Visionaries
                                            
                            By James Huneker
                            
                                11 Feb, 2020                            
                            
                         
                                        
                                                                        Alixe Van Kuyp sat in the first-tier box presented to her husband with the accustomed heavy courtesy of the Société Harmonique. She went early to the hall that she might hear the entire music-making of the evening—Van Kuyp's tone-poem, Sordello, 
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                                                Alixe Van Kuyp sat in the first-tier box presented to her husband with the accustomed heavy courtesy of the Société Harmonique. She went early to the hall that she might hear the entire music-making of the evening—Van Kuyp's tone-poem, Sordello, was on the programme between a Weber overture and a Beethoven symphony, an unusual honour for a young American composer. If she had gone late, it would have seemed an affectation, she reasoned. Her husband kept within doors; she could tell him all. And then, was there not Elvard Rentgen?
She regretted that she had invited the Parisian critic to her box. It happened at a soirée, where he showed his savage profile among admiring musical lambs. But he was never punctual at musical affairs. This consoled Alixe. Less