for the privilege of having his name printed on one edition of this song.

During the past ten years Foster’s compositions were of a more sentimental and refined character. He dropped the burlesque negro words and wrote and composed such songs as ‘Willie, we have missed you’ [lists the more recent of Foster’s songs]. His later works exhibit greater grace and tenderness than his earlier ones; and had he lived and taken proper care of his health, he might have obtained the most enviable eminence as a musician, as it is, he had the blessed, heaven-sent gift of melody, and his compositions, if not his name, are known all over the world. Russians, Italians, Germans, French, and even Egyptians and Chinese, have heard and admired those sweet strains which made Stephen C. Foster pre-eminently the ballad writer of America. We hope his publishers will make a collection—if not of all—of his best songs and choruses, and publish them in some enduring form; for their popularity will not die with the man whose genial imagination gave them birth.

As stated in a previous notice of the deceased, he married a daughter of Dr. McDowell, who, with an interesting daughter of twelve years, survived him. Some of his friends here, and other lovers of music who acknowledge his numerous and valuable contributions to musical science and literature, have united in having impressive and appropriate ceremonies at his funeral. At Trinity Church the exercises were vocal, led by Mr. Kiebar; at the grave they were instrumental, some of Mr. Foster’s most popular airs having been introduced. Mr. Foster has won a fame which is undying. His influence extends over every land where there are voices to hymn forth sweet notes and hearers to be moved by them.

                [Concludes with text to "The Song of Songs."]”