Piano and Song | Page 8

know any thing. Stock and I thought--
DOMINIE. Do you not think that the taste for a beautiful interpretation may be early awakened, without using severity with the pupil? and that to excite the feeling for music, to a certain degree, even in early years, is in fact essential? The neglect of this very thing is the reason that we are obliged to listen to so many players, who really have mechanically practised themselves to death, and have reduced musical art to mere machinery,--to an idle trick of the fingers.
MR. BUFFALO. That's all nonsense. I say teach them the scales, to run up and down the gamut! Gradus ad Parnassum's the thing! Classical, classical! Yesterday you made your daughter play that Trill-Etude by Carl Meyer. Altogether too fine-sounding! It tickles the ear, to be sure, especially when it is played in such a studied manner. We stick to Clementi and Cramer, and to Hummel's piano-school,--the good old school. You have made a great mistake with your eldest daughter.
DOMINIE. The world does not seem to agree with you.
MADAME, of the Tz. family (_has listened and lost a trick by it, steps up quickly, and says maliciously_). You must agree that she would have played better, if you had left her for ten years with Cramer and Clementi. We don't like this tendency to Schumann and Chopin. But what folly to talk! One must be careful what one says to the father of such a child! It is quite a different thing with us. Mr. Buffalo is bound to our Stock by no bond of affection. He follows out his aim without any hesitation or vanity, and looks neither to the right nor to the left, but straightforward.
DOMINIE. I beg your pardon, madam: you may be right,--from your point of view. We must be a little indulgent with sensitive people. But will not your son play to us?
(_Stock plays two Etudes of Clementi, three of Cramer, and four from the Gradus, but did not even grow warm over them. The horse his father gave him has made him quite strong._)
* * * * *
I may be asked, "But how did Stock play?" How? I do not wish to write a treatise: my plan is only to give hints and suggestions. I am not writing in the interest of Stock, Buffalo, & Co.
After the playing, we went to supper: the oysters were good, but the wine left a little sharp taste. My timid daughter did not like oysters; but she ate a little salad, and at table listened instead of talking.
A few innocent anecdotes were related at table about horses and balls and dogs and Stock's future. On taking leave, Madame said condescendingly to Cecilia, "If you keep on, my dear, one of these days you will play very nicely."

CHAPTER III.
MANY STUDENTS OF THE PIANO AND FEW PLAYERS.
_(A Letter addressed to the Father of a Piano Pupil)._
It is a pity that you have no sons, for a father takes great delight in his sons; but I agree with you, when you say that, if you had one, you would rather he should break stones than pound the piano. You say you have many friends who rejoice in that paternal felicity, and whose sons, great and small, bright and dull, have been learning the piano for three years or more, and still can do nothing. You are doubtless right; and, further, they never will learn any thing. You ask, Of what use is it to man or boy to be able to stammer through this or that waltz, or polonaise or mazurka, with stiff arms, weak fingers, a stupid face, and lounging figure? What gain is it to art? You say, Is not time worth gold, and yet we are offered lead? And the poor teachers torment themselves and the boys, abuse art and the piano; and at the end of the evening, in despair, torment their own wives, after they have all day long been scolding, cuffing, and lamenting, without success or consolation. You speak the truth. I have had the same experience myself, though not to the same degree, and though I did not bring home to my wife a dreary face, but only a good appetite. But I did not give myself up to lamentation over piano-teaching. I gathered up courage and rose above mere drudgery. I reflected and considered and studied, and tried whether I could not manage better, as I found I could not succeed with the boys; and I have managed better and succeeded better, because I have hit upon a different way, and one more in accordance with nature than that used in the piano schools. I laid down, as the first and most important principle, the necessity for "the formation of a fine touch," just as singing-teachers