The Way of the Harps

May 1st (London)

In Les Mis, I loved how much of the harp you could hear. The whole production was absolutely amazing, but I loved listening to the harp during the many contemplative songs.

The Queen’s Lyre from the British was quite remarkable to see. The gold shone so much, and I loved the blue lapis lazuli. As a harpist, I found it cool and very fascinating that the custom of elaborately decorating lyres, harps, and other instruments has continued since then. It’s a testament to the importance of music and beauty, and how valued it is and has always been even since the earliest known civilizations. [For the rest of my post on the Queen's Lyre, see here.]

The harpist in front of the Pantheon (see entry below). Her harp was really different, from India.

May 12th (Munich)

In the palace, three things I loved were a building/alter thing made entirely of seashells, a hallway with mirrors at both ends making it appear really long (in fact, the rooms in connection to it had “eternity” mirrors, as I call them, as well. I counted 7 total), and a music room that had three harps. That last one was rather funny:

Before walking fully into the room, I saw the chandelier and a cool looking pianoforte in the corner and stood, taking a picture. My dad told me to look down, so I did and got really excited. As I said, there were three harps. The smallest one I couldn’t determine the kind of. It had one disk with prongs, like single action pedal harp, but I couldn’t see any pedals. The other two were single action pedal harps, as I explained to dad, (those were popular before double actions were invented) and were about the size of my Prelude 40 lever harp at home. I didn’t count the strings, unfortunately, and I don’t think any of them were colored. Dad had to pull me away before I reached out and strummed the strings, even though many of them were broken. I really miss my harp! It started at the Pantheon where we saw and talked to a harpist playing in the plaza. I have been dying to touch the strings of a harp since.
So that was the Residenz palace. [More pictures on this palace to come.]

The two larger ones have pedals, but only two positions, not three that the double action pedal harps have nowadays. These can be dated simply by that fact.

I wonder what history these harps have seen.

What songs have been played on the now broken strings?

It reminds me of Thomas Moore:

"The harp that once through Tara's halls

The soul of music shed,

Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls,

As if that soul were fled.

So sleeps the pride of former days,

So glory's thrill is o'er,

And hearts, that once beat high for praise,

Now feel that pulse no more.

No more to chiefs and ladies bright

The harp of Tara swells;

The chord alone, that breaks at night,

Its tale of ruin tells.

Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes,

The only throb she gives,

Is when some heart indignant breaks,

To show that still she lives."

The harp-shaped piano.

Saying goodbye... *sigh*

May 17th (Paris)

After the Orsay, Dad and I went to a Salvi harps store (to satisfy my yearning to touch and play a harp). They were very kind there, and the harps were beautiful. My dad liked the color(s) of a Salvi pedal electric harp. It looked a different color depending on where you stood. They didn’t have a Sculpita though. Probably for the best.

A street in the Latin district in Paris: "The Way of the Harp."

(Latin, as in the ancient language...this was the scholarly district. That's why Shakespeare and co. is just around the corner from this street.)

The only harp I saw on "harp street." Lame.

But my dad and I ate there anyway...

And guess where the entire group ate for their "Last Supper" a couple of nights later! 

(But that's a story for another post.)

May 19th (Paris)

Then we [my dad and I] ate crepes and filled our water bottles at Shakespeare and co., where we ran into a few of the girls in the group. A man was there too, playing a small Salvi lever harp. I thought that was cool. It would be cool to play in the streets like that, though nerve-racking.

Seeing fellow harpists, particularly with familiar harps or harp brands, is like seeing kin in a way.

David's portrait of a harpist. [For more David paintings, see my Neo-Classical summation.]

I was excited. Well, that's an understatement.

I thought Paris would be the end of my "harpistic" discoveries, but look what I found in the Archeological Museum in Athens, Greece:

From the early Cycladic civilization.

Isn't it beautiful? Though, perhaps, in a strange and unique way.

Though I found harp images throughout my travels in Europe and even played one a little in a store in Paris, I was immensely relieved and glad to return to my own harp at home and even to come home to the university's harp rooms where there are lever and pedal harps in abundance: