MUSIC TALKS WITH CHILDREN

by

THOMAS TAPPER

PhiladelphiaTheodore Presser

1898

 "Dear child! dear girl! that walkest with me here, If thou appear untouched by solemn thought, Thy nature is not therefore less divine: * * * * * "God being with thee when we know it not. "

 --WILLIAM WORDSWORTH. 

TO THE CHILDREN AT HOME

 "Teach me to live! No idler let me be, But in Thy service _hand and heart_ employ. "

 --BAYARD TAYLOR. 

PREFACE

A book of this kind, though addressed to children, must necessarilyreach them through an older person. The purpose is to suggest a few ofthe many aspects which music may have even to the mind of a child. Ifthese chapters, or whatever may be logically suggested by them, beactually used as the basis of simple Talks with children, music maybecome to them more than drill and study. They should know it as anart, full of beauty and of dignity; full of pure thought and aboundingin joy. Music with these characteristics is the true music of theheart. Unless music gives true pleasure to the young it may be doubtedif it is wisely studied. 

Our failure to present music to the young in a manner that interestsand holds them is due not so much to the fact that music is toodifficult for children, but because the children themselves are toodifficult for us. In our ignorance we often withhold the rightfulinheritance. We must not forget that the slower adult mind often meetsa class of difficulties which are not recognized by the unprejudicedchild. It is not infrequent that with the old fears in us we persistin recreating difficulties. 

There should be ever present with the teacher the thought that musicmust be led out of the individuality, not driven into it. 

The teacher's knowledge is not a hammer, it is a light. 

While it is suggested that these chapters be used as thesubject-matter for talks with the children, they may read verbatim ifdesired. All foot-note references and suggestions are addressed to theolder person--the mother or the teacher. There is much in theliterature of art that would interest children if given to themdiscriminatingly. 

THOMAS TAPPER. 

BOSTON, October 30, 1896

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 PREFACE

 I. WHAT THE FACE TELLS

 II. WHY WE SHOULD STUDY MUSIC

 III. MUSIC IN THE HEART

 IV. THE TONES ABOUT US

 V. LISTENING

 VI. THINKING IN TONE

 VII. WHAT WE SEE AND HEAR

 VIII. THE CLASSICS

 IX. WHAT WE SHOULD PLAY

 X. THE LESSON

 XI. THE LIGHT ON THE PATH

 XII. THE GREATER MASTERS

 XIII. THE LESSER MASTERS

 XIV. HARMONY AND COUNTERPOINT

 XV. MUSIC AND READING

 XVI. THE HANDS

 XVII. WHAT THE ROMAN LADY SAID

XVIII. THE GLORY OF THE DAY

 XIX. THE IDEAL

 XX. THE ONE TALENT

 XXI. LOVE FOR THE BEAUTIFUL

 XXII. IN SCHOOL

XXIII. MUSIC IN SCHOOL

 XXIV. HOW ONE THING HELPS ANOTHER

 XXV. THE CHILD AT PLAY

 APPENDIX

BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 

Chats with Music Students; or Talks about Music and Music Life. 

"A remarkably valuable work. It is made up of talks to students, calculated to make them think; of hints and suggestions which will beof immense assistance to those who are earnestly trying to becomeproficient in music. "--_Boston Transcript. _

"No other book covers the same broad field which this covers in such apleasant and inspiring manner. "--_The Writer (Boston). _

The Music Life and How to Succeed in it. 

"These ideas are worthy of attention from students and workers in allbranches of art, science, and literature, who mean to be serious andearnest. "--_Boston Transcript. _

"Exceedingly valuable because of its broad impartiality in itsexposition of truth, its depth of understanding, and, above all, forits earnest desire, manifest in every word, to lead music students toa love for music itself. .. . It abounds in high artistic thought andinsight. "--_The Boston Times. _

CHAPTER I. 

WHAT THE FACE TELLS. 

 "And the light _dwelleth_ with him. "--_Daniel II: 22. _

Once a master said to a child:

"If thou wilt study diligently, learn, and do good unto others, thyface shall be filled with light. "

So the child studied busily, learned, and sought how she could do goodunto others. And every little while she ran to the glass to see if thelight was coming. But at each time she was disappointed. No light wasthere. Try as faithfully as she would, and look as often as she would, it was always the same. 

I do not know if she doubted the master or not; but it is certain shedid not know what to make of it. She grieved, and day after day herdisappointment grew. At length she could bear it no longer, so shewent to the master and said:

"Dear master, I have been so diligent! I have tried to learn and to dogood unto others. Yet every time I have sought in my face the light_which you promised_, it has not been there. No, not a single time. "

Now the master listened intently, and watching her face as she spoke, he said:

"Thou poor little one, in this moment, as thou hast spoken to me, thyface has been so filled with light that thou wouldst not believe. Anddost thou know why? It is because every word thou hast spoken in thismoment has come from thy heart. 

"Thou must learn _in the first days_ this lesson: When the thought andthe deed are in the heart, then the light is in the face, always, andit is there at no other time. It could not be. And what is in thyheart when thou art before the glass? In that moment hast thou turnedaway from diligence, and from learning, and from the love of doinggood unto others and in thy heart there is left only the poorcuriosity to see the light which can never shine when it is sought. Thou canst never see the light of thy own face. For thee that light isforever within, and it will not prosper thy way to want to look uponit. It is only as thou art faithful that this is added unto thee. "

Sorrowing yet more than before the little child said:

"Master, I do not understand what thou hast said, yet I believe thee;but the wish is yet within me to see the light of my face, if only foronce. Thou who art wise, tell me why it is denied me. "

And the master made answer:

"It is denied to us all. No one may see the light of his own face. Therefore thou shalt labor daily with diligence that thy light shallshine before others. And if thou wouldst see the light thou shaltcause it to shine _in another_. That is the greatest of all--to bringforth the light. And to do this, thou shalt of thyself be faithful inall things. By what thou art thou must show diligence, the love forlearning, and the desire to do good unto others, even as these thingshave been taught thee. "

CHAPTER II. 

WHY WE SHOULD STUDY MUSIC. 

 "Music makes people more gentle and meek, more modest and understanding. "--_Martin Luther. _[1]

It was this same music lover who said once, "Music is the fairest giftof God. " Just these words should be a sufficient answer to thequestion which we have asked in this Talk, but a little more may makeit clearer. Here we are, gathered together to talk about music. Weknow music is pleasing; to many of us it is even more than a pleasure;of course, it is difficult to get the lessons properly and we muststruggle and strive. Often the way seems so rude and stony that wecannot advance. We are hurt, and hot tears of discouragement come, andwe sit down dejected feeling it were best never to try again. But evenwhen the tears flow the fastest we feel something within us whichmakes us listen. We can really hear our thoughts battling to tell ussomething, --prompted by the heart, we may be sure. 

And what is music making our thoughts say?

"Have I not been a pleasure and a comfort to you? Have I not set youto singing and to dancing many and many times? Have I not let you singyour greatest happiness? And am I not ever about you, at home, inschool, in church? even in the streets I have never deserted you. Always, _always_ I have made you merry. But this was music you_heard_. Now you have said you wished to know me yourself; to have mecome to dwell in your heart that you might have me understandingly, and because I ask labor of you for this, you sit here with your hottears in your eyes and not a bit of me present in your heart. Listen!Am I not there? Yes, just a bit. Now more and more, and now will yougive me up because I make you work a little?"

Well, we all have just this experience and we always feel ashamed ofour discouragements; but even this does not tell us why we shouldstudy music. Some people study it because they have to do so; othersbecause they love it. Surely it must be best with those who out oftheir hearts choose to learn about tones and the messages they tell. 

Did you ever notice how people seem willing to stop any employment ifmusic comes near? Even in the busiest streets of a city the organ-manwill make us listen to his tunes. In spite of the hurry and the crowdand the jumble of noises, still the organ-tones go everywhere clear, full, melodious, bidding us heed them. Perhaps we mark the music withthe hand, or walk differently, or begin to sing with it. In one way oranother the music will make us do something--that shows its power. Ihave seen in many European towns a group of children about theorgan-man, [2] dancing or singing as he played and enjoying every tuneto the utmost. This taught me that music of every kind has its lover, and that with a little pains and a little patience the love for musicbelongs to all alike, and may be increased if other things do not pushit aside. 

Now, one of the first things to be said of music is that it makeshappiness, and what makes happiness is good for us, because happinessnot only lightens the heart, but it is one of the best ways to makethe light come to the face. The moment we study music we learn asevere lesson, and that is this: There can be no use in our trying tobe musicians unless we are willing to learn perfect order in all themusic-tasks we do. 

In this, music is a particularly severe mistress. Nothing slovenly, untidy, or out of order will do. The count must be absolutely right, not fast nor slow as our fancy dictates, but even and regular. Thehands must do their task together in a friendly manner; the one nevercrowding nor hurrying the other, each willing to yield to the otherwhen the right moment comes. [3] The feet must never use the pedals soas to make the harmonies mingle wrongly, but at just the right momentmust make the strings sing together as the composer desires. Thethoughts can never for a single moment wander from the playing; theymust remain faithful, preparing what is to come and commanding thehands to do exactly the right task in the right way. That shows us, you see, the second quality and a strict one of music. It will notallow us to be disorderly, and more than this, it teaches us a habitfor order that will be a gain to us in every other task. Now let ussee:

First, we should study music for the happiness it will give us. 

Second, we should study music for the order it teaches us. 

There is a third reason. If music gives us happiness, do we not inlearning it gain a power to contribute happiness to others? That isone of the greatest pleasures in learning. Not only does the knowledgeprove of use and joy to us, but we can constantly make it useful andjoy-giving to others. Does this not teach us how thankful we should beto all those who live usefully? And think of all the men who havepassed their lives writing beautiful thoughts, singing out of theirvery hearts, day after day, all their life long, for the joy of othersforever after. 

In our next Talk we shall learn that pure thought, written out of theheart, is forever a good in the world. From this we shall learn thatto study music rightly is to cultivate in our own hearts the same goodthought which the composer had. Hence the third reason we can find forstudying music is that it makes us able to help and to cheer others, to help them by willingly imparting the little knowledge we have, andto cheer them by playing the beautiful thoughts in tone which we havelearned. 

These are three great reasons, truly, but there are many others. Letus speak about one of them. In some of the Talks we are to have weshall learn that true music comes from a true heart; and that greatmusic--that is the classics--is the thought of men who are pure andnoble, learned in the way to write, and anxious never to writeanything but the best. There is plainly a great deal of good to us ifwe study daily the music of men such as these. In this way we arebrought in touch with the greatest thought. This constant presence andinfluence will mold our thoughts to greater strength and greaterbeauty. When we read the history of music, we shall see that thegreatest composers have always been willing to study in their firstdays the master works of their time. They have strengthened theirthoughts by contact with thoughts stronger than their own, and we maygain in just the same way if we will. We know now that there are manyreasons why it is good for us to study music. We have spokenparticularly of four of these. They are:

First, for the happiness it will give us. 

Second, for the order it demands of us. 

Third, for the power it gives us to help and cheer others. 

Fourth, for the great and pure thought it brings before us and raisesin us. 

All these things, are they true, you ask? If the little child hadasked that of the master he would have said:

"These things shalt thou find real because they make thee brave. Andthe pain and the drudgery and the hot tears shall be the easier tobear for this knowledge, which should be strong within thee as a purefaith. "

CHAPTER III. 

MUSIC IN THE HEART. 

 "Raffaello's genius goes directly to the heart. "--_Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini. _[4]

The only true way to learn is by doing. The skill of the hand and theskill of the thought can be brought out only by use. We shall notbecome very skilful, nor very learned, nor very good unless we dailydevote ourselves to tasks--often difficult and unpleasant--which shallbring to us wisdom, or success, or goodness. None of these things, norany other like them, come merely by talking about them. That is theworst way of all--merely to talk and not to act. But if we talktruthfully and act with care, we shall gain a great deal. Pleasantcompanionship often brings forth thoughts which if we follow themindustriously, lead a long way in a good direction. 

I do not know that any one has likened music to a country. But we canmake the comparison, and then it becomes plain that we may eitherwander through it, seeing the beautiful things, wondering about them, and talking over our admiration and our wonder; or we may join to thisa true and an earnest inquiry, which shall give us, as a reward, theclear understanding of some things which we see. Let us travel in thisway; first, because we shall gain true knowledge by it, but betterstill, because we shall thereby learn _in the first days_ that thetruest pleasures and the dearest happinesses are those for which wehave done something; those for which we have given both of labor andof pains. 

One of the wisest little philosophers in the world was Polissena, [5]and I think she became wise just because she labored. As we becomemore and more acquainted with true music we shall learn this: Truemusic is that which is born in some one's heart. "All immortal writersspeak out of the heart. "[6] Nothing could be truer; and as they speak_out_ of their hearts you may be sure they intend to speak _into_ours. Nowhere else. As true music is made in some one's heart, we mustfeel it in our own hearts as we play it or it will mean nothing. Theheart must make it warm, then the beauties of the music will come out. It is strange how our moods tell themselves. All we do with our eyesand with our ears, with the tongue and with the hands, what we do withour thoughts even, is sure to say of itself whether we are doing witha willing heart or not. It is curious that the truth will come out ofwhatever seems to be a secret, but curious as it may be, it does comeout. We must think of that. 

Every one of us knows the difference between doing willingly andunwillingly. We know that things done with joy and with eagerness arewell done and seem to spring directly from the heart. Not only that, but they really inspire joy and eagerness in those who are about us. _Inspire_ is just the word. Look it up in your dictionary and see thatit means exactly what happens--_to breathe into_--they breathe joy andhappiness _into_ all things else, and it comes out of our hearts. 

Now happiness can be told in many ways: in laughter, in the eyes, in agame, in a life like that of Polissena's, in anything, but in nothingthat does not win the heart. As happiness can be shown in anything, itcan be shown in music. We can put happiness into play, likewise we canput happiness into music. And as much of it as we put into anythingwill come out. Besides, we might just as well learn now as at anothertime, this: Whatever we put into what we do will come out. It may behappiness or idleness or hatred or courage; whatever goes into what wedo comes out very plainly. Everything, remember. That means much. Ifyou should practise for an hour, wishing all the time to be doingsomething else, you may be sure that your wish is coming out of yourplaying so plainly that every one knows it. Do you think that isstrange? Well, it may be, but it is strictly true. 

No one may be able to explain why and how, but certainly it is truethat as we play our music all that goes on in the heart finds its wayinto the head, and the arms, and the hands, into the music, offthrough the air, and into the hearts of every one who is listening. Soit is a valuable truth for us to remember, that whatever we put intoour music will come out and we cannot stop it; and other people willget it, and know what we are by it. 

Once we fully understand how music will show forth our inmost feelingswe shall begin to understand its truthfulness and its power, as wellas its beauty. We shall see from our first days that music will tellthe truth. That will help us to understand a little the true missionof art, "either to state a true thing, or adorn a serviceable one. "[7]The moment we understand this _a very little_ we shall begin to loveart. We shall be glad and willing for music to reveal us, to show thespirit within us, because little by little with the understanding willcome love and reverence for the beautiful thoughts that are locked upin tones. 

Men who want to tell something to very many people, many of whom theydo not know and to whom they cannot go, write down all they have tosay and make a book of it. There are some men, however, who have manybeautiful thoughts which they wish to tell to those who canunderstand; these may dwell in their own land or in other lands; intheir own time or in future time. But the message of these men is sobeautiful and so delicate that it cannot be told in words, so theytell it in music. Then, in their own land and in other lands, in theirown day and forever after, people can find out the delicate thoughtsby studying the pages of the music, seeking _with their hearts_ thethought that came out of the master's heart. 

Do you wonder that composers revere their art? We are told of Chopinthat art was for him a high and holy vocation. [8] Do you wonder? Letme read you a few words about his devotion: "In order to become askilful and able master he studied, without dreaming of the . .. Famehe would obtain. " "Nothing could be purer, more exalted, than histhoughts, "[9] because he knew that if his thoughts were not pure theimpurity would come out in his music. 

The music that has first been felt in the heart and then written downfinds its way and tells all about the heart, where it was born. Whenyou play and feel that you are playing from the heart, you may be sureyou are on the right path. The beautiful thing is, that this is trueno matter how simple music is. The very simplest will tell all aboutus. Remember, in playing music, that great and good men have put intotones thoughts which will be a joy and comfort to the world forever. Some one of these Talks will be about classic and common music. Buteven now I am sure we understand that good music comes from purethought, and pure thought comes from a good heart. That, surely, isclear and simple. 

Pure music is earnest and songful. It has meaning in every part. Notone is without a lofty purpose. That is true music. It is classicfrom the heart that is put into it. 

By being faithful to our music it will do for us more than we candream. Do you know the inscription that used to be over the north gateof the city of Siena, in Italy?

"Siena opens not only her gates, but her heart to you. "

CHAPTER IV. 

THE TONES ABOUT US. 

"Scientific education ought to teach us to see the invisible as wellas the visible in nature. "--_John Tyndall_. [10]

There used to live in England a famous scientist named Tyndall, whowas interested, among other things, in the study of sound. He studiedsounds of all kinds, made experiments with them, wrote down what heobserved, and out of it all he wrote a book, [11] useful to all whodesire to learn about sound and its nature. 

One day, Tyndall and a friend were walking up one of the mountains ofthe Alps. [12] As they ascended the path, Tyndall's attention wasattracted by a shrill sound, which seemed to come from the ground athis feet. Being a trained thinker he was at once curious to know whatwas the cause of this. By looking carefully he found that it came froma myriad of small insects which swarmed by the side of the path. Having satisfied himself as to what it was he spoke to his companionabout the shrill tone and was surprised to learn that he could nothear it. Tyndall's friend could hear all ordinary sound perfectlywell. This, however, seemed to be sound of such a character as did notreach his sense of hearing. One who like Tyndall listened carefully tosounds of all kinds would quickly detect anything uncommon. Thislittle incident teaches us that sounds may go on about us and yet weknow nothing of them. Also it teaches us to think about tones, seekthem, and in the first days increase our acquaintance and familiaritywith them. 

Men of science, who study the different ways in which the mind works, tell us that habit and also a busy mind frequently make us unconsciousof many things about us. Sometimes we have not noticed the clockstrike, although we have been in the room on the hour; or some onespeaks to us, and because we are thinking of something else we fail tohear what is said to us. It certainly is true that very many people donot hear half of the sounds that go on about them, sounds which, ifbut heeded, would teach people a great deal. And of all people, thosewho study music should be particularly attentive to sounds of allkinds. Indeed, the only way to begin a music education is to begin bylearning to listen. Robert Schumann, a German composer, once wrote aset of rules for young musicians. As it was Schumann's habit to writeonly what was absolutely needed we may be sure he regarded his rulesas very important. There are sixty-eight of them, and the very firsthas reference to taking particular notice of the tones about us. If welearn it from memory we shall understand it better and think of itoftener. Besides that, we shall have memorized the serious thought ofa truly good and great man. This is what he says:

"The cultivation of the ear is of the greatest importance. Endeavorearly to distinguish each tone and key. Find out the exact tonesounded by the bell, the glass, and the cuckoo. "

There is certainly a good hint in this. Let us follow it day by day, and we shall see how many are the tones about us which we scarcelyever notice. We should frequently listen and find who of us candistinguish the greatest number of different sounds. Then we shalllearn to listen attentively to sounds and noises. Bit by bit allsounds, especially beautiful ones, will take on a new and deepermeaning to us; they will be full of a previously unrecognized beautywhich will teach us to love music more and more sincerely. 

In order that we may better understand how sounds are related to eachother we should learn early to sing the major scale so that it will goreadily up and down as a melody. As we become more and more familiarwith it we must think frequently of its separate tones so as to feeljust how each one sounds in the scale, how it fits in the scale, andjust what it says, in fact; we shall then notice after a while that wecan hear the scale with the inner ear, which is finer and moredelicate. [13]

We should have names for the scale-tones like the pretty Italiansyllables, or, if not these, whatever our teacher suggests. Then weshould have a conception of the tones as they are related. We shouldlearn that every tone of the scale is colored by the tonic. Every onegets a character from the tonic which tells us all about it, becausewe learn to hear its relation to its principal tone. In a littlewhile, with patience, we shall be able to hear the scale-tones in anyorder we may choose to think them. That power will be a fine helpforever after--we must be sure to get it in the first days. 

Whenever we hear two tones we should try to find them on the piano. This will make us listen more attentively to the tone sounded by theclock, the church-bell, the bird, the drinking-glass. And what a lotthere are, like the squeaking door, the cricket, the noise of the windand rain, the puff of the engine, and all the other sounds we hear ina day. Bit by bit, in this way, our familiarity with tones will growand we shall be well repaid for all the trouble. Gradually we shallbecome better listeners--but about listening we are to speak in ournext Talk. This, however, may be said now: Let us always be sure tolisten with special care to two tones, calling one the tonic, orfirst, of the major scale and finding what degree the other is, ornear what degree it lies. This will make us better acquainted with thescale and we shall learn that all the music we have comes out of it. 

We must also listen to tones so that we can tell something about thembesides their scale names. We must learn to describe tones, tellwhether they are high or low, sweet or harsh, loud or soft, long orshort. For instance, through the window I can hear a church-bell. Someone is ringing it slowly so that the tones are long. The tone is not avery high one (it is G above middle C) and the quality is rich andmellow. This describes the church-bell tone quite well, and in likemanner we may describe all the sounds we hear. We should make it ahabit often to stand or to sit perfectly still and to listen toeverything that goes on about us. Even in the country, where all seemsas quiet as possible, we shall be surprised at the great number ofsounds. 

There are some other tones to which I fear we are prone not to listen. I mean the tones which the piano makes when we play finger-exercises. We think perhaps of the finger motion, which is not all; or we thinkof nothing, which is very bad; or our thoughts begin to picture otherthings even while we play, which is the worst of all, and bit by bitwe actually forget what we are doing. One of the quickest ways tobecome unable to hear sounds correctly is to play the piano withoutthinking fully of what we are doing. Therefore it must be a rule neverto play a tone without listening acutely to it. If in the first dayswe determine to do this and remain faithful to it, we shall alwaystouch the piano keys carefully, thoughtfully, and reverentially. 

Elsewhere we shall have some definite tone lessons for the purpose ofmaking us familiar with the tones about us. But no rule can exceed inimportance this one, never to make any music unthinkingly. 

By care and practice we soon become so skilful as to notice tones withthe readiness we notice colors in the garden. The sense of tone mustbe as strong in us as is the sense of color. Then we shall be able totell differences of tones which are nearly the same, as readily as wecan now tell two varieties of yellow, for instance. A bit ofperseverance in this and the beauties even of common sounds shall berevealed to us. 

CHAPTER V. 

LISTENING. 

 "You must listen as if listening were your life. "--_Phillips Brooks. _[14]

In our last Talk we learned that it was quite possible for sounds tobe about us and yet we not hear them. Sometimes, as in the case ofTyndall's companion, it is because we are not capable; at other times, as when the clock strikes and we do not hear, it is because we areoccupied with other things. It is from this latter fact--beingoccupied with other things--that we can learn what listening is. Listening is not being occupied with other things. It is beingcompletely attentive to what we are expected to hear. 

The condition of being occupied with other thoughts when we should belistening is known as inattention. To listen with full attention, allother things being entirely absent from the mind, is one form ofconcentration. 

Inattention is a destroyer. It divides our power between two or morethings when it should be directed upon a single thing. Concentrationgives us greater and greater mind-power. If you will look in thedictionary to find what concentration means (you should be goodfriends with the dictionary) you will find it is made up of _con_[15]meaning with, and _centrum_, a center, "with a center, " or "to come toa center. " If you hold a magnifying-glass between your hand and thesun you will find that at a certain distance the sunlight is in acircle. By changing the distance with delicacy you can diminish thecircle to almost a point, --you make the light _come to a center_. Whenthe circle of light is large, no particular effect is noted by thehand. When, however, the circle is as small as it can be made you feela sensation of warmth which, if continued long enough, will reallyburn the hand. That small circle is the sunlight _in concentration_. The rays of sunlight, instead of being scattered, are centered. Theyburn the hand because they are full of power--powerful. 

By way of example: Let the different rays stand for inattention andthe tiny circle of light for concentration. The former has little orno power; the latter is full of power. This very well illustrates whathappens, both when our thoughts are scattered over a large area, andwhen they are brought together--concentrated--in a small circle. Thefirst listening indeed which should claim our attention is nottone-listening, but listening to what is said to us. No one under agood teacher ever learns well who is not attentive and obedient. Andthen _listening_ and _doing_ are inseparably joined. Tone-listeningmakes us self-critical and observant, and we are assured by men ofscience that unless we become good observers in our early years, it islater impossible for us. [16]

In the previous Talk we spoke about listening to all kinds of sounds, particularly those out-of-doors. In this Talk we shall speak only ofreal music-listening. You know, now, that music born out of the heartis the thought of a good man. Of course, beautiful thoughts of anykind should be listened to not only with attention, but withreverence. Reverence is the tribute which the thoughtful listener paysto the music of a man who has expressed himself beautifully in tone. This at once reveals to us that we should listen to what is great forthe purpose of getting ideals. We hear what we hope to attain. It issaid of the violinist, Pierre Baillot, that when only ten years of agehe heard the playing of Viotti, and though he did not hear it againfor twenty years the performance ever remained in his mind as an idealto be realized in his studies, and he worked to attain it. 

The pupils of the great Viennese teacher of the piano, TheodorLeschetizky, say he asks no question more frequently than "Can you nothear?" It is not only difficult to listen to ourselves, but listeningis one thing and decidedly a superior thing, while hearing is anotherand equally inferior thing. And it shows us, when we think of it, thatno self-criticism is possible until we forget all things else andlisten to what we are doing and listen with concentration. It nowbecomes clear to us that no one becomes an intelligent musician who isnot skilled in tone sense, in listening, and having thoughts aboutwhat is heard. 

We may read again from the excellent rules of Robert Schumann:

"Frequently sing in choruses, especially the middle parts; this willhelp to make you musical. "

Out of this we learn to try to hear more than the melody, to trysometimes not to think of the melody, but to listen only to that whichaccompanies it. When, in school, you sing in two and three parts, notice how one is inclined always to sing the soprano. The melodypulls us away from another part if we are not concentrated upon ourpart. Yet notice how beautifully musical the lower parts are. Listenintently to them whatever part you sing. 

It seems in music that we learn to listen in two directions. First, bytraining the attention merely to follow prominent sounds and to beconscious of all of them; then, later, we do not need to think so muchof the prominent melody but we strive to hear the accompanying parts. These are the melodies which are somewhat concealed by the principalone; not truly concealed either, for they are plain enough if we willlisten. They make one think of flowers hidden in the grass andfoliage. They are none the less beautiful though they are concealed;for the sunlight seeks them out and makes them blossom. 

We find hidden melodies in all good music because it is the characterof good music to have interesting and beautiful melodic thoughteverywhere. There are never meaningless tones allowed. Every soundsays something and is needed. It is curious that in our playing themoment we put our thoughts upon any tone or voice part with the desireto hear it, it comes out at once as plainly as if it was the highestmelody. That illustrates the power of thought concentrated upon even ahidden thing. You know how in Bach even the piano works move as if allparts were to be sung by voices. It reminds one of conversation; ofthe story, of the question and answer, of the merry chat in a pleasantcompany. Some bits of sentence are tripping and full of laughter, [17]others grave and majestic, [18] others have wonderful dignity of heartand mind. [19]

Such qualities give music interest and meaning in every part. It willnot take you long to discover that it is just the absence of thesequalities that makes other music common. 

The melody is not sustained by anything particularly well worthlistening to. One might say that good music is like the foliage of thegarden, every leaf and petal variously yet finely formed, and allcombined to make a beautiful whole. 

When you have learned carefully to follow the accompaniment of amelody, try to follow the single voice parts in the chorus, particularly the Bass, Tenor, and Alto. And when you go to orchestralconcerts learn early to follow special instruments like the clarinet, the oboe, the drum. 

Especially try to follow the lower strings, the viola, the 'cello, andthe bass. They are strongly characteristic. You will learn theirpeculiar qualities only by giving them special and concentratedthought. You will now see that acute and careful listening has itsdefinite ways and purposes. Here they are:

 I. Listening comes from concentration. 

 II. When listening to great music it must be with reverence as well as with attention. 

 III. We must listen for ideals. 

 IV. We must listen in order to be self-critical. 

 V. Constant listening to true music reveals that there is never a tone used unless it has a meaning. 

And besides all this we must think that among those who listen to usthere may be some one who has learned this careful concentrated way. Then we shall have it ever in mind to "play as if in the presence of amaster. "[20]

CHAPTER VI. 

THINKING IN TONE. 

 "The gods for labor sell us all good things. "--_Epicharmus_. [21]

Perhaps you have some doubt as to exactly what is meant bymusic-thinking. Being somewhat acquainted with composers and withmusic, the thought may here come to you that all the music we hear inthe world must have been made by somebody--by many somebodies, infact. They have had to sit down, and forgetting all things else, listen intently to the music-thought which fills the mind. If you willsit quietly by yourself you will discover that you can easily thinkwords and sentences and really hear them in the mind withoutpronouncing anything. In quite the same way the composer sits andhears music, tone by tone, and as clearly as if it were played by apiano or an orchestra. And to him the tones have a clear meaning, justas words have a clear meaning to us. Naturally, one can see that therecould be no other way. Unless the composer can think out everythingexactly there could be no music, for music must be written, and onecan only write what one thinks. So at this point the thought toremember is this: Music must exist in some one's mind before otherscan have it to hear and enjoy. 

In like manner--just the same manner, in fact--the painter is one whothinks pictures; the sculptor, one who thinks statues; the architect, one who thinks buildings. They think these things just as you thinkwords; and as you tell your thoughts in spoken words, so they telltheir thoughts in printed music, in painted pictures, in chiseledstatues, and in erected buildings. Now, from all this it should beclear to you that there can be nothing which has not first beenthought of by some one. You _think_ the door must be closed and youclose it; you _think_ you must know the time and you look at theclock; you _think_ the one hand should play more loudly than the otherand you try to do it. 

Power to get things and to do things comes to us rapidly only in thefairy-tales. In the real, beautiful, healthy world in which we live wehave to work hard and honestly for the power either to get things orto do things. By faithful labor must we win what we want. What we donot labor for we do not get. That is a condition of things so simplethat a child can readily understand it. But all, children and theirelders, are apt to forget it. In the life of every great man there isa story different from that of every other great man, _but in everyone of them_ this truth about laboring for the power one has is found. 

In our Talk on Listening, it was said that the sounds we hear aroundus are the more easily understood if we first become familiar with themelody which is called the major scale. But in order to think music itis necessary to know it--in fact, music-thinking is impossible withoutit. As it is no trouble to learn the scale, all of you should get itfixed in the mind quickly and securely. 

It is now possible for you to hear the scale without singing its tonesaloud. Listen and see if that is not so! Now think of the melodies youknow, the songs you sing, the pieces you play. You can sing them quiteloudly (_can_ you sing them?) or in a medium tone, or you can hum themsoftly as if to yourself; or further yet, you can think them withoutmaking the faintest sound, and every tone will be as plain as when yousang it the loudest. Here, I can tell you that Beethoven wrote many ofhis greatest works when he was so deaf that he could not hear themusic he made. Hence, he must have been able to write it out of histhought just as he wanted it to sound. When you understand these stepsand ways you will then know about the beginning of music-thinking. 

Let us inquire in this Talk what the piano has to do in ourmusic-thinking. What relation is there between the music in the mindand the tones produced by the piano? It seems really as if the pianowere a photographic camera, making for us a picture of what we havewritten, --a camera so subtle indeed, that it pictures not things wecan see and touch, but invisible things which exist only within us. But faithful as the piano is in this, it may become the means of doingus much injury. We may get into the habit of trusting the piano tothink for us, of making it do so, in fact. Instead of lookingcarefully through the pages of our new music, reading andunderstanding it with the mind, we run to the piano and with suchplaying-skill as we have we sit down and use our hands instead of ourminds. Now a great many do that, young and old. But the only peoplewho have a chance to conceive their music rightly are the young; theold, if they have not already learned to do it, never can. That is alaw which cannot be changed. 

We have talked about listening so much that it should now be a settledhabit in us. If it is we are learning every day a little about tones, their qualities and character. And we do this not alone by hearing thetones, but by giving great heed to them. Let us now remember this:listening is not of the ears but of the thoughts. It is thought_concentrated_ upon hearing. The more this habit of tone-listeninggoes on in us, the more power we shall get out of our ability to readmusic. All these things help one another. We shall soon begin todiscover that we not only have thoughts about sounding-tones, butabout printed tones. This comes more as our knowledge of the scaleincreases. 

We can now learn one of the greatest and one of the most wonderfultruths of science: _Great knowledge of anything comes from neverceasing to study the first steps. _

The major scale, as we first learn it, seems a perfectly simple thing. But if we think of it all our lives we shall never discover thewonders there are in it. Hence, three simple rules for us to follow inlearning to think music are these:

 1. To listen to all tones. 

 2. Never to stop studying the major scale. 

 3. To become accustomed to hear tones within. 

If we are faithful to these we shall, with increasing study andindustry, become more and more independent of the piano. We shallnever think with our hands, nor depend upon anything outside ofourselves for the meaning contained in printed tone-thought. 

If now we join two things we shall get the strength of both united, which is greater than of either alone. 

If in our playing lessons we have only the very purest music (heartmusic, remember), and if we are faithful in our simpler thinkinglessons, we shall gain the power not only of pure thought, but ofstronger and stronger thought. This comes of being daily in thepresence of great thoughts--for we are in the presence of greatthoughts when we study great music, or read a great poem, or look at agreat picture, or at a great building. All these things are but signsmade manifest, --that is to say, made plain to us--of the pure thoughtof their makers. 

Thomas Carlyle, a Scotch author of this century, spoke very truly whenhe said:

"Great men are profitable company; we cannot look upon a great manwithout gaining something by him. "[22]

CHAPTER VII. 

WHAT WE SEE AND HEAR. 

 "You must feel the mountains above you while you work upon your little garden. "--_Phillips Brooks. _[23]

Somewhere else we shall have some definite lessons in music-thinking. Let us then devote this Talk to finding out what is suggested to us bythe things we see and hear. 

Once a boy wrote down little songs. When the people asked him how hecould do it, he replied by saying that he made his songs from thoughtswhich most other people let slip. We have already talked about thoughtand about learning to express it. If a person of pure thought willonly store it up and become able to express it properly, when the timecomes he can make little songs or many other things; for all thingsare made of thought. The poem is stored-up thought expressed in words;the great cathedral like the one at Winchester, in England, or the onenear the Rhine, at Cologne, in Germany, is stored-up thought expressedin stone. So with the picture and the statue: they are stored-upthought on canvas and in marble. [24] In short, we learn by looking atgreat things just what the little ones are; and we know from poems andbuildings and the like, that these, and even commoner things, like awell-kept garden, a tidy room, a carefully learned lesson, even asmile on one's face result, every one of them, from stored-up thought. 

We can consequently make a definition of THINGS by saying they arewhat is thought. Things are made of thought. Even if you cannotunderstand this fully now, keep it by you and as you grow older itstruth will be more and more clear. It will be luminous. Luminous isjust the word, for it comes from a word in another language and means_light_. Now the better you understand things the more _light_ youhave about them. And out of this you can understand how well ignorancehas been compared with darkness. Hence, from the poem, the building, the painting, the statue, and from commoner things we can learn, as itwas said in a previous Talk, that music is stored-up thought told inbeautiful tones. 

Now let us heed the valuable part of all this. If poems, statues, andall other beautiful things are made out of stored-up thought (andcommoner things are, too), we ought to be able, by studying thethings, to tell what kind of a person it was who thought them; or, inother words, who made them. It is true, we can. We can tell all theperson's thought, so far as his art and principal work are concerned. Nearly all his life is displayed in the works he makes. We can tellthe nature of the man, the amount of study he has done, but best ofall we can tell his meaning. The face tells all its past history toone who knows how to look. [25] His intentions are everywhere as plainas can be in what he does. 

Thus you see there is more in a person's work than what we see at thefirst glance. There are reflections in it as plain as those in amountain lake. And as the mountain lake reflects only what is _above_it, so the work of the musician, of the artist, of any one in fact, reflects those thoughts which forever hover above the others. Thoughtsof good, thoughts of evil, thoughts of generosity, thoughts of selfishvanity, these, _and every other kind_, are so strongly reflected inthe work we do that they are often more plainly seen than the workitself. And with the works of a great artist before us we may find outnot only what he did and what he knew, but what he felt _and even whathe did not want to say_. 

We now know what music-thinking is. Also, we see why the youngmusician needs to learn to think music. Really, he is not a musicianuntil he can think correctly in tone. And further than this, when wehave some understanding of music-thought we not only think about whatwe play and hear, but we begin to inquire what story it tells and whatmeaning it should convey. We begin to seek in music for the thoughtand intention of the composer, and, little by little, even before weknow it, we begin to seek out what kind of mind and heart the composerhad. We begin really to study his character from the works he has leftus. 

We have now taken the first really intelligent step toward knowing forourselves something about common and classic music. Later on, as ourability increases, this will be of great value to us. We begin to see, bit by bit, what the author intended. That is the real test of it all. We do not want to find mere jingle in music, we want music that sayssomething. Even a very young child knows that "eenty meenty meiny moe"is not real sense, though it is a pleasant string of sounds to say ina game. 

Thus we learn to look into what we hear and into what we see and tryto find how much thought there is in it, and the kind of thought itis. We want to know if goodness is expressed; if the best work of theman is before us, or if, for a lower reason, his selfishness andvanity are most prominent. And let us remember that as we seek thesethings in the works of others, so others of thoughtful kind will watchour doings, our playing, our speech, our little habits, and all to seewhat our intentions are each time we express ourselves. They will lookto see what thoughts we are putting into our doings, whether thoughtsof goodness or of selfishness. And our actions will always be just asgood as the thought we put into them. 

Now a great and a common mistake is, that sometimes we hope by somemysterious change, as in a fairy tale, that they will be better thanwhat we intend. But in the first days let us learn that this is notpossible. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE CLASSICS. [26]

 "Genuine work done faithfully, that is eternal. "--_Thomas Carlyle. _

The older we grow and the more we study, the more we shall hear aboutthe classics, about classic music, and classic art, and classic books. From the beginning let us keep it in our minds that one of our dutiesis to find out the difference between what is classic and what is not. Then we shall have a proper understanding. An English writer on artsays: "The writers and painters of the classic school set down nothingbut what is known to be true, and set it down in the perfectest mannerpossible in their way. "[27]

And we have already learned that thought from the heart, expressed intones, is good music. On the other hand, a thought with the heart notin it, expressed in tone, makes poor or common music. Mendelssohnwrote in one of his letters: "When I have composed a piece just as itsprings from my heart, then I have done my duty toward it. "[28] But inwriting thoughts, whether in words or in tones, there is a veryimportant thing to add to the bidding of the heart. It is the trainingof the mind. With both of these one works and judges wisely. 

With thought and intention ever so pure, but with no education, onewould not be able to write for others, and with a little education onewould be able to write only in a partially correct way. This brings usto one of the most interesting Talks we shall have. Let us try to makeit clear and simple. 

We can easily imagine a man both true and good who can neither writenor spell. Happily, in these days, nearly all people who are oldenough know how to do both. We can understand that this man may havebeautiful thoughts--the thoughts of a true poet or of a trueartist--but being unable to write or to spell he could not put histhoughts on paper for others to read and to study. This is the waythoughts are preserved and made into books so that people may benefitby them. 

It would, therefore, be necessary for this man, about whom we speak, to get the assistance of some one who knew how to write thoughts andto spell their words. Then, together, they would have to talk aboutthe thoughts, choose proper words, form the sentences, and make allfit rightly together as a writer must who desires to be clear. But itis more than likely that the one who writes would not do all thesethings to the satisfaction of the other. Of this there could be butone result. The person who had the beautiful thoughts would be foreverwishing that he had learned in the first days to write and to spell. Then he could do all these things for himself and show his thoughts toothers exactly as he wished them to appear. 

Now it is clear that some may have beautiful and valuable thoughts andnot know how to write them, while others may have the ability to writewithout having thoughts worth preserving. Evidently what one must haveare both beautiful thoughts and ability to write them. 

Did you think when I read you that bit from the letter of Mendelssohnthat all a composer has to do is to find in his heart just what hewants to say? As we have already discovered, that is not enough. Toshow you that Mendelssohn was not afraid of hard work let us read alittle from another of his letters. [29] Mendelssohn had resolved towork in Germany and maintain himself. "If I find that I cannot dothis, then I must leave it for London or Paris, where it is easier toget on. I see indeed where I should be more honored, and live moregaily and more at my ease than in Germany, where a man must pressforward, and toil, and take no rest, --still, if I can succeed there, _I prefer_ the latter. "[30]

We can now understand that it is quite the same with word-thinkers andwith tone-thinkers. Good thoughts and the proper writing of them makethe classics. 

Out of this thought there comes another. It is this: Great thoughts, expressed well, out of a great heart, make the works which last thelongest; and still further, for one truth leads out of another. Onlythey can appreciate the classics who have something that is classicwithin them. They must have the heart true in its feeling, tender inits sentiments. Even a child can have that. They must have the mindtrained in the truest and best way of expressing thought. And a childmay begin to learn that. Hence we see that a child may be classicworthy. Only we must never, _never_, no matter what is our ability, think we are better or above others. The more talents one has the moreone is expected to do and the greater duty it is. [31]

Thus far we have three truths; now here is a fourth: Some love theclassics sooner and better than others because they have more power. And how do they get it? They think more (thought-making); they feelmore (heart-learning); and they see more (truth-seeking). 

Let us at once go back and gather together these four truths. They areimportant. Perhaps some of us who are willing to spend the time willlearn them from memory. 

And to repay us for the trouble of doing it we shall have greater andgreater understanding of many things. Here they are:

 I. Good thoughts and the proper writing of them make the classics. 

 II. Great thoughts, expressed well, out of a great heart, make the works which last the longest. 

 III. Only they can appreciate the classics who have something that is classic within them. 

 IV. Some love the classics sooner and better than others because they have more power. 

What shall these truths teach us? That true music cannot be learnedrapidly; that the way of Art is long and difficult. But if the way islong, it is yet beautiful in every turn; if it is difficult, it is yetworth a struggle for what comes. As you read the lives of the greatcomposers you will learn that they went willingly about their tasks, doing each one well. This is done by all great men. _Great men takeshort steps carefully_, no matter how rapidly they can go. 

One of them [32] wrote: "Success comes with tiny steps. " And it comesentirely unsought. Besides all this we are to remember that the powerfor these things comes from

 I. Thought-making;

 II. Heart-learning;

 III. Truth-seeking. 

Now, just to end with let us read a few words from a book I trust weall may read some day: [33] "Great art is the expression of the mindof a great man, and mean art of a weak man. " Let us remember that inchoosing things to play. 

Further on Ruskin says: "If stone work is _well_ put together, itmeans that a thoughtful man planned it, and a careful man cut it, andan honest man cemented it. " [34]

Likewise in these things one can see what is classic--work out of theheart and well done, and that comes from a thoughtful, careful, honestperson. 

CHAPTER IX. 

WHAT WE SHOULD PLAY. 

 "But blessings do not fall in listless hands. "_--Bayard Taylor. _

We already begin to understand what the classics are. Year by year asour interest in the beautiful increases, we shall gain more definiteknowledge about classic art. That which is classic will begin toannounce itself in us. Our own choice indicates our taste but does notalways indicate what is best for us. And one of the purposes of art isto improve the taste by setting before us the finest works; in these, by study, we find beauty with which we are unacquainted. Thus weenlarge our capacity for it. 

Because we are born with taste unformed and untrained you can at oncesee the reason for gradually increasing the tasks. They are always alittle more difficult--like going up a mountain--but they give a finerand finer view. The outlook from the mountain-top cannot be had all atonce. We must work our way upward for it. Hence you will observe inyour lessons that what was once a fitting task is no longer of quitethe same value because of your increased power. But about thisespecially we shall have a Talk later on. 

When one has heard much music of all kinds, one soon begins tounderstand that there are two kinds commonly chosen. Some playerschoose true music with pure thought in it, and do their best to playit well after the manner called for by the composer. Their aim is togive truthful expression to the music of a good writer. Other playersseem to work from a motive entirely different. They select music whichis of a showy character, with much brilliancy and little thought init. Their aim is not to show what good music is, but to showthemselves. The desire of the first is truth, of the second is vanity. 

Now, as we examine into this, and into both kinds of music, wediscover much. It proves that we must work for the best; for thetruthful music, not for the vain music. As we get better acquaintedwith true music we find it more and more interesting--it keeps sayingnew things to us. We go to it again and again, getting new meanings. But the showy music soon yields all it has; we find little or nothingmore in it than at first. As it was made not from good thought but fordisplay, we cannot find newer and more beautiful thought in it, andthe display soon grows tiresome. True music is like the light in abeautifully-cut gem, it seems that we never see all it is--it is nevertwice the same; always a new radiance comes from it because it is atrue gem through and through. It is full of true light, and true lightis always opposed to darkness; and darkness is the source ofignorance. 

From all this you can now understand the quaintly-expressed opinion ofa very wise man, who said: "In discharge of thy place, set before theethe best example. "[35] That means whatever we strive to learn shouldbe learned from works of the best kind. In the beginning, we cannotchoose wisely the best examples to set before ourselves; therefore itis for us to heed what another wise man said: "As to choice in thestudy of pieces, ask the advice of more experienced persons thanyourself; by so doing you will save much time. " [36] You thereby savetime doubly. Later on in your life you will have no bad taste toovercome--that is one saving; and already you know from childhood manyclassics, and that is another saving. What we learn in childhood is apower all our lives. 

You can see plainly, now, that both in the choice of pieces and in themanner of playing them, a person's character will come out. We saw inthe last Talk how character has to come out in writing. Only a verycommon character would select pieces written entirely for a vainshow--of rapid runs, glittering arpeggios, and loud, unmeaning chords. Worse than that, such a choice of pieces displays two commonpeople, --three, in fact: A composer who did not write pure thoughtfrom the heart; a teacher who did not instil good thoughts into thepupil's heart; and yourself (if really you care for such things) whoplay from a vain desire to be considered brilliant. 

A player who devotes the mind and the hands only to what a meaninglesscomposer writes for them is not worthy of any power. With our hands inmusic, as with the tongue in speech, let us strive from the beginningto be truthful. Let us try in both ways to express the highest truthwe are able to conceive. Then in art we shall, at least, approach nearunto the true artist; and in life we shall approach near unto the truelife. Every mere empty display-piece we study takes up the time andthe opportunity wherein we could learn a good composition, by a masterof the heart. And it is only with such music that you will, duringyour life, get into the hearts of those who are most worthy for you toknow. Out of just this thought Schumann has two rules now very easyfor us to understand:

"Never help to circulate bad compositions; on the contrary, help tosuppress them with earnestness. "

"You should neither play bad compositions, nor, unless compelled, listen to them. "

We now come to a really definite conclusion about the compositions weshould play and to an extent as to how we should play them. 

The heart, the mind, and the hands, or the voice, if you sing, shouldunite in our music; and be consecrated to the beautiful. Consecrate isjust exactly the word. Look for it in your dictionary. [37] It comesfrom two other words, does it not? _Con_ meaning _with_ and _sacer_meaning _holiness. _ Thus devote heart and head and hands _withholiness_ to the beautiful. This is very clear, I am sure. 

It is also worth doing. "With holiness" describes _how_ to play andreally _what_ to play. A composition which has been born of a true manis in thought already consecrated. He has heard it and felt it withinhimself. Daily you must get closer and closer to these messages andmeanings. And are they not already more _luminous_ to you? And do youremember what we said luminous means?

CHAPTER X. 

THE LESSON. 

 "All people value most what has cost them much labor. " --Aristotle. [38]

It is true that music is beautiful and that it gives us happiness andcomfort. But, nevertheless, music is hard to learn _for every one_;harder for some than for others, but hard for all. It is well and bestthat it should be so. We appreciate most highly that which we laborfor earnestly. Just imagine if every one could sing or play merely bywishing it! Then music would be so common and so much the talent ofall that it would cease to give us joy. Why? Because one gained it bya wish. That is not enough. From this can we learn to understand thegreat secret of it all? I think we can. Let us see! The secret isthis: Music is a joy because it takes us out of ourselves and we workhard to get it. Music teaches us what a wonderful power there iswithin us, if we will only strive to bring it out. Education is goodfor us for this same reason. As you learn more and more about words, you will see more in this word Education. 

It means to lead out _what is within us_. To lead music out of theheart becomes the object, then, of your lessons. One cannot drivemusic into you; it must be led out. 

Where shall we look for music that it may be led out? Only in theheart. That is where all is in every one of us. But often in ourhearts there is so much else, so much vanity, self-love, conceit, lovefor other things, that the music is almost beyond reach. _Almost_, butnever entirely. In the heart of every one is music. But often it isdeep, deep down, covered by these other things. The older we grow andthe more other things we see and think about, the deeper and deeperdown does the music get. 

It is like heaping rocks, and dirt, and sticks on a bubbling spring. The spring is down there, bubbling freely beneath it all, stillstriving to be as free and as songful as before; but it cannot. Peoplemay come and go, may pass near to it, and hear not one of its sounds;they may never suspect that there is such a thing ready to go onmerrily if it could. 

When is the best time to lead water out of the spring, and music outof the heart? Before other things begin to cover it. With music thebest time is in the early days, in childhood time--_in the firstdays_. We shall hear those words many times. Then little by little thebubbling spring of melody gains its independence; then, even if otherthings do come in, they cannot bury the music out of sight. The springhas been led forth _and has grown stronger_. 

Thoughtful people who have suffered in learning--all people suffer inlearning, thoughtful ones the most--wonder how they can make the taskless painful for others. It will always cause us sorrow as well as joyto learn, and many people spend their lives in trying to have aslittle sorrow as possible come with the learning of the young. Whensuch people are true and good and thoughtful and _have infinitekindness_, they are teachers; and the teachers impose tasks upon usseverely, perhaps, but with kind severity. They study us and music, and they seek out the work each one of us must perform in order thatwe may keep the heart-springs pure and uncovered. Further than this, they find the way by which we shall lead the waters of life which flowout of the heart-springs. They find the way whither they should flowbest. 

Often in the doing of these things we find the lessons hard andwearisome, infinitely hard to bear, difficult, and not attractive. Wewonder why all these things should be so, and we learn in the momentwe ask that question that these painful tasks are the price we arepaying for the development of our talent. That is truly the purpose ofa lesson. And the dear teacher, wise because she has been painfullyover the road herself, knows how good and necessary it is for us tolabor as she directs. 

Let us suppose you play the piano. There will be two kinds oflessons--one will be for the fingers, one for the mind. But really themind also guides the finger-work; and the heart must be in all. Yourexercises will give you greater power to speak with the fingers. Everynew finger-exercise in piano-playing is like a new word in language. Provided with it, you can say more than you could before. The work forthe mind is the classics. These are compositions by the greater andlesser masters with which you form the taste, while the technicalexercises are provided to give you the power, the ability, to playthem. Thus you see how well these two things go together. 

Year after year, if you go on patiently, you will add to each of thesetasks; more power will come to the fingers and to the mind. All thistime you will be coming nearer and nearer to the true music. More andmore will be coming out of your heart. The spring will not onlycontinue to bubble clearly but it will become more powerful. Nothingis so wonderful as that. 

Do you know what a sad thing it was for the man not to increase thatone talent which had been given to him? [39] Perchance you have alsoone. Then find it, love it, increase it. Know that every step of theway, every bit of task, every moment of faith is paid for in lateryears ten thousandfold. 

If now we remember our Talk on Listening it will serve us. Did we notsay then that the first duty of a listener is to the one who speaksfor his good? Lesson time is an opportunity above nearly all otherswhen we should listen with love in our attention. Yes, nothing lessthan that, because--how many times we have heard it already--puttinglove into anything, is putting the heart into it, and with less thanthat we do not get all we may have. 

This Talk, then, is important, because it gathers together many thingsthat have gone before, and hints at some to come. Let us give the lastwords to speaking about that. A lesson suggests listening; listeningsuggests the teacher, who with infinite kindness and severity guidesus; and the teacher suggests the beautiful road along which we go andwhat we hear as we travel, that is the music of the heart; and themusic of the heart has in it the tones about us, and the greater andlesser masters who thought them into beautiful forms. The masters areas servants unto whom there is given to some one talent, to otherstwo, and four, and more, but to each according to his worth, to beguided and employed in truth and honor; increased by each inaccordance to his strength. 

CHAPTER XI. 

THE LIGHT ON THE PATH. 

 "Let us seek service and be helpers of one another. "

"Master, " said the little child, "I am unhappy. Though I havecompanions and games, they do not content me. Even the music which Ilove above all the rest is not truly in my heart; nor is it thepleasure to me which it should be. What am I to do?"

And the master replied:

"There is a task, the greatest and severest of all. But a child mustlearn it. Thou must know _from the first days_, that all thou doestand sayest, whither thou goest, what thou seekest; these, all these, come from within. All that is seen of thee is of thy inner life. Allthy doings, thy goings and comings, thy ways and thy desires, theseare from within. And when all these things _are for thyself_ there ismisery. 

"Now there are many things which may not be had by directly seekingthem; of these the greatest are two. The one is that which already hasgiven thee sadness in the heart, --the Light of the Face. And the otheris happiness. 

"But there is a way in which these are to be found. Dost thou not knowthat often, even with much trouble, thou canst not please thyself? Butalways, _with little trouble or none_, thou canst please another. 

"And the way is Service. 

"Thou poor little one! Thou hast come with thy complaint ofunhappiness; and yet thou hast all that is bright and rare;companions, and music, and a dear home. Dost thou know that there arein the world uncounted poor ones, children like thyself, who have nottheir daily bread? And yet there are many of them who never fail tosay: 'Lead us not into temptation. ' And they say this _without havingtasted_ of the daily bread for which they have been taught to pray. 

"And thou? Thou art unhappy. And thy daily bread is set before theewith music and with sunshine. 

"Yet there are little ones, like thyself, who are hungry in thedarkness. 

"And thou? Thou art unhappy. "

CHAPTER XII. 

THE GREATER MASTERS. 

 "In spite of all, I have never interrupted the study of music. " --_Palestrina. _

An opera writer of Italy, named Giovanni Pacini, once said that tostudy the writings of Mozart, Haydn, and Beethoven "lightens the mindof a student, since the classics are a continuous development of themost beautiful and simple melodies, " and we sometimes hear it saidthat great men are they who dare to be simple. In our Talks thus farwe have learned one important fact, which is, that music is truthexpressed out of the heart. Of course we know that to be in the heartit must be felt, and to be expressed we must know a great deal aboutwriting. Now we are able to imagine quite well what a great master isin music. As Pacini says, his melodies will be simple and beautiful, and as we ourselves know, his simple melodies will be an expression oftruth out of the heart. 

But to go only as far as this would not be enough. Many can writesimply and well, and truthfully, yet not as a master. There must besomething else. When we have found out what that something else is weshall understand the masters better and honor them more. 

Everywhere in the history of music we read of what men have beenwilling to do for the love of their art. It is not that they have beenwilling to do when told; but that they have cheerfully done painful, laborious tasks of their own accord. The name of every master willrecall great labor willingly given for music and equally greatsuffering willingly endured, nay, even sought out, that the musicmight be purer to them. Poor Palestrina went along many years throughlife with the scantiest means. But, as he says, "in spite of all, Ihave never interrupted the study of music. " Bach was as simple andloyal a citizen as any land could have, and from the early years whenhe was a fatherless boy to the days of his sad affliction, hesacrificed always. Think of the miles he walked to hear Buxterhude, the organist; and in the earlier years, when he lived with JohannChristopher, his brother, how eagerly he sought learning in the artthat so fascinated him. It was a constant willingness to learnhonestly that distinguished him. 

Any of us who will labor faithfully with the talents we have can do agreat deal--more than we would believe. Even Bach himself said to apupil: "If thou art _equally_ diligent thou wilt succeed as Ihave. "[40] He recognized that it matters little how much we wish forthings to be as we want them; unless our wish-thoughts are forced intoprompt action we cannot succeed; for while all thoughts seek action, wish-thoughts demand the most labor. 

It would be pleasant to have a Talk about every one of the greatmasters to see in what particular way each of them sacrificed for theart he loved. In all of them the true qualities come out: in one asearnestness; in another as determination; in another as patriotism;but all are loyal to the art itself. It must be a very plain lesson tous to see that when men are willing to give all their thoughts to asubject they get much from it. And is it not quite as plain to seethat no one can get much if he gives but a few unwilling minutes toit? I trust none who hear these Talks will ever think that with alittle time given to their music, and that not freely given, they canever get either pleasure or comfort from it. They never can. Andrather than do it so they would better leave it undone. If we set outon the way to go to the masters we shall get there only byearnestness. Lagging is a disgrace to the one who travels and to theone to whom we go. It shows his laziness on the one hand, and hismisunderstanding of the master on the other; for if he understood hewould take no listless step. 

Now we have said again and again that true music comes from the heart, and is simple. At the same time we find it difficult to understand themusic of the masters. That is, some of us find it so. It seemsanything but simple to us; and naturally we conclude that there issomething wrong somewhere. We sit at our tasks, poring over the music, and we grow discouraged because we cannot play it. To think it a veryhard task is natural, and we cannot bear to hear such tones. Well, letus not get discouraged for that; let us see!

First of all, the playing is more difficult to do than the music is tounderstand. Once a great master of the piano played to a lady who hadnever heard a great master before, and the playing was like beautifullace. When it was over and the master had gone away, some one askedthe lady how he had played, and she said:

"He played so that the music sounded as I thought it should. "

And they asked her what she meant. 

"Always I have been taught, " she said, "to listen to music and tothink it. I have been taught this more than I have been taught toplay. And the music of the master-composers I always think of asbeautiful and simple but hard to make it sound as it should. Often Ihave heard others say that the music of the masters is dull, and notbeautiful, but that is really not what the people feel. It isdifficult for them to play the music rightly. And again they cannotunderstand this: that art is often simple in, its truth, while thosewho look upon it are not! simple-hearted, as they regard it. This ishard to understand, but it is the true reason. "

Now, if we think of what this cultured lady said, we shall think herwise. Whatever stumbling we may do with our fingers, let us still keepin our minds the purity of the music itself. This will in a senseteach us to regard reverentially the men who, from early years, haveadded beauties to art for us to enjoy to-day. The wisest of the Greeks[41] said:

"The treasures of the wise men of old, which they have left written inbooks, I turn over and peruse in company with my friends, and if wefind anything good in them, we remark it, and think it a great gain, if we thus become more attracted to one another. "

Once an English lady[42] wrote about a verse-writer: "No poet everclothed so few ideas in so many words. " Just opposite to this is atrue poet, he who clothes in few words many and noble ideas. A mastertells his message in close-set language. 

Now, in the last minutes, let us see what a great master is:

 I. He will be one who tells a beautiful message simply. 

 II. He has been willing to sacrifice and suffer for his art. 

 III. He has lived his every day in the simple desire to know his own heart better. 

 IV. Always he has concentrated his message into as few tones as possible, and his music, therefore, becomes filled to overflowing with meaning. 

About the meaning of the masters, one of them has written this:"Whenever you open the music of Bach, Mozart, or Beethoven, itsmeaning comes forth to you in a thousand different ways. " That isbecause thousands of different messages from the heart have been_concentrated_ in it. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

THE LESSER MASTERS. 

 "And the soul of a child came into him again. "--_I Kings, XVII: 22. _

If, one day, some one should say to you, earnestly: "Well day are toyou!" you would scarcely know what to make of it. You would at onceunderstand that the person had knowledge of words but could not putthem together rightly. And if the person continued to talk to you inthis manner you might feel inclined to lose your patience and notlisten. But if you would stop and consider things and examine yourselfyou would learn something well worth thinking about. 

You would discover that your own ability to put words in the rightorder has come from being obedient. First of all, you have beenwilling to imitate what others said until you have thereby learned tospeak quite well. Besides that, you have been corrected many times bythose about you at home, and in school, until language is at length acareful habit in you. Every one knows at once what you mean. You see, therefore, that you may combine words in such a manner that you willbe easily comprehended by others; or, as in the case of the imaginaryperson we began with, they may be combined in a perfectly senselessway. Consequently, it is not enough to know words alone, we must knowwhat to do with them. The true art of using words is to put full andclear meaning into a few of them; to say as much as possible with asfew words as you may select. 

Tones may be treated in the same manner as words. One can write tonesin such a manner as to say quite as senseless a thing as "Well day areto you!" Many do. This teaches you that true and simpletone-sentences, like similar word-sentences, must have for theirobject to say the fullest and clearest meaning in as little space aspossible. 

For many hundreds of years thoughtful composers have studied aboutthis. They have tried in every way to discover the secrets underlyingtone-writing so that the utmost meaning should come out when they areunited. Tones thus arranged according to the laws of music-writingmake sense. To learn this art all great composers have studieduntiringly. They have recognized the difficulty of putting muchmeaning in little space, and to gain this ability they have found nolabor to be too severe. 

We must remember that there is no end of music in the world which wasnot written by the few men whom we usually call the great composers. Perhaps you will be interested to know about these works. Many of themare really good--your favorite pieces, no doubt. When we think of it, it is with composers as with trees of the forest. Great and small, strong and weak, grow together for the many purposes for which theyare created. They could not all be either great or small. There mustbe many kinds; then the young in time take the place of the old, andthe strong survive the weak. Together beneath the same sky, deep-rooted in the beautiful, bountiful earth, they grow side by side. The same sun shines upon them all, the same wind and the same raincome to them, selecting no one before another. What are they alldoing? Each living its true life, as best it can. It is true they maynot come and go, they may not choose, but as we see them, beautiful intheir leaves and branches we feel the good purpose to which they liveand, unconsciously, perhaps, we love them. 

Among us it is quite the same. Some are more skilful than others. Butbe our skill great or small, we are not truly using it until we havedevoted it to a worthy purpose. And as with us, so it is with themusicians. There are the great and small. The great ones--leaders ofthought--we call the great masters. The lesser are earnest men, whohave not as much power as the masters, but they are faithful in smallthings. 

They sing lesser songs it is true, but not less beautiful ones. Oftenthese lesser ones think more as we do. They think simply and about thethings which we have often in our minds. It is such thoughts as thesewhich we have in our best moments that we love so much when we seethem well expressed by one who is a good and delicate writer, eitherof tones or words. Particularly do we understand these thoughts wellin the first years of our music when nearly all the works of thegreater composers are above us. 

Thus are the many composers (who yet are not great masters) of valueto us because they write well a kind of thought which is pure and fullof meaning, and which we can understand. They give us true pleasureday after day in the beginning and seem at the same time to help usonward to the ability of understanding the great masters. This they doby giving our thought training in the right direction. 

Now, we know that the very best music for a young musician to learn inthe first days is that of the lesser tone masters, together with thosesimpler pieces of the great composers which come within his power tocomprehend--within the power of a child's hands and voice. Let us see, once again, if it is not clear:

True composers, great and small, sing from the heart. If one having alittle skill turn it unworthily away from the good and true work hemight do, then he does not use rightly his one talent. He does notgive us true thought in tone. He writes for vanity or a low purpose, and is not a lesser master but he is untrue. 

It is not our right to play anything. We may rightly play only thatwhich is full of such good thought as we in our power may understand. It is to supply us with just this that the lesser masters write. Insimple, yet clear and beautiful pictures, they tell us many and many asecret of the world of tone into which we shall some day be welcomedby the greater ones if we are faithful unto the lesser. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

HARMONY AND COUNTERPOINT. 

 "Whilst I was in Florence, I did my utmost to learn the exquisite manner of Michaelangelo, and never once lost sight of it. "--_Benvenuto Cellini. _[43]

On any important music subject Schumann has something to say. So withthis:

"Learn betimes the fundamental principles of harmony. " "Do not beafraid of the words theory, thorough-bass, and the like, they willmeet you as friends if you will meet them so. "

We now begin to feel how definitely these rules treat everything. Theypick out the important subjects and tell the simplest truth aboutthem. The meaning of these two rules is this: From the beginning wemust try to understand the grammar of music. Some of the greatcomposers could in childhood write down music with the greatestfluency. Handel, even as a boy, wrote a new church composition forevery Sunday. Mozart began to write music when less than five yearsold, and when he was yet a boy, in Rome, he wrote down acomposition, [44] sung by the choir of the Sistine Chapel, which wasforbidden to the public. 

Harmony and counterpoint stand to music very much as spelling andgrammar stand to language. They are the fundamentals of good writingand of good--that is, of correct--thinking in music. Harmony is theart of putting tones together so as correctly to make chords. Counterpoint has to do with composing and joining together simplemelodies. A modern writer[45] on counterpoint has said: "The essenceof true counterpoint lies in the equal interest which should belong toever part. " By examining a few pieces of good counterpoint you willreadily see just what this means. The composer has not tried to getmerely a correct chord succession, such as we find in a choral. Let usplay a choral; any good one of a German master will do. [46] We noticethat the soprano is the principal part, and that the other voices, while somewhat melodic, tend rather to support and follow the melodythan to be independent. If, now, we play a piece of counterpoint likethe G-Minor Prelude by Bach, [47] we shall have quite a good piece ofcounterpoint, as far as separate melodies being combined is concerned. Let us play the voice-parts separately. We shall find equal melodicinterest in each. The chords grow out of the music. Comparing thiswith the choral, the main difference between harmony and counterpointshould be clear to us. We shall observe that the three voices do _not_proceed in the same way. If one part moves quickly, as in the bass ofthe first two measures, the other parts are quieter; if the bassceases to move rapidly some other voice will take up the motion, as wesee in the third and following measures. As a general thing no twovoices in contrapuntal writing move in the same way, each voice-partbeing contrasted with different note-values. This gives greaterinterest and makes each voice stand forth independently. 

At first contrapuntal music may not seem interesting to us. If that isso, it is because we are not in the least degree conscious of thewonderful interest which has been put into every part. The truth is, that in the beginning we cannot fully understand the thought that hasbeen put into the music, but by perseverance it will come to us littleby little. This is what makes great music lasting. It is so deftlymade, yet so delicately, that we have to go patiently in search of it. We must remember that gems have to be cut and polished from a bit ofrock. 

In this case the gem is the rich mind-picture which comes to us if wefaithfully seek the under-thought. And the seeking is polishing thegem. 

Music written entirely by the rules of counterpoint is calledcontrapuntal music; that written otherwise is known as free harmonicmusic. In the one case the composer desired to have a beautifulweaving of the parts--clear as the lines in a line-engraving. In theother, the intention is to get effects from tones united into chords, such as is obtained from masses of color in a painting. Neither formmay be said to be the superior of the other. Each is valuable in itsplace, and each has possibilities peculiarly its own, which the othercould not give. Pure counterpoint could not give us such a charmingeffect as Chopin obtains in the first study of Opus 10; nor could theplainer and more free harmonic style give us such delicate bits oftracery as Bach has in his fugues. 

If now you will take the trouble to learn two long words, later inyour study of music they will be of use to you. The first isPolyphonic; the other is Monophonic. Both, like many other words inour language, are made up of two shorter words, and come from anotherlanguage--Greek. In both we have "phonic, " evidently meaning the samein each case, limited or modified by the preceding part--_poly_ and_mono_. Phonic is the Anglicized Greek for _sound_. We use it in theEnglish word _telephonic_. Now if we define mono and poly we shallunderstand these two long words. 

Mono means one, poly means many. We say _mono_tone, meaning one tone;also _poly_gon, meaning many sides. 

In the musical reference monophonic music means music of one voice, rather than of one tone, and polyphonic music is that _for manyvoices_. Simple melodies with or without accompanying chords aremonophonic; many melodies woven together, as in the Bach piece whichwe have looked over, are polyphonic. 

In the history of music two men surpassed all others in what theyaccomplished in counterpoint--that is, in polyphonic writing. The onewas Palestrina, an Italian; the other was Bach, a German. Palestrinalived at a time when the music of the church was very poor, so poor, indeed, that the clergy could no longer endure it. Palestrina, however, devoted himself earnestly to composing music strictly adaptedto the church use. The parts were all melodic, and woven together withsuch great skill that they yet remain masterpieces of contrapuntalwriting. Later Bach developed counterpoint very much more in themodern way. He did with polyphony for the piano and organ much thesame as Palestrina did for the voice. There have never lived greatermasters than these in the art of polyphonic music. 

There is still another form of writing which is neither strictlyharmonic, nor strictly contrapuntal, --it is a combination of both. There is not the plain unadorned harmonic progress as in the simplechoral, nor is there the strict voice progression as in the works ofBach. This form of writing which partakes of the beauties of both theothers has been called the free harmonic style. It has been followedby all the great masters since the time of Bach, [48] even before, indeed. If you can imagine a beautiful song-melody with an artisticaccompaniment, so arranged that all can be played upon the piano, youwill understand what the third style is. It is wonderfully free, surely; sometimes proceeding in full free chords, as in the openingmeasures of the B flat Sonata of Beethoven, [49] again running awayfrom all freedom back to the old style, until the picture looks as oldas a monkish costume among modern dress. 

All of the great sonatas and symphonies are of this wonderfully variedform of writing. How full it can be of expressiveness you know fromthe Songs without Words by Mendelssohn, and the Nocturnes of Chopin;how full of flickering humor you hear in the Scherzo of a Beethovensymphony; how full of deep solemnity and grief one feels in thefuneral marches. [50]

This school of composition has been followed by both the greater andthe lesser masters. Every part is made to say something as naturallyand interestingly as possible, being neither too restricted nor toofree. Then, in playing, both hands must be equally intelligent, foreach has an important part assigned to it. 

The great good of study in harmony and counterpoint is that itincreases one's appreciation. As soon as we begin to understand thespirit of good writing we begin to play better, _because we see more_. We begin, perhaps in a small way, to become real music-thinkers. Byall these means we learn to understand better and better what themeaning of true writing is. It will be clear to us that a composer isone who thinks pure thoughts in tone, and not one who is a weaver ofdeceits. 

CHAPTER XV. 

MUSIC AND READING. 

 "Truly it has been said, a loving heart is the beginning of all knowledge. "--_Thomas Carlyle. _

A beautiful thing in life is the friendship for books. Every one wholoves books pays some day a tribute to them, expressing thankfulnessfor the joy and comfort they have given. There are in them, foreverybody who will seek, wise words, good counsel, companies of greatpeople, fairies, friends for every day, besides wonders we never seenor dream of in daily life. 

Some of the great men have told us about their love for books; howthey have saved penny by penny slowly to buy one, or how after theday's labor a good book and the firelight were prized above anythingelse. All tell us how much they owe to books and what a blessing booksare. Imagine the number of heart-thoughts there must be in a shelffull of good books! Thoughts in tones or thoughts in words may be ofthe heart or not. But it is only when they are of the heart that theyare worthy of our time. 

You will not only love books, but gain from them something of thethoughts they contain. We might, had we time, talk of classic books, but as we have already talked of classic music we know what theprincipal thing is. It is that good thought, out of the heart, beexpressed in a scholarly way--"Great thought needs greatexpression. "[51] This teaches us the necessity for choosing good booksfor our instruction and for our entertainment. They present beautifulpictures to us truthfully, or they present truth to us beautifully. And these are the first test of a written thought--its truth and itsbeauty. 

If you read good books you will have in every volume you get somethingwell worth owning. You should bestow upon it as much care as you wouldwant any other good friend to receive. And if it has contributed helpor pleasure to you it is surely worth an abiding place. A finepleasure will come from a good book even after we are quite done withit. As we see it in years after it has been read there comes back toone a remembrance of all the old pleasures, and with it a sense ofthankfulness for so pleasant a friendship. Hence any book that hasgiven us joy or peace or comfort is well worth not only good care, buta place _for always_; as a worthy bit of property. 

In the early days of your music study, it will be a pleasure to you toknow that there are many and delightful books _about_ music written, sometimes by music-lovers, sometimes by the composers. The writtenword-thoughts of the composers are often full of great interest. Theynot only reveal to us many secrets of the tone-art, but teach us muchabout the kinds of things and of thoughts which lived in the minds ofthe composers. We learn definitely not only the music-interests of thecomposers, but the life-interest as well. It really seems as if wewere looking into their houses, seeing the way they lived and worked, and listening to their words. Never afterward do we regard the greatnames in music as uninteresting. The most charming and attractivepictures cluster about them and it all gives us a new inspiration tobe true to music, loyal to the truth of music, and willing to do as wesee others have done, and to learn by doing. The lesson we get fromthe life of every man is, that he must _do_ if he would learn. 

I am sure you will spend many delightful minutes with the Letters of agreat composer. Every one is like a talk with the writer. They are sofriendly, and so full of the heart, and yet so filled with the manhimself. Especially the Letters of Mendelssohn and Schumann willplease you. In truth the Letters of all the composers are among themost valuable music writings we have. In some way they seem to explainthe music itself: and the composer at once becomes a close friend. Butbesides these read the biographies. Then it is as if we werepersonally invited home to the composer and shown all his ways and hislife. And besides these, there are some friendly books full of thevery best advice as to making us thoughtful musicians; many and manyagain are the writers who have so loved art--not the art of tonealone, but all other arts as well--that they have told us of it ingood and earnest books which are friendly, because they are writtenfrom the right place; and that you must know by this time is theheart. 

You will soon see when you have read about the composers that truemusic comes out of true life. Then you will begin to love true life, to be useful, and to help others. But all these things do not come atonce. Yet, as we go along step by step, we learn that art isunselfish, and we must be so to enjoy it; art is truthful--we must beso to express it; art is full of life--we must know and live truth inorder to appreciate it. And the study of pure thoughts in music, inbooks, and in our own life will help to all this. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE HANDS. 

 "The skill of their hands still lingers. "--_John Ruskin. _[52]

In one of our Talks, speaking about the thoughts in our hearts, wesaid that they crept from the heart into our arms and hands, into themusic we play, and off to those who hear us, causing in them thethoughts by which they judge us. Thus we see, that as Janus standssentinel at the doorway of the year, so the hands stand between thesecret world of thought within and the questioning world of curiositywithout. 

If we were not in such a hurry usually, we might stop to think thatevery one, all over the world, is training the hands for some purpose. And such a variety of purposes! One strives to get skill with tools, another is a conjurer, another spends his life among beautiful anddelicate plants, another reads with his fingers. [53] In any one ofthese or of the countless other ways that the hands may be used, noone may truly be said to have skill until delicacy has been gained. Even in a forcible use of the hands there must be the greatestdelicacy in the guidance. You can readily see that when the hands areworking at the command of the heart they must be ever ready to makeevident the meaning of the heart, and that is expressed in truthfuldelicacy. Not only are all the people in the world training theirhands, but they are, as we have already said, training them incountless different ways. 

Have you ever stopped to think of another matter: that all thingsabout us, except the things that live, have been made by hands? And ofthe things that live very many are cared for by the hands. Thesethoughts will suggest something to us. Those things which are good andbeautiful suggest noble use of the hands; while those which are of noservice, harmful and destructive, show an ignoble use. But noble andignoble use of the hands is only another evidence of thought. Thoughtthat is pure in the heart guides the hands to beautiful ends. And ifthe heart is impure in its thoughts, of course you know what follows. 

I have always been impressed in reading the books of John Ruskin tonote how many times he speaks about the hands. Very truly, indeed, does he recognize that back of all hand work there is heart-thought, commanding, directing, actually building. It shows everywhere. Thebuilding of a wall with the stones rightly placed demands _honor_. Thebuilder may be rude, but if his hands place the stones faithfully oneupon another, there is surely honor in his heart. If it were not sohis hands could not work faithfully. 

If the work is finer, like that work in gold which many have learnedeagerly in former times, in Rome and Florence, still the spirit mustbe the same. So we see, that be the work coarse or fine, it is ineither case prompted by the same kind of heart-thought. 

Many times in these Talks I have spoken of Ruskin's words to you; fortwo reasons: first, his words are always full of meaning, because hewas so full of thought when he wrote them; and second, I would haveyou, from the first days, know something of him and elect him to yourfriendship. Many times he will speak to you in short, rude words, impatiently too, but never mind that, his heart is warm and full ofgood. 

Now from what was said a moment ago about the stone work and the goldwork we can understand these words:

"No distinction exists between artist and artisan, except that ofhigher genius or better conduct. "

Learn from this then, be the work of our hands what it may, its firstquality and the first things for which it shall be judged are itshonor, its faithfulness, and its sincerity. 

Of themselves the hands are absolutely without power. They cannotmove, they cannot do good things nor bad things, they can do nothinguntil we command them. And how shall this be done? Surely I canunderstand it if you have wearied of this Talk a little. But I havesaid all the things just for the sake of answering this question, sothat you should understand it. How do we command? not the hands alonebut all we do and say?

By our THOUGHTS. 

Without them there is no power whatever. Until they have commanded, the hands cannot make a motion; the feet must have direction orderedto them, the tongue must be bidden to speak, and without the commandthere is nothing. 

Of course, all these Talks are about thoughts. But we shall need alittle time to speak of them particularly. And little by little itwill be clear to us all why the hands need to act thoughtfully. Nowthe harm of the world is done by two forces, --by evil thought and bythoughtlessness. Then it is no wonder that Ruskin speaks much aboutthe hands, for it is thought that gives them guidance. Can you wonder, that when he says, "the idle and loud of tongue" he associates the"_useless hand_. "[54] These things go together, and together they comeeither from evil thought or from lack of thought. The moment Ruskinspeaks of one who uses his hands with honor, his words glow. So hespeaks of the laborer, describing him as "silent, serviceable, honorable, keeping faith, untouched by change, to his country and toHeaven. "

Thus, when we are earnestly asked to do something worthy with thehands every day, we can understand why. I do not mean one worthything, but some one particular worthy act, especially thought out byus. To do that daily with forethought will purify the heart. It willteach us to devote the hands to that which is worthy. Then another oldtruth that every one knows will be clear to us: "As a man--or a child, for that matter--thinketh in his heart, _so he is_. "

Bit by bit the thoughts of this Talk will become clear to you. Youwill feel more friendly toward them. Then you will really begin tothink about hands; your own hands and everybody's hands. You willbecome truthful of hand, guiding your own thoughtfully; watching thoseof others carefully. And you will find that in the smallest tasks ofyour hands you can put forethought, while every use to which peopleput their hands will teach you something if you observe carefully. Itmay be folding a paper or picking up a pin, or anything else quitecommon; that matters not, common things, like any others, can be donerightly. 

By this observation we shall see hands performing all sorts of oddtricks. The fingers are drumming, twitching, twirling, closing, opening, doing a multitude of motions which mean what? Nothing, do yousay? Oh! no, indeed; not _nothing_ but _something_. Fingers and handswhich perform all these unnecessary motions are not being commanded bythe thoughts, and are acting as a result of _no_ thought; that is, ofthoughtlessness. Every one does it do you say? No, that is not true. Many do these things, but those who command their thoughts never allowit. If we never moved the hands except in a task when we commandedthem, we should soon become hand-skilled. The useless movements I havespoken of _un_skill the hand. They are undoing motions, and teach usthat we must govern ourselves if we would become anything. Do you knowhow it is that people do great things? They command themselves. Havingdetermined to do something, they work and work and work to finish itat any cost. That gives strength and character. 

Having observed the hands and their duties, we can readily see thekind of task they must do in music. It is just the same kind of taskas laying a wall of stone. Every motion must be done honorably. Everything must be thought out in the mind and heart before the handsare called upon to act. Wise people always go about their tasks thisway. Unwise people try the other way, of acting first and thinking itout afterward, and, of course, they always fail. You can nowunderstand that a great pianist is one who has great thought withwhich to command the hands. And to be sure they will obey his commandsat once, he has made them obey him continuously for years. Thisteaching the hands to obey is called Practice. 

The Italian artist, Giotto, once said:

"You may judge my masterhood of craft by seeing that I can draw acircle unerringly. "

CHAPTER XVII. 

WHAT THE ROMAN LADY SAID. 

 "You may always be successful if you do but set out well, and let good thoughts and practice proceed upon right method. "--_Marcus Aurelius. _[55]

The same wise Roman emperor who said this tells us a very pretty thingabout his mother, which shows us what a wise lady she must have been, and how in the days of his manhood, with the cares of a great nationupon him, he yet pondered upon the childhood teaching of home. First, he speaks of his grandfather Verus, who, by his example, taught himnot to be prone to anger; then of his father, the Emperor AntoninusPius, from whom he learned to be modest and manly; then of his mother, whose name was Domitia Calvilla. Let us read some of his own wordsabout her, dwelling particularly upon a few of them. He writes: "Asfor my mother, she taught me to have regard for religion, to begenerous and open-handed, and not only to forbear from doing anybodyan ill turn, _but not so much as to endure the thought of it_. "

Now these words are the more wonderful when we remember that they werenot taken down by a scribe in the pleasant apartments of the royalpalace in Rome, but were written by the Emperor himself on thebattlefield; for this part of his famous book is signed: "Written inthe country of the Quadi. "

In our last Talk on the Hands we came to the conclusion, that unlessthe hands were commanded they could not act. And on inquiring as towhat gave these commands we found it was the thoughts. Many peoplebelieve it is perfectly safe to think anything, to have even evilthoughts in their hearts, for thoughts being hidden, they say, cannotbe seen by others. But a strange thing about thought is this: Themoment we have a thought, good or bad, it strives to get out of us andbecome an action. And it most always succeeds. Not at once, perhaps, for thoughts like seeds will often slumber a long time before theyspring into life. So it becomes very clear to us that if we wish to beon the alert we must not watch our actions, but look within and guardthe thoughts; for they are the springs of action. 

You now see, I am sure, how wise the Emperor's mother was in teachingher boy not even to _endure_ a thought to do evil unto others. For thethought would get stronger and stronger, and suddenly become anaction. Certainly; and hence the first thing to learn in this Talk isjust these words:

Thoughts become actions. 

That is an important thing. In a short time you will see, that if youdo not learn it you can never enjoy music, nor beautiful things, northe days themselves. Let us see how this will come about. 

I have told your teacher[56] the name of the book which was written bythe Roman lady's boy. Well, in that book, running through it like agolden thread, is this bit of teaching from his mother. 

Not only did he think of it and write it on the battlefield, but atall times there seemed to come to him more and more wisdom from it. And he tells us this same thought over and over again in differentwords. Sometimes it leads him to say very droll things; for instance:

"Have you any sense in your head? Yes. Why do you not make use of itthen? For if this does its part, for what more can you wish?"[57]Then, a very good thought which we frequently hear:

"Your manners will very much depend upon what you frequentlythink. "[58] There are many others, but these show us that the meaningof his mother's words went deep, teaching that not action must beguarded but the thought which gives rise to action. Now, what can bethe value of speaking about the Roman lady? Let us see. 

In music, the tones are made either by the hands or by the voice. Andto make a tone is to _do_ something. This doing something is anaction, and action comes from thought. No music, then, can be madeunless it be made by thinking. And the right playing of good musicmust come from the right thinking of good thoughts. It may be that youwill hear some one say that to think good thoughts is not needed inmaking good music. Never believe it! Bad thought never made anythinggood, and _never_ will because it never can. In the very first daysyou must learn, that good things of all kinds come from good thoughts, because they can come from nothing else. 

Here, then, is the second truth of this Talk:

Good music being the fruit of good thought can be played rightly onlyby one who thinks good thoughts. 

This leads us to another matter. First, let us see if everything isclear. True music is written out of good thought; hence, when we beginto study music we are really becoming pupils of good thought. We arelearning the thoughts good men have had, trying to feel their truthand meaning, and from them learning to have our own thoughts not onlygood but constantly better and better. This now seems simple andnecessary. We see that if we would faithfully study a composer's workit must be our principal aim to get into his heart. Then everythingwill be clear to us. 

But we can never find our way to the heart of another until we havefirst found our way somewhere else. Where, do you think? To our ownhearts, being willing to be severe with ourselves; not to be deceitfulin our own eyes; not to guard the outer act, but the inner thought;not to study nor to be what _seems_, but what _is_. [59] This may seema long and roundabout way of learning to play music, but it is thehonest, straightforward way of going to the great masters whom we wishto know. 

In one of the books of the Greek general, Xenophon, [60] Socrates ismade to say that men do nothing without fire; and quite in the sameway we may learn nothing of each other, especially of those greaterthan ourselves, without thought; which should be pure, strong, inquiring, and kind. With this we may do all. 

Thus far we have two principles. Let us review them:

 I. Thoughts become actions. 

 II. Good music being the fruit of good thought can be played rightly only by one who thinks good thoughts. 

Now, is it not clear that this can come about only when we watch overour own thoughts and govern them as if they were the thoughts ofothers? And when we do not so much as _endure_ the thought of harm orevil or wrong we shall be living in the spirit of the Roman lady whoseson's life was lived as his mother taught. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE GLORY OF THE DAY. 

 "Be not anxious about to-morrow. Do to-day's duty, fight today's temptation; and do not weaken and disturb yourself by looking forward to things which you cannot see, and could not understand if you saw them. "--_Charles Kingsley. _

Nearly all of us have heard about the little child who one day plantedseeds and kept constantly digging them up afterward to see if theywere growing. No doubt the child learned that a seed needs not onlyground and care, but time. When it is put in the earth it begins tofeel its place and to get at home; then, if all is quite right, --butnot otherwise--it sends out a tiny rootlet as if it would say that ittrusts and believes the earth will feed that rootlet. And if the earthis kind the root grows and finds a solid foothold. At the same timethere is another thing happening. When the seed finds it can trustitself to root it feels no longer afraid to show itself. It goes down, down quietly for a _firmer hold_, and upward feeling the desire forlight. 

_A firm hold and more light_, we cannot think too much of what theymean. 

Every day that the seed pushes its tender leaves and stem upward ithas more and more to encounter. The rains beat it down; the winds bendit to the very earth from which it came; leaves and weeds bury itbeneath their strength and abundance, but despite all these things, inthe face of death itself, the brave little plant strongly keeps itsplace. It grows in the face of danger. But how? Day after day, as itfights its way in the air and sunshine, blest or bruised as it may be, the little plant never fails to keep at one thing. That is, to get afirmer and firmer hold. From that it never lets go. Break its leavesand its stem, crush it as you will, stop its upward growth even, butas long as there is a spark of life in it there will be more rootsmade. It aims from the first moment of its life to get hold strongly. 

And it seems as if the plant has always a great motive. The moment itfeels it has grasped the mother-earth securely with its roots it turnsits strength to making something beautiful. In the air and light, inthe dark earth even, every part of the plant is seeking for the meansto do a wonderful thing. It drinks in the sunshine, and with thewarmth of it, _and to the glory of its own life_, it blossoms. It hascome from a tiny helpless seed to a living plantlet with the smalleststem and root, and while the stem fights for a place in the air theroot never ceases to get a strong hold of the dear earth in which theplant finds its home. Then when the home is firmly secured and thedays have made the plant stronger and more shapely, it forgets all therude winds and rain and the drifting leaves, and shows how joyful itis to live _by giving something_. 

Then it is clear that every hardship had its purpose. The rains beatit down, but at the same time they were feeding it; the leaves droppedabout and covered it, but that protected its tenderness: and thus inall the trials it finds a blessing. Its growth is stronger, andthankful for all its life it seeks to express this thankfulness. Inits heart there is something it is sure. And true enough, out it comessome day in a flower with its color and tenderness and perfume; allfrom the earth, but taken from it by love which the plant feels forthe ground as its home. 

We can see from this, that the beauty of a plant or of a tree is asign of its relation to the earth in which it lives. If its hold isweak--if it loosely finds a place for a weak root--it lies on theground, helpless, strengthless, joyless. But firmly placed and feelingsafe in its security, it gives freely of its blossoms; or, year afteryear, like a tree, shows us its wonderous mass of leaf, all of it asign that earth and tree are truely united. 

It has been said, and no doubt it is true, that one who cares forplants and loves them becomes patient. The plant does not hurry; itsgrowth is slow and often does not show itself; and one who cares forthem learns their way of being and of doing. The whole lesson is thatof allowing time, and by using it wisely to save it. The true glory ofa day for a plant is the air and sunlight and earth-food which it hastaken, from which it has become stronger. And every day, one by one, as it proves, contributes something to its strength. 

All men who have been patient students of the earth's ways havelearned to be careful, to love nature, and to take time. And we allmust learn to take time. It is not by careless use that we gainanything, but by putting heart and mind into what must be done. Whenheart and mind enter our work they affect time curiously; because ofthe great interest we take in what we do time is not thought of; andwhat is not thought of, is not noticed. 

Hence, the value of time comes to this: to use any time we may have, much or little, with the heart in the task. When that is done there isnot only better work accomplished but there are no regrets lingeringabout to make us feel uncomfortable. 

A practice hour can only be an hour of unwelcome labor when one thinksso of it. If we go to the piano with interest in the playing we shallbe unconscious of time. Many men who love their labor tell of sittingfor hours at their work not knowing that hours have gone by. 

If there is a love for music in any of us it will grow as a seed. Andas the seed needs the dear mother-earth, so the music needs the heart. When it has taken root there and becomes firmer and firmer it willbegin to show itself outwardly as the light of the face. After it isstrong and can bear up against what assails it--not the wind and therain and the dry leaves, but discouragement and hard correction andpainful hot tears--then with that strength it will flourish. 

Now, sometimes, in the days of its strength the music will seek farmore in its life, just as the plant seeks for more and blossoms. Theflower in the music is as great for all as for one. It is joy andhelpfulness. When for the love of music one seeks to do good thenmusic has borne its blossom. 

Thus, by learning the life of a simple plant we learn the true missionof the beautiful art of tone. It must put forth deeply its roots intothe heart that it may be fed. It must strive for strength as it growsagainst whatever may befall it. It must use its food of the heart andits strength for a pure purpose, and there is but one--to give joy. 

This turns our thoughts to two things: First, to the men and women whoby their usefulness and labor increased the meaning of music. This isthe glory of their days. Second, we look to ourselves with feeblehands and perhaps little talent, and the thought comes to us, thatwith all we have we are to seek not our own glorification but the joyof others. 

CHAPTER XIX. 

THE IDEAL. 

 "Le beau est aussi utile que l'utile, plus peutêtre. "--_Victor Hugo. _

Mozart once had a friend named Gottfried von Jacquin, who was a man ofcareful thought, and evidently a good musician, --for we are told thata melody composed by him is frequently said, even to this day, to beby Mozart. This Gottfried lived in Vienna with his father, and totheir house Mozart often went. At this time Mozart had an album inwhich his friends were invited to write. Among the verses is asentiment written by Gottfried von Jacquin, saying:

"True genius is impossible without heart; no amount of intellect aloneor of imagination, no, nor of both together, can make genius. Love isthe soul of genius. "

Here we have the same truth told us which we have already found forourselves, namely, that all good music comes from the heart. We havefound it by studying music and striving faithfully to get deep intoits real meaning. But to-day we have the words of one who was enabledto watch closely as a friend one of the greatest composers that everlived. And being much with him, hearing the music of the master playedby the master himself, put the thought into his head, that it isimpossible to be a true genius without heart and love. 

From this we shall have courage to know that what we pursue in musicis real; that the beauties of great music, though they may just now bebeyond us, are true, and exist to those who are prepared for them. When in our struggle to be more capable in art than we are to-day wethink of the beauty around us, and desire to be worthy of it, we arethen forming an ideal, and ideals are only of value when we strive tolive up to them. 

Once in Rome there lived a Greek slave--some day you may read hisname. He has told us, that "if thou wouldst have aught of good, haveit from thyself. "[61] Of course we see in this, immediately, the truththat has been spoken of in nearly every one of these Talks. It isthis: We must, day by day, become better acquainted with ourselves, study our thoughts, have purity of heart, and work for something. 

Now, working for something may be accomplished in a simple mannerwithout thinking of it. If every task is done in our best way it addssomething to us. It is true and beautiful, too, that the reward forpatient, faithful work comes silently to us, and often we do not knowof its presence. But some day, finding ourselves stronger, we look toknow the cause of it, and we see that the faithfulness of past dayshas aided us. 

So art teaches us a very practical lesson in the beginning. If wewould have her favors we must do her labors. If we say to music: "Ishould love to know you;" music says to us, "Very well, work and yourwish shall be gratified. " But without that labor we cannot have thatwish. The Greek slave knew that and said:

"Thou art unjust, if thou desire to gain those things for nothing. "

Now we begin to see that art has no gifts to bestow upon us fornothing. Many think it has, and pursue it until the truth dawns uponthem; then, because of their error, they dislike it. To recognize thetruth about art and to pursue that truth, despite the hard road, is tohave courage. And the Ideal is nothing else than the constant presenceof this truth. 

And what do we gain by pursuing it? Not common pleasure, but truehappiness; not uncertainty, but true understanding; not selfish life, but true and full life. And we can see the beauty of art in nothingmore plainly than in the fact that all these things may come to achild, and a new and brighter life is made possible by them. 

The very first day we came together, the little child said to themaster:

"Master, I do not understand what thou hast said, yet I believe thee. "

It is hard, sometimes, to feel the truth and to keep it with us; hard, not only for a child, but for any one; and yet, if with faith we willlabor with it _until the light comes_, then we are truly rewarded andmade richer according to our faith. 

We must not forget in the first days, as we leave our music, that thepath we have taken since we came together is the hardest; not foralways, but for now. The right path is hard at first--the wrong one ishard always. 

We will understand it all better in other days if we remain faithfulnow. If, however, we should forget for a moment that art demands ourloyalty, there will be no joy or peace in it for us. Worse, perhaps, than starting out upon the wrong path, is the deserting of the rightone. Sometimes out of impatience we do this; out of impatience andself-love, which is the worst of all. "Truth is the beginning of allgood, and the greatest of all evils is self-love. "[62]

With the trials that music costs us, with its pains anddiscouragements, we might easily doubt all these promises which arecontained in our ideals, but we shall be forever saved from desertingthem if we remember that these ideals have been persistently held bygreat men. They have never given them up. One of the strongestcharacteristics of Bach and of Beethoven was their determination tohonor their thoughts. Sometimes we find the same persistence andfaithfulness in lesser men. 

I am sure you will see this faith beautifully lived in the few factswe have about the life of Johann Christian Kittel, a pupil of Bach, and it is strongly brought out by the pretty story told of him, thatwhen pleased with a pupil's work he would draw aside a curtain whichcovered a portrait of Bach and let the faithful one gaze upon it for amoment. That was to him the greatest reward he could give forfaithfulness in the music task. 

And this reminds us of how the teacher, Pistocchi, who, in teachingthe voice, kept in mind a pure tone, a quiet manner of singing, andthe true artistic way of doing. Among his pupils was a certain AntonioBernacchi, who, after leaving his master, began to display his voiceby runs and trills and meaningless tones. And this he did, not becauseof true art, for that was not it, but because it brought him theapplause of unthinking people. 

Once, when the master, Pistocchi, heard him do this he is said to haveexclaimed: "Ah, I taught thee how to _sing_, and now thou wilt_play_;" meaning that the true song was gone and the pupil no longersang out of the heart, but merely out of the throat. Pistocchi kepthis ideal pure. 

We have then among our ideals two of first importance. The idealperception of music, as being the true heart-expression of great men;and the ideal of our doings, which is the true heart-expression ofourselves. And to keep these ideals is difficult in two ways: Thedifficulty of keeping the pure intention of great men ever before us, and the difficulty of keeping close and faithful to the tasks assignedus. Then we can say with the little child:

"Master, I do not understand what thou hast said, yet I believe thee. "

CHAPTER XX. 

THE ONE TALENT. 

 "Then he which had received the one talent came. "--_Matthew, XXV: 24. _

Some day, when you read about the great composers, you will bedelighted with the pictures of their home-life. You will see how theyemployed music every day. In all cases, as we study them, we learn howvery much they have sacrificed for the music they love, studying itdaily because of the joy which it yields them. We see them as littlechildren, eager to be taught, wanting to listen to music, and to hearabout it. Many of the composers whose child-life is thus interestingwere children in very poor families, where things were neither finenor beautiful, where the necessary things of life were not plentiful, and where all had to be careful and saving so that every bit should bemade to go as far as possible. The eagerness and determination of somechildren in music-history is really wonderful. It is the truedetermination. And you are not surprised, in following it, to notethat it leads the children who have it into lives of great usefulness. 

All through the life of Handel we find determination running like agolden thread. He was just as determined to be a musician as Lincolnwas to get an education when he read books by the firelight. Handel'sfather was a surgeon, and knew so little about music that he failedentirely to understand the child. He not only forbade the boy to studymusic, but even kept him away from school that he might not by anychance learn to read the notes. But one who was in future years tobefriend homeless children and to write wondrous music for all theworld could not be held back by such devices. By some means, and withfriendly assistance (perhaps his mother's), he succeeded in smugglinginto the garret a spinet, which is a kind of piano. By placing clothupon the strings he so deadened the wires that no one downstairs couldhear the tones when the spinet was played. And day after day thislittle lad would sit alone in his garret, learning more and more aboutthe wonders which his heart and his head told him were in the tinyhalf-dumb spinet before him. Not the more cheerful rooms down-stairsnor the games of his playmates drew him away from the music he loved, the music which he felt in his heart, remember. 

One would expect such determination to show itself in many ways. Itdid. Handel does not disappoint us in this. All through his life hehad strong purposes and a strong will--concentration--which led himforward. You know how he followed his father's coach once. Perhaps itwas disobedience, --but what a fine thing happened when he reached theduke's palace and played the organ. From that day every one knew thathis life would be devoted to music. Sometimes at home, sometimes inforeign lands, he was always working, thinking, learning. He is said, in his boyhood, to have copied large quantities of music, and to havecomposed something every week. This copying made him better acquaintedwith other music, and the early habit of composition made it easy forhim to write his thoughts in after years. Indeed, so skilled did hebecome, that he wrote one opera--"Rinaldo"--in fourteen days, and the"Messiah" was written in twenty-four days. [63]

Yet parts of his great works he wrote and rewrote until they wereexactly as they should be. _It will do_ is a thought that never comesinto the head of a great artist. How do you imagine such a man was tohis friends? We are told that, "he was in character at once great andsimple. " And again it has been said that, "his smile was like heaven. "

We have seen Handel as the great composer, but he was not so busy inthis that his thoughts were not also dwelling upon other things. Ifever you go to London, you should of a Sunday morning hear the serviceat the Foundling Hospital. You will see there many hundreds of boysand girls grouped about the organ. Their singing will seem beautifulto you, from its sweetness and from the simple faith in which it isdone. After the service you may go to the many rooms of this home forso many otherwise homeless ones. 

There are for you to visit: the playroom, the schoolroom, the longhalls with the pretty white cots, and the pleasant dining-room. Hereit will please you to see the little ones march into dinner, withtheir similar dresses, and all looking as happy as possible. But thepicture you will, no doubt, longest keep, is that of the childrenabout the organ. 

They will tell you there that it was Handel who gave this organ to thechapel, and who, for the benefit of the children who might come here, gave concerts, playing and conducting, which were so successful thatthey had to be repeated. A "fair copy" of the "Messiah" will be shownyou as one of the precious possessions. 

It will very plainly be present in your mind how the little boy satalone playing day after day in the garret, wishing no better pastimethan to express the feelings of his heart in tones. Perhaps you willthink of his words: "Learn (of) all there is to learn, then chooseyour own path. " He will appeal to you as having possessed an "earlycompleteness of character, " which abided always with him. It isevident in following the life of Handel, and it would be equally plainwith any other composer, that great talent is developed out of a smallbeginning, and if small, is yet earnest and determined. From the firstdays of a great man's life to the last we find constant effort. "Iconsider those live best who study best to become as good aspossible. "[64] Music helps us to keep the upper windows open; that iswhy it does so much for us even if we have but one talent. 

To develop our one talent is a duty, just as it is a duty to developtwo or five talents. It is given to us to increase. And no one knowshow much joy may come to us and to others from the growing of thattalent. We gain much in power to give pleasure to others, if thetalent we have be made stronger by faithful effort. As we have seengood come forth from the story of the man with many talents, we cansee how, similarly, he with one talent has also great power with whichhe may add unto himself and others. 

In all of our Talks it has been evident from what we have said, thatmusic is a beautiful art to us, even though we may have but little ofit. But equally we have learned, that for ever so little we must proveourselves worthy. We must honestly give something for all we get. Thisis the law, and the purpose of all our Talks is to learn it. 

We have, likewise, learned that true music, _out of the heart_, maynot at the first please us, but within it there is a great deal and wemust seek it. The history of all who have faithfully studied the worksof the great masters is, that for all the thought and time one spendsin studying master works a great gain comes. On the other hand, everybody's experience with common music is, that while it may pleasemuch at first and even captivate us, yet it soon tires us so that wecan scarcely listen patiently to it. 

Still a further lesson is, that working with many talents or with oneis the same. Talents, one or many, are for increase and faithfuldevelopment. Handel's life was a determined struggle to make the mostof his power. It should be ours. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

LOVE FOR THE BEAUTIFUL. 

 "Every color, every variety of form, has some purpose and explanation. "--_Sir John Lubbock_. [65]

Now, when we are almost at the end of the way we have traveledtogether, it will be natural to look back upon the road over which wehave come. Not all of it will be visible, to be sure. We haveforgotten this pleasant scene and that; others, however, remain freshin our minds. And as the days pass and we think over our way therewill now and again come to us a scene, a remembrance, so full ofbeauty and of pleasure that we shall feel rich in the possession ofit. 

To me there is nothing we have learned together greater in value, richer in truth and comfort than the thought that the beautiful inmusic and in art is at the same time the good. Even if a person is notat all times good, there is raised in him the feeling of it wheneverhe consciously looks upon a beautiful object. We see in this how wiseit is for one to choose to have beautiful things, to surround otherswith them, to love them, and to place reverent hands upon them. 

We can never make a mistake about gentle hands. Once a lady said to aboy:

"You should touch all things with the same delicacy that one shouldbestow upon a tender flower. It shows that deep within yourself youare at rest, that you make your hands go forward to a task carefullyand with much thought. In the roughest games you play do not forgetthis; then your hands shall be filled with all the thought you havewithin yourself. "

Sometimes, when I am in a great gallery, the thought is very strong inme, that many (ever, and ever so many) people, in all countries and inall times, have so loved the beautiful as to devote their lives to it. Painters, who have made pictures to delight men for generations, looked and looked and _prayed_ to find the beautiful. And we mustbelieve that one looks out of the heart to find the beautiful or hefinds only the common. And the sculptors who have loved marble for thedelight they have in beautiful forms, they, too, with eyes seekingbeauty, and hands so gentle upon the marble that it almost breathesfor them, they, too, have loved the beautiful. 

But commoner ones have the tenderest love for what is sweet and fairin life, --people who are neither painters nor sculptors. In theirlittle way--but it is a _true_ way--they have sunlight in theirhearts, and with it love for something. 

Perhaps it is a flower. I have been told of a man--in fact I have seenhim--who could do the cruelest things; who was so bad that he couldnot be permitted to go free among others, and yet he loved plants somuch that if they were put near him he would move quietly among them, touching this one and that; gazing at them, and acting as if he werein another world. As we said once before about the spring, so we maysay here about love for the beautiful: it may be covered up with everything that is able to keep it down, but _it is always there_. 

It is always pleasanter to hear about people and their ways than toheed advice. But people and their ways often set us good examples; andwe were curious, indeed, if we did not look sharply at ourselves tosee just what we are. From all we have been told about the beautifulwe can at least learn this: that it sweetens life; that it makes evena common life bright; that if we have it in us it may be as goldensunlight to some poor one who is in the darkness of ignorance, that isthe advantage and the beauty of all good things in our lives, namely, the good it may be unto others. And the beautiful music we may sing orplay is not to show what we are or what we can do--it will, of coursedo these things--but it is to be a blessing to those who listen. Andhow are blessings bestowed? _Out of the heart. _

Once there was a nobleman[66] with power and riches. He lovedeverything. Learning and art and all had he partaken of. But the timeswere troubled in his country, and for some reason he lost all he hadand was imprisoned. Then there was scarcely anything in his life. Allhe had was the cell, the prison-yard, and, now and again, a word ortwo with his keeper. The cell was small and gloomy, the keeper silent, the yard confined and so closely paved with cobblestones that onecould scarcely see the earth between them. 

Yes, indeed, it was a small world and a barren one into which they hadforced him. But he had his thoughts, and daily as he walked in hisconfined yard, they were busy with the past, weaving, weaving. Whatpatterns they made, and he, poor one, was sometimes afraid of them!But still they kept on weaving, weaving. 

One day, as he walked in his yard, he noticed that between two of thestones there seemed to be something and he looked at it. With thegreatest attention he studied it, then he knelt on the rude stones andlooked and looked again. His heart beat and his hands trembled, butyet with a touch as gentle as any one could give, he moved a grain ortwo of soil and there, beneath, was something which the poor captivecried out for joy to see--a tiny plant. As if in a new world, andcertainly as if another man, he cared daily for the tender littlecompanion that had come to share his loneliness; he thought of itfirst in the morning and last at night. He gave it of his supply ofwater and, as a father, he watched over it. 

And it grew so that one day he saw that his plant must either die orhave more room. And it could not have more room unless a cobblestonewere removed. Now this could only be done with the consent of theEmperor. Well, let us not stop to hear about the way he found, but hedid get his request to the Emperor and, after a while, what happeneddo you think? That the plant was given more room? Yes, that is partlyit, and the rest is this: the prisoner himself was given more room--hewas liberated. 

Just because the seed of a beautiful thing came to life in his tinyworld he found love for it and a new life, a care, _something outsideof himself_. And it brought him all. 

That love which is not given to self reveals the beauty of the world. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

IN SCHOOL. 

 "Every successive generation becomes a living memorial of our public schools, and a living example of their excellence. "--_Joseph Story. _

In these days we learn many things in our schools--even music. Theysurely must have a purpose, all the studies and the music as well. Letus in this Talk see if we can find what the purpose is. 

It costs our Government a great deal to educate the children of theland. There are now nearly twenty million children in our country. That is a number you cannot conceive. But every morning of the year, when it is not a vacation day, you may think of this vast numberleaving home and going to school to be taught. I am sure the picturewill make us all think how wise a Government is that devotes so muchto making us know more, because by learning more we are able to enjoymore, to do more, to be more. And this makes us better citizens. 

Year after year, as men study and learn about what is best to havechildren taught in school, the clearer it becomes that what is givenis dictated because of its usefulness. Arithmetic teaches us tocalculate our daily affairs. Grammar teaches us to listen and to speakunderstandingly. Penmanship and Spelling teach us properly to make thesigns which represent speech. Geography teaches us of the earth onwhich we live, and how we may travel about it. History teaches us howto understand the doings of our own day and makes us acquainted withgreat men of former times, who by striving have earned a place in ourremembrance. 

As we go on in our school education, taking up new studies, we find toa still greater degree that what we learn is for usefulness. Arithmetic becomes mathematics in general. Grammar is brought beforeus in other languages, and branches out into the study of Rhetoric andLiterature. History is taught us of many lands, particularly ofGreece, Rome, and England. And, bit by bit, these various historiesmerge into one, until, perhaps not until college years or later, thedoings of the countries in all the centuries of which we haveknowledge is one unbroken story to us. We know the names of lands andof people. Why Greece could love art, why Rome could have conquest;why these countries and all their glories passed away to give place toothers; all these things become clear to us. We learn of generals, statesmen, poets, musicians, rulers. Their characters are made clear;their lives are given to us in biography, and year after year thestory of the earth and man is more complete, more fascinating, morehelpful to us in learning our own day. 

Then, besides all these studies, we are taught to do things with thehands. After the Talks we have already had about doing, we know whatit means to have training of the hands. It really means the trainingof the thoughts. We are training the mind to make the hands performtheir tasks rightly. It is the same in the science lesson whichteaches us to see; actually to use our eyes until we see things. Thatmay not seem to be a difficult task, but there are really very fewpeople who can accurately and properly use their eyes. If there weremore, fewer mistakes would be made. 

Thus we can see that school work divides its tasks into two generalclasses:

First, the learning of facts. 

Second, the actual doing of things. 

You will readily see that to do things properly is possible only whenwe know facts which tell us how to do them. That shows you at once thewisdom of the education you receive. 

Now, let us imagine that school life is over. For many years you havegone faithfully every day to your place, you have done your tasks ashonestly as you could, and said your lessons, being wounded no doubtby failures, but gladdened again by successes. Now, when it is allover, what is there of it?

Well, above all things, there is one truth of it which it is wonderfulpeople do not think of more frequently. And that truth is this: Theonly education we may use in our own life is that which we haveourselves. No longer have we help of companions or teachers. We dependentirely upon our own personal knowledge. If we speak it is our ownknowledge of Grammar that is used. We cannot have a book at hand inorder to know from it the words we should use. If we make acalculation about money, or do anything with numbers, it must be donefrom our knowledge of Arithmetic, and it must be right or people willvery soon cease to deal with us. Then, if we have a letter from afriend, we must of ourselves know how to read it, and if we have aughtto say to another at a distance, we must be able clearly to expressourselves in writing, so that we may make no mistake in our meaning. 

And this, likewise, is to be said of all the rest. Our knowledge ofHistory, of Geography, of men of past times, of the boundaries ofcountries, of cities, of people, of everything, must come fromourselves. And, further yet, according as we have been careful to seein the right way and to do in the right way while we were underinstruction in school, so we shall be likely to see and to do when weare not in school, and no longer have some one over us who will kindlyand patiently correct our errors, teach us new ways, and give usgreater powers. We may, of course, go on learning after our schooldays are ended; and really much of the best education comes then, ifwe will immediately set about correcting the faults which we find inourselves. 

Indeed, many men have gained the best part of their education afterleaving school, where, perhaps, it was their fortune to stay but ashort time. [67] But we must remember that the habits of learning, doing, seeking, are gained in early years, and if they are not gainedthen they rarely come. 

Now, what have we learned about schools and school-tasks? We havelearned a little of the purpose which lies in the education wereceive; that out of it must come the power to do and to know; that isour own power; not that of any one else. We have seen the usefulnessof school-studies, and how practical they are in our daily life. 

In all this Talk we have said nothing about Music. If, however, weunderstand what the other studies mean, what their purpose is, weshall learn something which shall be valuable when we come to studythe meaning and purpose of music in schools. That shall be our nextTalk. 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

MUSIC IN SCHOOL. 

 "Become in early years well-informed concerning the extent of the four voices. 

"Try, even with a poor voice, to sing at sight without the aid of aninstrument; from that your ear will constantly improve. In case, however, that you have a good voice, do not hesitate a moment tocultivate it; and believe, at the same time, that heaven has grantedyou a valuable gift. "--_Robert Schumann. _[68]

In the previous Talk we learned two very important facts about schoolstudies. They were these:

 I. They are useful. 

 II. They are useful in proportion to our own (not to anybody else's) real knowledge of them. 

We do not study useless subjects, and it is not from our books, norfrom our teacher that we go through life, making our way. In otherwords, the harder we work, the more independent we become; and themore independent we become, the more power we have to help others. 

Now, whatever is true about other school studies is likewise trueabout music. It is given to children in school because it is useful, and because a child can gain power by learning it. Let us see aboutthis. 

To one who does not think deeply, it might seem that if any study inschool is merely ornamental, that study is music. He might say thatall the other studies tend to some practical end in life and business:that one could not add, nor read, nor transact business, nor write aletter any more correctly by knowing music. It is only an unthinkingperson--_none other_--who would say that. 

Of the usefulness of all the school studies we have spoken. We needonly to take a few steps along the pleasant road, about which we havehad so many Talks, and we shall see how much music means in life. Tous it is already plain. Music is a new world, to enter whichcultivates new senses, teaches us to love the beautiful, and makes uswatchful of two of the most important things in life: the thoughts andthe heart. We must have exact thoughts or the music is not madearight, and the heart may be what it will, music tells all about it. Therefore, let it be good. 

But music in school brings us to daily tasks in tone. What do welearn? After the difficulties of reading the notes and making thevoice responsive are somewhat overcome, we study for greater power inboth, the one-, two-, or three-part exercises and songs; the exercisesfor skill and the songs to apply the skill, and make us acquaintedwith the music of great masters. 

In one Talk, one of the first, we spoke of the major scale. It haseight tones only, and though it has existed for many hundreds ofyears, no one has yet dreamed of all the wonderful tone-pictures whichare contained in it. It is out of it that all the great composers havewritten their works, and for centuries to come men will find in itbeauties great, and pure, and lasting. 

As we sing in school, we are learning to put the major scale to someuse. It calls upon us in the melodies which it expresses, to becareful that each tone shall be right in length, in pitch, inloudness, in place. We must sing exactly with the others, notoffensively loud, nor so softly as to be of no service. And thisdemands precision of us; and precision demands thought. And if we aresinging to gain a better use of voice we must, in every sound we make, have our thoughts exactly upon what we are doing. This isConcentration. If, on the other hand, we are trying our skill on asong, we shall have, in addition, to be careful to give the rightexpression, to sing not only the tones clearly, but the words, to feelthe true sentiment both of the poem and of the music, and to expressfrom our hearts as much of the meaning of poet and composer as weunderstand. All these things are more particularly required of us ifwe are singing in parts. The melody must be properly sustained andmust not cover the under parts; while the under parts themselvesshould never intrude upon the melody, nor fail to be a good backgroundfor it. The singing of part music is one of the best ways to train theattention--that is, to get Concentration. As we sing our part we musthave in mind these things:

 I. To keep to it and not be drawn away by another part. 

 II. To give the part we sing its due prominence. 

 III. Never to destroy the perfect equality of the parts by unduly hastening or holding back. 

 IV. To remember that each part is important. The other singers have as much to think of and to do as we have, and they are entitled to just as much praise. 

 V. To be alert to take up our part at exactly the right place. 

 VI. To put the full meaning of the poet and of the composer into every word and tone. 

These, after all, are only a few of the things; but from them we maylearn this, that to sing (and to play is quite the same) is one of themost delicate tasks we can learn to perform, requiring attention fromus in many ways at the same time. Even now the usefulness of music isclear, for the faculties we learn to employ in music form a power thatcan be applied in anything. 

But music has even a greater reward for us than this. It presents tous many kinds of thoughts and pictures, --of bravery, ofthoughtfulness, of gaiety, and others without number--and then itdemands that we shall study so as to sing them truthfully from ourhearts. And when we can do this music is then a joy to us and toothers. 

Now we see that music, just like the other studies, is useful andgives us the power to do something. And besides its use and power itis, perhaps more than any other study, the greatest means of givinghappiness to others. But of that there is yet a word to be said. Thatshall be our next Talk. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

HOW ONE THING HELPS ANOTHER. 

 "Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life. "--_Berthold Auerbach. _

Just at the end of our Talk about Music in School, I said that musicwas the most powerful of all the studies for giving joy to others. Inthis Talk we shall try to learn what the studies do for each other. 

Once more--and we must never get tired if the same thought comes againand again--let us remember that music is thought expressed in tone. Classic music is great and strong thought; poor, unworthy music isweak, perhaps wrong or mean thought. 

Further, we have learned that thought may be good and pure, and yetthat of itself is not sufficient. It must be well expressed. In short, to thought of the right sort we must add knowledge, so that it may beset before others in the right way. 

Now, it is true that the more knowledge we have, the more we can dowith music. We can put more meaning into it; we can better perform allthe exacting duties it demands; we can draw more meaning from its art, and we can see more clearly how great a genius the composer is. Besides these things, a well-trained mind gets more thoughts from asubject than an untrained mind. Some day you will see this moreclearly by observing how much better you will be able to understandyour own language by possessing a knowledge of Greek and Latin. 

All the school studies have a use, to be sure--a direct use--in givingus something to help us in life in one way and another. But besidesthis, we get another help from study; namely, the employment of themind in the right way. For the right way of doing things which areworthy of the heart, gives power and good. It is the wrong way ofdoing things that causes us trouble. Some studies demand exactnessabove all this, --like the study of Arithmetic--others a goodmemory, --like History--others tax many faculties, as we have seen inour Talk about School Music. 

Some of the studies are particularly valuable to us at once becausethey make us _do_. They may be called _doing_ studies. In Arithmeticthere is a result, and only one result, to be sought. In Grammar everyrule we learn is to be applied in our speech. Manual training demandsjudgment and the careful use of the hands. Penmanship is a test forthe hand, but History is a study touching the memory more than thedoing faculty. 

School music, you see at once, is a doing study. Not only that, it isfull of life, attractive, appealing to the thoughts in many ways, andyet it is a hearty study--by that I mean a study for the heart. 

If you have noticed in your piano music the Italian words which aregiven at the beginning of compositions, you may have thought howexpressive most of them are of the heart and of action. They are_doing_ words particularly. _Allegro_ is cheerful; that is its truemeaning. It directs us to make the music sound cheerful as we sing itor play it. What for? So that the cheerfulness of the composer shallbe for us and for other people. And _Vivace_ is not merely quickly, but vivaciously. Now what does vivacious mean? It means what itsroot-word _vivere_ means, to live. It is a direction that the musicmust be full of life; and the true life of happiness and freedom fromcare is meant. So with _Modcrato_, a doing word which tells us veryparticularly how to do; namely, not too fast, spoiling it by haste, nor too slowly, so that it seems to drag, but in a particular way, that is, with moderation. 

Music takes its place as a _doing_ study; and as we have alreadydiscovered, its doing is of many kinds, all requiring care. Singing orplaying is doing; reading the notes is doing; studying out thecomposer's meaning is doing; making others feel it is doing;everything is doing; and _doing_ is true living, _provided it isunselfish_. 

Let us see if there is not a simple lesson in all this. To seek it weshall have to say old thoughts over again. Music itself uses the sametones over and over again; it is by doing so that we begin tounderstand tone a little. 

The school studies try the mind; with the tasks increased bit by bit, the mind is made stronger. Thus is Strength gained. By the tasksdemanding exactness, the thoughts must not be scattered everywhere, but centered upon the thing to be done. Thus is Concentration gained. By making the hand work with care and a definite purpose, Skill isgained. By demanding of the thoughts that they must seek out all thequalities of an object, Attention is gained. By placing things andsigns for things before us, we are taught to See. By educating us insounds, we are taught to Listen. When we have a task that admits of asingle correct result, we are taught Exactness. 

Now, from all we have learned in these Talks about music it must beclear that all these qualities are just what are needed in music:

 I. Strength of thought for Real doing. 

 II. Concentration for Right doing. 

 III. Skill for Well doing. 

 IV. Seeing and listening for the cultivation of Attention. 

 V. Correctness for the Manner of doing. 

We sought for a simple lesson. It is this:

Let us learn all we can that is right and worthy for the strengtheningof the mind, for the cultivation of the heart, for the good and joy ofothers; for these things are the spirit of music. 

CHAPTER XXV. 

THE CHILD AT PLAY. 

 "When the long day is past, the steps turn homeward. "

Once a child played on the sea-shore. The waves sang and the sandshone and the pebbles glistened. There was light everywhere; lightfrom the blue sky, and from the moving water, and from the gleamingpebbles. 

The little one, in its happiness, sang with the murmuring sea andplayed with the stones and the shells that lay about. Joy waseverywhere and the child was filled with it. 

But the day passed. And the little one grieved in its heart to leavethe beautiful place. Delight was there and many rare things that onecould play with and enjoy. 

The child could not leave them all. Its heart ached to think of themlying there alone by the sea. And it thought:

"I will take the pebbles and the shells with me and I will try toremember the sunlight and the song of the sea. "

So it began to fill its little hands. But it saw that after as many aspossible were gathered together there were yet myriads left. And ithad to leave them. 

Tired and with a sore heart it trudged homeward, its hands filled tooverflowing with the pebbles that shone in the sun on the sea-shore. Now, however, they seemed dull. And because of this, the child did notseem to regret it so much if now and then one fell. "There are stillsome left in my hands, " it thought. 

At length it came near to its home; so very tired, the little limbscould scarcely move. And one who loved the child came out smiling towelcome it. The little one went up close and rested its tired head;and opening its little hand, soiled with the sea and the sand, said:

"Look, mother, I still have one. May I go for the others some day?"

And the mother said:

"Yes, thou shalt go again. "

And the child fell asleep to dream of the singing sea and of thesunlight, for these were in its heart. 

APPENDIX

The following works are referred to in these Talks:

 Addison, Joseph, "Spectator. "

 Alexander, Francesca, "Christfolk in the Apennine. "

 Antoninus, M. Aurelius, "Meditations. "

 Aristotle, "Ethics. "

 Bach, J. S. , "The Well-tempered Clavicord. "

 Bach, J. S. , "Kleine Präludien. "

 Baldwin, James, "Old Greek Stories. "

 Bacon, Francis, "Essays. "

 Bridge, J. F. , "Simple Counterpoint. "

 Carlyle, Thomas, "Heroes and Hero-worship. "

 Cellini, Benvenuto, "Autobiography. "

 Epictetus, "Memoirs. "

 Grove, Sir George, "Dictionary of Music and Musicians. "

 Halleck, R. P. , "Psychology and Psychic Culture. "

 Handel, G. F. , "The Messiah. "

 Haupt, August, "Choralbuch. "

 Liszt, Franz, "Life of Chopin. "

 Lubbock, Sir John, "Pleasures of Life. "

 Luther, Martin, "Table Talk. "

 Mendelssohn, Felix, "Letters from Italy and Switzerland. "

 Parker, J. H. , "ABC of Gothic Architecture. "

 Ruskin, John, "Queen of the Air. "

 Ruskin, John, "Sesame and Lilies. "

 Ruskin, John, "Val d'Arno. "

 Saintine, X. B. , "Picciola. "

 Schubert, Franz, "Songs. "

 Schumann, Robert, "Album for the Voung. "

 Schumann, Robert, "Letters. "

 Schumann, Robert, "Rules for Young Musicians. "

 Tapper, Thomas, "Chats with Music Students. "

 Tyndall, John, "Glaciers of the Alps. "

 Tyndall, John, "On Sound. "

 Various Authors, "Les Maitres du Clavicin. "

 Xenophon, "Memorabilia. "

 * * * * *

Chats with Music Students

OR

TALKS ABOUT MUSIC AND MUSIC LIFE. 

BY

THOMAS TAPPER. 

Price, Bound in Cloth, $1. 50. 

This volume appeals to every student of music, however elementary oradvanced. It is designed to bring to the attention of those who makemusic a life-work, the very many contingent topics that should beconsidered in connection with music. To this end the subjects selectedfor the chats have a practical value, cover considerable ground, andare treated from the point of view that best aids the student. Thereader is taken into confidence, and finds in the chapters of thiswork many hints and benefits that pertain to his own daily life as amusician. 

 * * * * *

21 SELECTED

CRAMER STUDIES. 

From the Von Bülow Edition. 

PRICE $1. 50, FIRMLY BOUND. 

The present complete edition sells for $2. 50 and $3. 00, retail. Muchof the material in the complete edition can be eliminated withoutinjury to its technical value. We have, therefore, made a selection ofthe choicest of Von Bülow's edition, which we have bound, in onevolume, in very neat style. Only the most difficult and unimportantones have been eliminated. 

 * * * * *

The Normal Course of Piano Technic. 

DESIGNED FOR

SCHOOLS, TEACHERS, AND STUDENTS. 

By WM. B. WAIT. 

Price $1. 50, Bound. 

The NORMAL COURSE is based upon the fundamental idea that, for thepurpose of the development, discipline, and formation of the mind, andfor teaching the learner how to think and to do, Technical Studies inMusic are as useful as any other branch. 

FEATURES OF THE BOOK:

 Clear, concise statements of facts and principles. 

 It deals only with essentials. 

 It arranges the materials in grades, by Divisions, Courses, and Steps. 

 It exhibits a distinct mode and order of development. 

 The course is as clearly laid out as in any other branch of study. 

 Practice based upon understanding of means as applied to ends. 

 It permits the attention to be given to the hands in practice, and not to the pages. 

 In schools it will secure uniformity in the instruction given. 

 It furnishes the bases for oral recitations and examinations as in other subjects. 

 It is logical, systematic, thorough. 

 It is a book for use by schools, teachers, and students. 

NOTES:

 1: From the "Table Talk. "

 2: Play to the children Schubert's song entitled "The Organ-man. "

 3: Phillips Brooks says in one of his sermons ("Identity and Variety"): "Every act has its perfect and entire way of being done. "

 4: Bohn edition, p. 35. 

 5: Read to the children such parts of Francesca Alexander's "Christ's folk in the Apennine" as seem to you pertinent. 

 6: John Ruskin, from the ninth lecture of "Val d'Arno. "

 7: John Ruskin. Third lecture of "Val d'Arno. "

 8: Franz Liszt's "Life of Chopin, " Chapter V. 

 9: _Ibid_, Chapter VI. 

10: "On Sound. "

11: "On Sound" is referred to. The last paragraph of Section 10, Chapter II, may interest the children. The last two paragraphs of Section 13 are not only interesting, but they show how simply a scientist can write. 

12: If the original is desired, see Tyndall's "Glaciers of the Alps. "

13: Schumann wrote in a letter to Ferdinand Hiller, "We should learn to refine the inner ear. "

14: From the sermon entitled "The Seriousness of Life. "

15: Notice sometime how many of our English words have the Latin _con_. 

16: See the fourth chapter of Reuben Post Halleck's "Psychology and Psychic Culture. "

17: For instance, the subject of the C minor Fugue in the first book of "The Well-tempered Clavicord. "

18: The subject of the C sharp minor Fugue. 

19: The prelude in E flat minor and the subject of the G sharp minor Fugue. 

20: Robert Schumann. 

21: Quoted by Xenophon in the "Memorabilia, " Book II, Chapter I, Bohn edition. 

22: "Heroes and Hero Worship, " Lecture I. 

23: From the sermon entitled "Backgrounds and Foregrounds. "

24: I should again suggest the value of letting the children become familiar with such books as J. H. Parker's "A B C of Gothic Architecture;" and of having always about plenty of photographs of great buildings, great men, great works of art and of famous places for them to see and to know ("_letting_ them _become_ familiar, " remember). 

25: See R. P. Halleck's "Psychology and Psychic Culture. "

26: Read paragraphs 41 and 42 of John Ruskin's "Athena Chalinitis, " the first lecture of "Queen of the Air. "

27: John Ruskin, from the lecture entitled "Franchise, " in "Val d'Arno, " par. 206. 

28: "Letters of Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy from Italy and Switzerland. " Letter of July 15, 1831. 

29: "Letter of December 19, 1831. "

30: Read also what is said of Chopin on p. 28. 

31: Read to the children "The Wonderful Weaver" in "Old Greek Stories, " by James Baldwin. It is only a few pages in length, and is well told. 

32: Robert Schumann. 

33: John Ruskin's "Queen of the Air, " par. 102. ("Athena Ergane. ") Read all of it to the children. 

34: _Idem_. 

35: Lord Bacon, from the essay "Of Great Places. "

36: Robert Schumann. 

37: Read John Ruskin's "Sesame and the Lilies, " par. 19, and as much of what follows as you deem wise. 

38: "The Ethics, " Book IX, Chapter VII. 

39: Always I have it in mind that the teacher will read or make reference to the original when the source is so obvious as in this case. The teacher's, or mother's, discretion should, however, decide what and how much of such original should be read, and what it is best to say of it. 

40: I have not attempted to quote the exact words usually given. 

41: Socrates. This quotation is from the "Memorabilia of Xenophon, " Book I, Chapter VI. 

42: Mary Russell Mitford. 

43: "Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini, " Bohn edition, p. 23. 

44: "The Miserere" of "Gregorio Allegri. " It was written for nine voices in two choirs. "There was a time when it was so much treasured that to copy it was a crime visited with excommunication. Mozart took down the notes while the choir was singing it. " (See Grove's "Dictionary of Music and Musicians. " Vol. I, page 54. )

45: Dr. Bridge "On Simple Counterpoint. " Preface. 

46: Take, in August Haupt's "_Choralbuch zum häuslichen Gebrauch_, " any simple choral. The one entitled "_Zion klagt mit Angst und Schmerzen_" is of singular beauty and simplicity. 

47: Peters Edition, No. 200, page 11. 

48: I should advise the teacher to have the two volumes entitled "_Les Maitres du Clavicin_. " (They can be had in the Litolff collection. )

49: Op. 106. 

50: "_Der Erster Verlust_" in Schumann's Op. 68 is well conceived in the sense that it is freely harmonic in some places, imitative in others, while in the opening the melody is very simply accompanied. Show the children how interesting the left-hand part is in this little composition. 

51: From a Letter of the Spectator. 

52: From the eighth paragraph of the Lecture entitled "Nicholas, the Pisan, " in "Val D'Arno. "

53: A blind beggar sitting on a bridge in an English town (it was Chester) many times astonished me with the rapidity of his hand-reading, and by the wonderful light of his face. It was wholly free from the perplexity which most of us show. It must arise in us from being attracted by so many things. 

54: Eighty-first paragraph of "Val d'Arno. "

55: Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, "The Meditations, " Book V, Par. 34. 

56: See footnote, p. 119. 

57: From the thirteenth paragraph of the fourth book. I have changed the wording a very little to make it simple. 

58: Sixteenth paragraph of the fifth book. 

59: _Essi quam videri. _

60: "The Memorabilia. "

61: "Epictetus, " H. W. Rollison's Translation. 

62: Plato. 

63: Mozart wrote three symphonies between June 26th and August 10th, in the year 1778; and an Italian, Giovanni Animuccia, is said to have written three masses, four motettes, and fourteen hymns within five months. As an instance of early composition, Johann Friedrich Bernold had written a symphony before he was ten years of age, and was famous all over Europe. 

64: Xenophon, "The Memorabilia, " Book IV, Chapter VIII. 

65: From the "Pleasures of Life. " Eighth Chapter of the Second Series. 

66: The little romance of N. B. Saintine is referred to. 

67: Read to the children Chapter XIV in my "Chats with Music Students. "

68: "Rules for Young Musicians. "