Chapter V (3)

Since the playing of all the Sonatas does not necessarily prove that they were all well played, I think it is better to play one Sonata well than to play many of them badly. Nor should Beethoven's Sonatas be regarded as a musical drilling-ground, but rather as musical revelations. As they are not all on precisely the same high plane of thought, it is not necessary to play them all. To familiarize yourself with Beethoven's style and grandeur of thought it is sufficient to have mastered six or eight of his Sonatas; though that number, at least, should be _mastered_.

MENDELSSOHN

[Sidenote: _The Study of Mendelssohn_]

In a complete course for a piano student should the study of Mendelssohn be included? Which of his compositions are the most useful?

Mendelssohn is surely a composer who is not to be omitted. His melody alone, besides other virtues, entitles him to be included, for melody seems to grow scarce nowadays. To develop a fine cantilena his "Songs Without Words" of slower motion, for instance, are just the thing.

CHOPIN

[Sidenote: _What Is the Best of Chopin?_]

Which are the best compositions of Chopin to study by one who really desires to know him?

All the Etudes, all the Preludes, the Ballades in A flat, G minor and F minor, the Berceuse and the Barcarolle. The Mazurkas, Nocturnes, Waltzes, and Polonaises you are probably familiar with; hence, I mention the aforesaid other works. Generally speaking, of Chopin a pianist should know everything.

[Sidenote: _The Charm of Chopin's Touch_]

What kind of touch did Chopin have?

Since a description of his touch would require too much space I refer you to the book from which I gathered the most explicit information on this point. It is "The Life of Chopin," by Frederick Niecks (London and New York, Novello, Ewer & Co.), and in the second volume, from page 94 to about 104, you will find what you wish to know, as far as it is possible to convey the charm of one art through the medium of another. Since you seem interested in Chopin I would recommend that you closely study both volumes of this masterly biographical work.

[Sidenote: _Mood and Tempo in the A-Flat Impromptu_]

What is the tempo (by metronome) of Chopin's Impromptu in A-flat, and what idea did the composer embody in it?

The editions vary in their metronome markings and I believe none of them. Your tempo will largely depend upon the state of your technique. To the second question my reply is that Chopin has composed "music" which--as you know--represents thoughts only in a musical sense, otherwise it deals with purely psychic processes, moods, etc. The humour of this Impromptu is mainly an amiable, ingratiating one, here and there slightly tinged with a sweet melancholy. It should not be played too fast, for it easily loses this latter attribute and then sounds like a Czerny exercise. A moderate tempo will also tend to bring out the many charming harmonic turns which, in too quick a tempo, are likely to be lost.

[Sidenote: _Chopin's Barcarolle_]

In Chopin's Barcarolle there is a number of trills preceded by grace notes. Are they to be executed according to Philipp Emmanuel Bach's rule, so that the grace notes take their time from the note that follows them?

Philipp Emmanuel Bach's rule is a safe one to follow, but do not confound a rule with a law. If you have reached that plane on which an attempt at the Barcarolle by Chopin is rational, you must feel that your individual taste will not lead you too far astray even if it should prompt you occasionally to depart from the rule.

[Sidenote: _Chopin's Works for a Popular Concert_]

What works of Chopin would you suggest for a popular concert programme?

Nocturne, Opus 27, No. 2; Fantasy Impromptu, Opus 66; Scherzo, Opus 31; Berceuse, Opus 57; Valse, Opus 64, No. 2; Polonaise, Opus 26, No. 1; Chants Polonais (in Liszt's transcription).

[Sidenote: _Taking Liberties with the Tempo_]

In playing Chopin may one take liberties with the tempo and play different parts of the same mazurka or nocturne in various degrees of tempo?

Undoubtedly. But the extent of such liberties depends upon your aesthetic training. In principle your question admits of an affirmative reply, but a specific answer is impossible without an acquaintance with your musical status. I recommend that you be very cautious about "taking liberties"; without, however, ceasing altogether to follow the promptings of your good taste here and there. There is such a thing as "artistic conscience"; consult it always before taking a liberty with the tempo.

[Sidenote: _Omitting One Note in a Chord_]

In the beginning of the Waltz in E minor by Chopin the left hand has to play this chord a number of times. I can stretch any three of the four notes, but not all four. Can one of them be omitted, and which one?

You may omit the upper E, the second note from the top, but you may do so only so long as it is physically impossible for you to strike all the four notes. For, by omitting this note you do alter the tone colour of the chord as well as its sonority. As soon as you have acquired the requisite stretch--and anybody who does possess it--I would advise that the note be not unnecessarily omitted. Chopin evidently meant to have that note played.

[Sidenote: _Masters Cannot be Studied in Order_]

Will you give me your views as to the order in which the masters of piano composition should be studied?

To classify composers, without specifying their works, is never advisable. Beethoven's first and last sonatas differ so fundamentally from each other in every particular that one may play the first one very well and yet be for many years (perhaps forever) unable to play the last one. And still, it is the same Beethoven that wrote both works. We can, therefore, hardly speak of an "order of composers." So long as we are dealing with masters the question should not be: Which master?--but, Which composition does your stage of mental and technical development call for? If you will defer the study of any other composer until you have fully mastered the works of Beethoven--only the principal ones, at that--you will need a life of more length than the Bible allots to the average man.

[Sidenote: _The Greatest Composers as Pianists_]

Is it true that nearly all the great composers have been pianists?

If by pianists you mean musicians whose sole medium of audible musical utterance was the piano, your question admits of no other than an affirmative reply. The only exception I can think of just now was Berlioz; there were, no doubt, others, but none who belongs to the truly great ones. The reason for this is, perhaps, the circumstance that the pianist throughout his education is brought into touch with greater polyphony than the players of other instruments, and that polyphony is a basic principle in music.

[Sidenote: _The Study of Operatic Transcriptions_]

Is the study of Thalberg's operatic transcriptions of any value to the piano student?

Operatic transcriptions begin with Liszt. What was written before him in that line (and in some degree contemporary with him, hence it includes Thalberg) is hardly of any significance. If you feel a special inclination toward the transcriptions of Thalberg you may play them; they will not harm you so very much. But if you ask me whether they are of any musical value I must frankly say, no.

[Sidenote: _Modern Piano Music_]

Are such pieces as "Beautiful Star of Heaven" or "Falling Waters" in good taste? What contemporary composers write good piano music?

Pieces with pretentious names are usually devoid of such contents as their names imply, so that the names are merely a screen to hide the paucity of thoughts and ideas. Speaking very generally, there seems to be not very much good music written for the piano just at present. By far the best comes from Russia. Most of these compositions are rather difficult to play, but there are some easy ones to be found among them, such as the "Music Box," by Liadow, "Fantastic Fairy Tales," No. 12, by Pachulski, and others.

EXERCISES AND STUDIES

[Sidenote: _Exercises for the Beginner to Practise_]

Is there any special book of practice exercises that you think best for a beginner and that you would care to recommend?

Any reliable music publisher will tell you which book of exercises is most in demand. The effect of the exercises depends, of course, upon the way you play them. Indications as to touch, etc., are usually given in such books. What kind of exercises your case demands cannot be determined without a personal examination by an expert.

[Sidenote: _Good Finger Exercises_]

What would you say are the best studies for plain finger work?

The exercises of "Pischna" are to be recommended. They have appeared in two editions, of which one is abridged. They are known as the "large" and the "small Pischna." You may obtain them through any large music house, I think, in the Steingraeber Edition.

[Sidenote: _The Value of Heller's Studies_]

Are Heller's studies practical for a young student lacking in rhythm and expression?

Yes, they are very good, provided the teacher insists that the pupil plays exactly what is indicated and does not merely "come near it."

[Sidenote: _Good Intermediate Books of Etudes_]

Living in the country, where there is no teacher available, I would thank you for telling me what Etudes I ought to study. I have finished those by Cramer and Moscheles, and can play them well, but find those by Chopin too difficult. Are there no intermediate works?

You seem to be fond of playing Etudes. Well, then, I suggest:

"Twelve Etudes for Technique and Expression," by Edmund Neupert.

"Concert Etudes," by Hans Seeling (Peters Edition).

"Etudes," by Carl Baermann (two books), published in Germany.

"Etudes," by Ruthardt (Peters Edition).

But why not select an easy Etude by Chopin and make a start? The best preparation--if not the Etudes themselves--is Heller's Opus 154.

[Sidenote: _Etudes For Advanced Players to Work at_]

What regular technical work would you prescribe for a fairly advanced pianist--one who plays pretty well such things as the Chopin Etudes in C minor, Opus 10, No. 12, and in D flat, Opus 25, No. 8, and the B flat minor prelude?

My advice to advanced players is always that they should construct their technical exercises out of such material as the different places in the pieces at hand furnish. If you should feel the need of Etudes for increasing your endurance and control of protracted difficult passages I suggest that you take up the Etudes by Baermann and those by Kessler. The former are a little easier than the latter.

[Sidenote: _The Value of Clementi's "Gradus" To-day_]

My first teacher laid great store by Clementi's "Gradus ad Parnassum," and insisted upon taking every study in it, while my new teacher, with whom I recently started lessons, says that it is "outlived, superannuated." Was my old or my new teacher right?

They were both right; one as a pedagogue, the other as a musician. As you do not mention the reason of your first teacher's insistence, I must assume that he employed the "Gradus" as exercises, pure and simple. It serves this purpose quite well, though even as studies for the applying of technical disciplines they are, on account of their dryness, "outlived," as your new teacher correctly says. Modern writers have produced studies which combine with their technical usefulness greater musical value and attractiveness.

POLYRHYTHMS

[Sidenote: _Playing Duple Time Against Triple_]

How must I execute triplets played against two-eighths? In Clementi's Sonatina, Opus 37, No. 3, first page, you will find such bars.

In a slow tempo it may serve you to think of the second eighth-note of the triplet as being subdivided into two sixteenths. After both hands have played the first note of their respective groups simultaneously, the place of the aforesaid second sixteenth is to be filled by the second note of the couplet. In faster motion it is far better to practise at first each hand alone and with somewhat exaggerated accents of each group until the two relative speeds are well established in the mind. Then try to play the two hands together in a sort of semi-automatic way. Frequent correct repetition of the same figure will soon change your semi-automatic state into a conscious one, and thus train your ear to listen to and control two different rhythms or groupings at the same time.

[Sidenote: _The Two Hands Playing Different Rhythms_]

How should, in Chopin's Fantasy Impromptu, the four notes of the right be played to the three of the left? Is an exact division possible?

An exact division would lead to such fractions as the musician has no means of measuring and no terms for expressing. There is but one way to play unequal rhythms simultaneously in both hands; study each hand separately until you can depend upon it, and put them together without thinking of either rhythm. Think of the points where the two hands have to meet, the "dead points" of the two motions, and rely on your automatism until, by frequent hearing, you have learned to listen to two rhythms at once.

[Sidenote: _The Old Problem of Duple Time Against Triple_]

How should the above-quoted notes be brought in with the lower triplets?

It would be futile to attempt a precise and conscious division in such cases. The best, in fact, the only, way to do is to practise the hands separately with an exaggerated accent on each beat until the points where the hands meet are well conceived and the relative speed ratios are well understood. Then try to play the hands together, and do not be discouraged if the first attempts fail. Repeat the trial often and you will finally succeed if the separate practice has been sufficient to produce a semi-automatic action of the hands.

PHRASING

[Sidenote: _The Value and Correct Practice of Phrasing_]

Can you give an amateur a concise definition of phrasing and a few helpful suggestions as to clear phrasing?

Phrasing is a rational division and subdivision of musical sentences, and serves to make them intelligible. It corresponds closely with punctuation in literature and its recitation. Find out the start, the end, and the culminating point of your phrase. The last-named is usually to be found upon the highest note of the phrase, while the former are usually indicated by phrasing slurs. Generally speaking, the rising of the melody is combined with an increase of strength up to the point of culmination, where, in keeping with the note design, the decrease of strength sets in. For artistic phrasing it is of the utmost importance properly to recognize the principal mood of the piece, for this must, naturally, influence the rendition of every detail in it. A phrase occurring in an agitated movement, for instance, will have to be rendered very differently from a similar-looking phrase in a slow, dreamy movement.

[Sidenote: _Do Not Raise Wrist in Marking a Rest_]

In observing a rest should the hand be raised from the wrist?

Never! Such a motion should be made only in rapid wrist octaves or other double notes when a staccato is prescribed. The regular way to conclude a phrase, or observe a pause, as you say, is to lift the arm from the keyboard and keep the wrist perfectly limp, so that the arm carries the loosely hanging hand upward.

RUBATO

[Sidenote: _As to Playing Rubato_]

Will you please tell me what is the best method of playing rubato?

The artistic principles ruling rubato playing are good taste and keeping within artistic bounds. The physical principle is balance. What you shorten of the time in one phrase or part of a phrase you must add at the first opportunity to another in order that the time "stolen" (rubato) in one place may be restituted in another. The aesthetic law demands that the total time-value of a music piece shall not be affected by any rubato, hence, the rubato can only have sway within the limits of such time as would be consumed if the piece were played in the strictest time.

[Sidenote: _How to Play Passages Marked "Rubato"_]

I find an explanation of _tempo rubato_ which says that the hand which plays the melody may move with all possible freedom, while the accompanying hand must keep strict time. How can this be done?

The explanation you found, while not absolutely wrong, is very misleading, for it can find application only in a very few isolated cases; only inside of one short phrase and then hardly satisfactorily. Besides, the words you quote are not an explanation, but a mere assertion or, rather, allegation. _Tempo rubato_ means a wavering, a vacillating of time values, and the question whether this is to extend over both hands or over only one must be decided by the player's good taste; it also depends upon whether the occupation of the two hands can be thought of as separate and musically independent. I assume that you are able to play each hand alone with perfect freedom, and I doubt not that you can, with some practice, retain this freedom of each hand when you unite them, but I can see only very few cases to which you could apply such skill, and still less do I see the advantage thereof.

[Sidenote: _Perfect Rubato the Result of Momentary Impulse_]

In playing _rubato_ do you follow a preconceived notion or the impulse of the moment?

Perfect expression is possible only under perfect freedom. Hence, the perfect _rubato_ must be the result of momentary impulse. It is, however, only a few very eminent players that have such command over this means of expression as to feel safe in trusting their momentary impulses altogether. The average player will do well carefully to consider the shifting of time values and to prepare their execution to a certain degree. This should not, however, be carried too far, as it would impair the naturalness of expression and lead to a stereotyped mannerism.

[Sidenote: _The Difference Between Conception and Rubato_]

Is there any difference between conception and _rubato?_

Conception is a generic term and comprises the service of each and all means of expression, among which _rubato_ plays a somewhat prominent part. For it is, so to speak, the musical pulse-beat of the player. Being subordinate to conception, its function and manner must be governed by the latter.

CONCEPTION

[Sidenote: _Different Conceptions May be Individually Correct_]

Can one and the same phrase be conceived differently by different artists and still be individually correct in each instance?

Certainly! Provided that--whatever the conception be--it preserves the logical relations of the parts in building up the phrase, and that it is carried through the whole course of the piece in a consistent manner. Whether a certain conception of a phrase is or is not compatible with the general character of the piece and how far the freedom of conception may extend, it will be for the aesthetic training and the good taste of the player to determine for each and every case separately.

[Sidenote: _Which Should Come First--Conception or Technique?_]

In the first attempts at a new piece must matters of conception be observed at once or only after the piece has been technically mastered?

Unless one is a very experienced reader it will be hardly possible to think of matters of conception until the technical means to express them and the necessary perspective of the piece have been gained. It is always safer first to make sure that the notes as such, and their respective times value have been read correctly, and that the technical difficulties have, to a fair degree, been overcome. This done, the question must be settled as to whether the general character of the piece is dramatic, _i. e._, tragic or conciliatory, melancholy, lyric, rhapsodic, humorous, or changeable, and so forth. Only when our mind on this point is made up with the utmost definiteness, can we approach the details that are conditioned by the conception.

FORCE OF EXAMPLE

[Sidenote: _Hearing a Piece Before Studying It_]

Should a pupil hear a piece played before studying it?

If the pupil's imagination needs stimulation he should hear the piece well played before studying it. If, however, he is merely too lazy to find out the rhythm, melody, and so forth, and rather relies upon his purely imitative faculty, he should not hear it, but be compelled to do his own reading and thinking.

THEORY

[Sidenote: _Why the Pianist Should Study Harmony_]

Do you recommend the study of harmony and counterpoint to the piano student?

By all means! To gain a musical insight into the pieces you play you must be able to follow the course of their harmonies and understand the contrapuntal treatment of their themes. Without the knowledge gained through a serious study of harmony and counter-point your conceptions will be pure guesswork and will lack in outline and definiteness.

[Sidenote: _Why so Many Different Keys?_]

Why is it supposed to be necessary to have fifteen keys to complete the circle of fifths? Why would not twelve suffice, and thus avoid duplicate keys?

Not fifteen, but twenty-five tonalities complete the circle of fifths, theoretically, and they are all necessary because of the many harmonic turns that occur in modern music and which could not be intelligently demonstrated unless we use the tonalities with seven, eight, nine or more sharps and flats. For otherwise we might have to change the signature so frequently as to become utterly confusing to even the most musicianly reader. C-sharp minor has but four sharps, yet the scale of its dominant (its next relative) has eight sharps.

[Sidenote: _The Relation of Harmony to Piano-Playing_]

Is it absolutely necessary for me to study harmony in connection with my piano? My teacher wants me to do it, but I don't see the use! Of what benefit is harmony?

Of what benefit is the general school-work a child has to go through? To play the piano well a good hand and so many hours of practice are not sufficient; it requires a general musical education. This means, first and foremost, a knowledge of harmony, to which you may later add the study of counterpoint and forms. Your teacher is absolutely right.

[Sidenote: _Text-Books on Harmony_]

Would you care to recommend two or three of the best books on the study of harmony?

The doctrine of harmony is ever the same, but the modes of teaching it are constantly changing and, I trust, improving. For this reason I feel a certain hesitation in recommending at this time the text-books which I studied many years ago, especially as I am not certain that they have been translated into English. I advise you, therefore, to inquire of some good teacher of harmony or, at least, of a reliable music publisher or dealer. E. F. Richter and Buessler wrote works of recognized merit, which, though no longer modern, may be safely studied.

[Sidenote: _Learning to Modulate_]

Is it possible to learn modulating from a book without the aid of a teacher, so as to connect two pieces of different tonality?

Possible, yes, but not probable; for since in your written exercises you are likely to err at times, you will need some one to point out your errors and so show you the way to correct them. Generally speaking, I do not think much of studying the rudiments of anything without the aid of an experienced adviser.

[Sidenote: _Studying Counterpoint by One's Self_]

Is it possible to study counterpoint without a teacher, and, if so, what book can you recommend for its study?

It is quite possible, provided you are certain never to misunderstand your text-book and never to commit any errors. Otherwise you will need the advice of an experienced musician in correcting them. A good teacher, however, is always better than a book for this study. Of text-books there are a great many. Any reliable music house will furnish you with a list of them.

[Sidenote: _Should Piano Students Try to Compose?_]

Besides my study of the piano shall I try to compose if I feel the inclination and believe I have some talent for it?

The practice of constructing will always facilitate your work of reconstructing, which is, practically, what the rendition of a musical work means. Hence, I advise every one who feels able to construct even a modest little piece to try his hand at it. Of course, if you can write only a two-step it will not enable you to reconstruct a Beethoven Sonata; still, there may be little places in the Sonata that will clear up in your mind more quickly when you have come in touch with the technical act of putting down on paper what your mind has created, and you will altogether lose the attitude of the absolute stranger when facing a new composition. Do not construe this, however, as an encouragement to write two-steps!

[Sidenote: _The Student Who Wants to Compose_]

Please advise me as to the best way of learning composition. Which is the best work of that kind from which I could learn?

First learn to write notes. Copying all sorts of music is the best practice for that. Then study the doctrine of harmony. Follow it up by a study of the various forms of counterpoint. Proceed to canon in its many kinds and intervals. Take up the fugue. Then study forms until you learn to feel them. Books for every one of these stages there are many, but better than all the books is a good teacher.

[Sidenote: _The Difference Between Major and Minor Scales_]

What is the difference between the major and minor scale? Does it lie in the arrangement of semitones or in the character, or in both?

There are three differences: First, in the arrangement of the semitones; second, in the character; and, third, in the circumstance that the minor scale admits of a number of modifications for melodic purposes which cannot be made in the major scale.

[Sidenote: _There is Only One Minor Scale_]

Which is the true minor scale, the melodic or the harmonic? My teacher insists upon the harmonic, but it sounds ugly to me. Will you please tell me something about it?

There is but one minor scale; it is the one upon which the chords of its tonality are built; it is the one upon which your teacher wisely insists, because the so-called melodic minor scale offers no new intervals to your fingers, and because the term melodic minor scale is applied to that form of deviation from the real scale which is most frequently used, but which is by no means the only deviation that is possible; nor is it the only one in use.

[Sidenote: _What is the Difference Between the Major and Minor Scales?_]

What is the difference between the major and minor scales?

The major scale has a major third and sixth, while the minor scale has a minor third and sixth and raises its seventh to a major seventh by an accidental elevating sign, raising a natural note by a sharp, and a flat note by a natural. If you begin your major scale upon its sixth degree and, counting it as the first of the minor, raise the seventh, you obtain the minor scale, in which, however, many modifications are admissible for melodic (though not for harmonic) purposes.

[Sidenote: _How Waltz, Menuet, Mazurka, and Polonaise Differ_]

As a waltz and a menuet are both in three-fourth time, is it only the tempo in which they differ, or are there other differences?

Waltz, menuet, mazurka, and polonaise are all in three-fourth time and are not confined to a definite tempo. The difference between them lies in the structure. A waltz period--that is, the full expression of a theme--needs sixteen measures; a menuet needs only eight, a mazurka only four measures. In a mazurka a motive occupies only one measure, in the menuet two, and in the waltz four. The polonaise subdivides its quarters into eighths, and the second eighth usually into two sixteenths; it differs, therefore, from the other three dances by its rhythm.

[Sidenote: _The Meaning of "Toccata"_]

What is the meaning of the word "Toccata"? I do not find it in the Italian lexicon and the English musical dictionaries differ widely in their definitions. None of their definitions seems to apply to the Toccata by Chaminade.

To make the matter quite plain let me say, first, that "Cantata" (from _cantare_--to sing) meant in olden times a music piece to be sung; while "Sonata" (from _suonare_--to play) designated a piece to be played on an instrument; and "Toccato" meant a piece for keyboard instruments like the organ or piano and its precursors, written with the intention of providing special opportunities for the display of the skill of touch (from _toccare_--to touch) or, as we would now say, finger technique. The original meanings have changed so that these terms now imply definite forms, like the modern Cantata and Sonata. The Toccata is, at present, understood to be a piece in constant and regular motion, very much like those that are called "_moto perpetuo_" or "perpetual motion," of which Weber's "Perpetuum mobile" is a good example. I have no doubt that the Toccata by Chaminade, which I do not know, is written on similar lines.

THE MEMORY

[Sidenote: _Playing from Memory Is Indispensable_]

Is memorization absolutely essential to a good player?

Playing from memory is indispensable to the freedom of rendition. You have to bear in your mind and memory the whole piece in order to attend properly to its details. Some renowned players who take the printed sheets before them on the stage play, nevertheless, from memory. They take the music with them only to heighten their feeling of security and to counteract a lack of confidence in their memory--a species of nervousness.

[Sidenote: _The Easiest Way to Memorize_]

Will you please tell me which is the easiest way to memorize a piano piece?

Begin by playing it a few times very carefully and slowly until you can play it with a fair degree of exactitude (you need not mind an occasional stopping). Then go over such places as appeared to you especially complex until you understand their construction. Now let the piece rest for a whole day and try to trace in your mind the train of thoughts in the piece. Should you come to a dead stop be satisfied with what you have achieved. Your mind will keep on working, subconsciously, as over a puzzle, always trying to find the continuation. If you find that the memory is a blank take the music in hand, look at the particular place--but only at this--and, since you have now found the connection, continue the work of mental tracing. At the next stop repeat this procedure until you have reached the end, not in every detail, but in large outlines. Of course, this does not mean that you can now _play_ it from memory. You have only arrived at the point of transition from the imagined to the real, and now begins a new kind of study: to transfer to the instrument what you have mentally absorbed. Try to do this piece by piece, and look into the printed sheets (which should not be on the music-rack but away from it) only when your memory absolutely refuses to go on. The real work with the printed music should be reserved to the last, and you should regard it in the light of a proof-reading of your mental impressions. The whole process of absorbing a piece of music mentally resembles that of photographing. The development of the acoustic picture (the tone-picture) is like the bath. The tentative playing is like the process of "fixing" against sensitiveness to lights; and the final work with the printed music is the retouching.

[Sidenote: _In Order to Memorize Easily_]

I find it very hard to memorize my music. Can you suggest any method that would make it easier?

To retain in one's memory what does not interest one is difficult to everybody, while that which does interest us comes easy. In your case the first requirement seems to be that your interest in the pieces you are to play be awakened. This interest usually comes with a deeper understanding of music; hence, it may be said that nothing will assist a naturally reluctant memory so much as a general musical education. Special studies for the memory have not come to my knowledge because I never had any need of them. After all, the best way to memorize is--to memorize. One phrase to-day, another to-morrow, and so on, until the memory grows by its own force through being exercised.

[Sidenote: _Memorizing Quickly and Forgetting as Readily_]

I memorize very easily, so that I can often play my pieces from memory before I have fully mastered their technical difficulties, as my teacher says. But I forget them just as quickly, so that in a few weeks I cannot remember enough of them to play them clear through. What would you advise, to make my memory more retentive?

There are two fundamental types of memory: One is very mobile--it acquires quickly and loses just as quickly; the other is more cumbrous in its action--it acquires slowly, but retains forever. A combination of the two is very rare, indeed; I never heard of such a case. A remedy against forgetting you will find in refreshing your memory in regular periods, playing your memorized pieces over (carefully) every four or five days. Other remedies I know not and I see no necessity for them.

[Sidenote: _To Keep Errors from Creeping in_]

I can always memorize a piece before I can play it fast. Do you advise practising with notes when I already know it by heart?

The occasional playing of a memorized piece from the notes will keep errors from creeping in, provided you read the music correctly and carefully.

SIGHT READING

[Sidenote: _The Best Way to Improve Sight-Reading_]

Is there any practical method that will assist one to greater rapidity in sight-reading?

The best way to become a quick reader is to read as much as possible. The rapidity of your progress depends upon the state of your general musical education, for the more complete this is the better you will be able to surmise the logical sequel of a phrase once started. A large part of sight-reading consists of surmising, as you will find upon analyzing your book-reading.

[Sidenote: _To Gain Facility in Sight-Reading_]

What is a good plan to pursue to improve the facility in sight-reading?

Much reading and playing at sight and as fast as possible, even though at first some slight inaccuracies may creep in. By quick reading you develop that faculty of the eye which is meant by "grasp," and this, in turn, facilitates your reading of details.

ACCOMPANYING

[Sidenote: _Learning To Accompany at Sight_]

How can one learn to accompany at sight?

Develop your sight-reading by playing many accompaniments, and endeavour--while playing your part--also to read and inwardly hear the solo part.

[Sidenote: _The Art of Accompanying a Soloist_]

How should one manage the accompaniment for a soloist inclined to play rubato?

Since you cannot make a contract of artistically binding force with a soloist you must take refuge in "following." But do not take this word in its literal meaning; rather endeavour to divine the intentions of your soloist from moment to moment, for this divining is the soul of accompanying. To be, in this sense, a good accompanist, one must have what is called in musical slang a good "nose"--that is, one must musically "scent" whither the soloist is going. But, then, the nose is one of the things we are born with. We may develop it, as to its sensitiveness, but we cannot acquire a nose by learning. Experience will do much in these premises, but not everything.

[Sidenote: _Learning the Art of Accompanying_]

Wishing to become an accompanist I anticipate completing my studies in Berlin. What salary might I expect and what would be the best "course" to pursue?

An experienced and very clever accompanist may possibly earn as much as fifty dollars a week if associated with a vocal, violin, or 'cello artist of great renown. Usually, however, accompanists are expected to be able to play solos. There are no special schools for accompanists, though there may be possibly some special courses in which experience may be fostered. If you come to Berlin you will find it easy to find what you seem to be seeking.

TRANSPOSING

[Sidenote: _The Problem of Transposing at Sight_]

What, please, is the quickest and safest way of transposing from one key to another? I have trouble, for instance, in playing for singing if the piece is in A major and the singer wants it in F major.

The question of transposing hinges on the process of hearing through the eye. I mean by this that you must study the piece until you learn to conceive the printed music as sounds and sound groups, not as key pictures. Then transfer the sound picture to another tonality in your mind, very much as if when moving from one floor to another with all your household goods you were to place them on the new floor as they were placed on the old. Practice will, of course, facilitate this process very much. Transposition at sight is based on somewhat different principles. Here you have to get mentally settled in the new tonality, and then follow the course of intervals. If you find transposition difficult you may derive consolation from the thought that it is difficult for everybody, and that transposing at sight is, of course, still more difficult than to transpose after studying the piece beforehand.

PLAYING FOR PEOPLE

[Sidenote: _When to "Play For People"_]

During the period of serious study may I play for people (friends or strangers) or should I keep entirely away from the outside world?

From time to time you may play for people the pieces you have mastered, but take good care to go over them afterward--the difficult places slowly--in order to eliminate any slight errors or unevenness that may have crept in. To play for people is not only a good incentive for further aspirations; it also furnishes you with a fairly exact estimate of your abilities and shortcomings, and indicates thereby the road to improvement. To retire from the outside world during the period of study is an outlived, obsolete idea which probably originated in the endeavour to curb the vanity of such students as would neglect their studies in hunting, prematurely, for applause. I recommend playing for people moderately and on the condition that for every such "performance" of a piece you play it afterward twice, slowly and carefully, at home. This will keep the piece intact and bring you many other unexpected advantages.

[Sidenote: "_Afraid to Play Before People_"]

I can never do myself justice when playing for people, because of my nervousness. How can I overcome it?

If you are absolutely certain that your trouble is due to "nervousness" you should improve the condition of your nerves by proper exercise in the open air and by consulting your physician. But are you quite sure that your "nervousness" is not merely another name for self-consciousness, or, worse yet, for a "bad conscience" on the score of technical security? In the latter case you ought to perfect your technique, while in the former you must learn to discard all thought of your dear self, as well as of your hearers in relation to you, and concentrate your thinking upon the work you are to do. This you can well achieve by will-power and persistent self-training.

[Sidenote: _Effect of Playing the Same Piece Often_]

I have heard artists play the same piece year after year, and each time as expressively as before. After a piece has been played several hundred times it can hardly produce on the player the same emotional effect that it originally did. Is it possible for a player by his art and technical resources so to colour his tones that he can stimulate and produce in his audience an emotional condition which he himself does not at the time feel?

In music emotion can be conveyed only through the means and modes of expression that are peculiar to music, such as dynamic changes, vacillations of tempo, differences of touch and kindred devices. When a piece is played in public very often on consecutive occasions--which artists avoid as much as they can--these expressions gradually assume a distinct form which is quite capable of preservation. Though it will in time lose its life-breath, it can still produce a deception just as (to draw a drastic parallel) a dead person may look as if he were only asleep. In this parallel the artist has, however, one great advantage. Since he cannot play a piece very often without having a number of errors, rearrangements, slight changes creeping into it, he must, in order to eliminate them and to cleanse the piece, return from time to time to slow practice in which he also refrains almost entirely from expression. When in the next public performance the right tempo and expression are added again they tend strongly to renew the freshness of the piece in the player's mind.

[Sidenote: _The Pianist Who Fails to Express Herself_]

I love music dearly and my teacher is always satisfied with my lessons, but when I play for my friends I never make a success. They compliment me, but I feel that they do not care for my playing; even my mother says that my playing is "mechanical." How can I change it?

It is just possible that your friends and your mother may not be amenable to the high class of music which you play, but if this is not the case your affliction cannot be cured offhand. If the lack of expression in your playing should emanate from a lack of feeling in yourself, then your case would be incurable. If, however, you play "mechanically" because you do not know how to express your emotions in your playing--and I suspect it to be so--then you are curable, although there are no remedies that would act directly. I suggest that you form close associations with good musicians and with lovers of good music. By looking well and listening you can learn their modes of expression and employ them first by imitation until the habit of "saying something" when you play has grown upon you. I think, though, that you need an inward change before there can be any outward change.

[Sidenote: _The Art of Playing With Feeling_]

In the musical manifestations of feeling how does the artist chiefly differ from the amateur?

The artist expresses his feelings with due deference to the canons of art. Above all, he plays correctly without allowing this ever-present correctness to make his playing seem lacking in feeling. Without unduly repressing or suppressing his individuality he respects the composer's intentions by punctiliously obeying every hint or suggestion he finds in the annotations, concerning speed, force, touch, changes, contrasts, etc. He delivers the composer's message truthfully. His personality or individuality reveals itself solely in the way he understands the composition and in the manner in which he executes the composer's prescriptions.

Not so the amateur. Long before he is able to play the piece correctly he begins to twist and turn things in it to suit himself, under the belief, I suppose, that he is endowed with an "individuality" so strong as to justify an indulgence in all manner of "liberties," that is, licence. Feeling is a great thing; so is the will to express it; but both are worthless without ability. Hence, before playing with feeling, it were well to make sure that everything in the piece is in the right place, in the right time, strength, touch, and so forth. Correct reading--and not only of the notes _per se_--is a matter that every good teacher insists upon with his pupils, even in the earliest grades of advancement. The amateur should make sure of that before he allows his "feelings" to run riot. But he very seldom does.

[Sidenote: _Affected Movements at the Piano_]

Is there any justification for the swaying of the body, the nodding of the head, the exaggerated motion of the arms, and all grotesque actions in general while playing the piano, so frequently exhibited not only by amateurs but by concert players, too?

All such actions as you describe reveal a lack of the player's proper self-control when they are unconsciously indulged in. When they are consciously committed, which is not infrequently the case, they betray the pianist's effort to deflect the auditors' attention from the composition to himself, feeling probably unable to satisfy his auditors with the result of his playing and, therefore, resorting to illustration by more or less exaggerated gesture. General well-manneredness, or its absence, has a good deal to do with the matter.

ABOUT THE PIANO PER SE

[Sidenote: _Is the Piano the Hardest to Master?_]

Do you believe that the piano is the most difficult of all instruments to master--more so than the organ or the violin? If so, why?

The piano is more difficult to master than the organ, because the tone-production on the piano is not so purely mechanical as it is on the organ. The pianist's touch is the immediate producer of whatever variety or colour of tone the moment requires, whereas the organist is powerless to produce any change of tone colour except by pulling a different stop. His fingers do not and cannot produce the change. As to string instruments, their difficulties lie in an entirely different field, and this fact precludes comparison with the piano. Technically, the string instrument may be more difficult, but, to become an exponent of musical art on the piano requires deeper study, because the pianist must present to his hearers the totality of a composition while the string instruments depend for the most part upon the accompaniments of some other instruments.

[Sidenote: _Piano Study for Conductor and Composer_]

Being a cornet player, and wishing to become a conductor and composer, I should like to know if the study of the piano is necessary in addition to my broad, theoretical studies and a common college course.

It depends upon what you wish to conduct and what to compose. With no other means of musically expressing yourself than a cornet it is highly improbable that you will be able to write or conduct a symphony. But you may be able to lead a brass band and, perhaps, to write a march or dance piece. If your musical aims are serious by all means take to the piano.

[Sidenote: _Why the Piano Is So Popular_]

Why do more people play the piano than any other instrument?

Because the rudimentary stages of music study are easier on the piano than on any other instrument. The higher stages, however, are so much more difficult, and it is then that the piano gets even with the bold aggressor. A violinist or 'cellist who can play a melody simply and with good tone is considered a fairly good amateur, for he must have mastered the difficulty of tone-production; he must have trained his right arm. A pianist who can play a melody equally well is the merest tyro. When he approaches polyphony, when the discrimination begins between the various parts speaking simultaneously, aye, then the real work begins--not to speak of velocity. It is, perhaps, for this reason that in reality there are a great many more violinists than pianists, if by either we mean persons who really master their instrument. The number of 'cellists is smaller, but the reason for this is to be found in the small range of 'cello literature and also, perhaps, in the comparative unwieldiness of the instrument, which does not admit of technical development as, for instance, the more handy violin. If all beginners at the piano realized what exasperating, harassing, discouraging, nerve-consuming difficulties await them later and beset the path to that mastery which so few achieve, there would be far fewer piano students and more people would study the violin or the 'cello. Of the harp and the wind instruments I need not speak, because they are to be considered only in matters orchestral and not--seriously--as solo instruments.

[Sidenote: _The Genuine Piano Hand_]

What shape of hand do you consider the best for piano playing? Mine is very broad, with rather long fingers.

The best piano hand is not the popular, pretty, narrow hand with long fingers. Nearly all the great technicians had or have proportioned hands. The genuine piano hand must be broad, in order to give each finger a strong base for the action of its phalanges and to give this base space enough for the development of the various sets of muscles. The length of the fingers must be in proportion to the width of the hand, but it is the width which I consider most important.

[Sidenote: _The Composition Must Fit the Player_]

Would you advise players with small hands to attempt the heavier class of the compositions by Liszt?

Never! Whether the hands are too small or the stretch between the fingers too narrow--if you attempt a piece which for these or other physical reasons you cannot fully master, you always run the serious risk of overstraining. This, however, should be most carefully avoided. If you cannot play a certain piece without undue physical strain, leave it alone and remember that singers choose their songs not because they lie within their compass, but because they suit their voice. Do likewise. Be guided by the nature and the type of your hand rather than by its rapidity of execution.

[Sidenote: _The Best Physical Exercise for the Pianist_]

What physical exercises are most advantageous to be taken in connection with piano practice? I have been swinging clubs to strengthen wrists and arms, but have imagined it stiffened my fingers.

I am inclined to think that what you imagined was not far from the truth. Can you not replace the real clubs by imaginary ones? Since club-swinging tends to develop the agility of the arms and wrists rather than their strength you can easily make the same motions without the clubs; for all exertion of force that keeps the hands in a closed condition is bound to have a bad effect on piano playing. Undoubtedly the best exercise of all, however, is brisk walking in the open air, for it engages every part and every organ of the body, and by compelling deep breathing it fosters the general health through increased oxygenation.

[Sidenote: _Horseback Riding Stiffens the Fingers_]

My teacher objects to my riding horseback; not altogether, but he says I overdo it and it stiffens my fingers. Is he right?

Yes, he is. Every abuse carries its own punishment in its train. The closed position of the hand, the pressure of the reins upon the fingers, as constant as it is the case in horseback riding, is surely not advantageous for the elasticity of the fingers. You should, therefore, allow the effect of one ride upon your fingers to disappear completely before you indulge in another.

[Sidenote: _When to Keep Away from the Piano_]

Do you think I should play and study the piano just because it is asked of me, and when I take no interest in it?

Most emphatically, no! It would be a crime against yourself and against music. What little interest in music you may have left would be killed by a study that is distasteful to you, and this would be, therefore, bound to lead to failure. Leave this study to people who are sincerely interested in it. Thank heaven, there are still some of those, and there always will be some! Be sure, however, that you are really not interested, and discriminate well between a lack of interest and a mere opposition to a perhaps too strenuous urging on the part of your relatives. My advice would be to quit the study for a time entirely; if, after a while, you feel a craving for music you will find the way to your instrument. This advice, of course, holds good also for violin students or any type of music student.

BAD MUSIC

[Sidenote: _The Company That One Keeps in Music_]

Must I persist in playing classical pieces when I prefer to play dance music?

If, in your daily life, you wish to be regarded as a lady or a gentleman you are obliged to be careful as to the company you keep. It is the same in musical life. If you associate with the noble thoughts that constitute good--or, as you call it, classical--music, you will be counted with a higher class in the world of music. Remember that you cannot go through a flour-mill without getting dusty. Of course, not all pieces of dance music are bad; but the general run of them are such poor, if not vulgar, stuff as hardly to deserve the name of "compositions." Usually they are mere "expositions" of bad taste. Of these I warn you for your own sake, and if you wish to avoid the danger of confounding the good and the bad in that line it is best to abstain from it entirely. If dance music it must be, why, have you never heard of the waltzes and mazurkas by Chopin?

[Sidenote: _Why Rag-Time Is Injurious_]