SECRETS.
_(A Discourse on Piano-Playing, delivered to an Audience of Lady
Pupils.)_
Ladies,--As I am about to make a journey of a few weeks with my
daughters, we will suspend for a short time our musical meetings. On my
return, you will resume them with fresh interest. We will then not only
play and sing together, but occasionally talk upon kindred subjects.
Your friends will be made welcome, provided they are really interested
in simple and noble musical performances, which make no attempt at
display. We will exclude from our circle malicious criticism and idle
curiosity: we require the accompaniment of the violin and 'cello, but
not of those two disturbing elements.
To-day I wish to propound a query in regard to piano-playing, to the
partial solution of which you will perhaps be glad to give some
attention. You may be sure that I shall always speak only upon subjects
which are not even mentioned in the most crowded piano-schools.
_Query._ Why is it that our young, educated ladies, who enjoy the
advantages of sufficient talent, industry, a serious purpose, and all
the necessary aids, are usually dissatisfied with their progress and
with their success in piano-playing?
Their education is a sufficiently careful one, extending to all branches
of knowledge; but their intellectual advancement in music (although it
has been fostered for years, by constantly listening to good music, and
frequently to the performances of distinguished players, and by a
critical comparison of their own performances with these) is still small
in proportion to their power of execution, and to the mechanical
facility which they have acquired. These are certainly essential to a
correct and agreeable rendering of a piece of music: the compositions
which are to be performed ought, however, never to demand the exercise
of all the mechanical skill which has been acquired, for in that case,
by the struggle with mechanical difficulties, only embarrassment,
discouragement, and anxious haste are apt to take the place of boldness,
confidence in one's self, and command of the music. It is the duty of
teachers, in choosing studies for the improvement of technique, to
select only such as are within the mechanical powers of the pupil, in
order that he may make steady progress, and may acquire a pure and
delicate style of execution, retaining at the same time a lively
interest in his pursuit. But why has the acquirement of this technique
been usually unsuccessful?
1. Because you begin to acquire it too late. In order to gain facility
and flexibility of the fingers and wrist (which a child in the sixth or
seventh year, with a skilful teacher, may acquire in four lessons), from
fifteen to twenty lessons, according to the construction of the hand,
are necessary with persons from ten to fourteen years old. For other
reasons also, we must urge that the mechanical facility should usually
be acquired, or at least a complete foundation for it laid in childhood,
and not left to be formed by a course which is destructive of all
spirit, at an age when labor is performed with self-consciousness,--an
age when our ladies are talking a great deal of musical interpretations,
of tenderness and depth of feeling, of poetry and inspiration in
playing, to which they are led by the possession of our classical piano
compositions and immortal master-works, and by intellectual friends and
teachers aiming at the highest culture. You reply: "But even if your
mode of elementary instruction should meet with faithful disciples, how,
in such young pupils, are we to find perseverance and sense enough to
continue these severe exercises, even in your interesting manner?" My
dear ladies, children ought to do it merely from habit, although in many
cases, after the beginning, talent and correct musical instinct may make
their appearance. Uninterrupted enjoyment would indeed be unnatural, and
where you find it vanity will usually be its moving spring, and this
seldom bears good fruit. You may as well ask whether our great literary
men and artists always like to go to school, or whether they did not
delight in a holiday. Let this be the answer to the strange question, Do
your daughters like to play? Good heavens! After they are able to play,
and that without much effort, and a little at sight; when they can
master, with a musical appreciation, easy, graceful salon music, or even
the easier compositions of Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Chopin, Hummel,
Moscheles, &c.,--then they take pleasure in playing, and they play a
great deal, and with enthusiasm.
2. But, in case children should sometimes begin in their sixth year, you
must remember what is said, in the first chapter of this work, with
regard to the prevalent false method of teaching beginners. You,
however, are supposed to have had better and more sensible teachers. Let
me nevertheless quote for your amusement the remark which I have heard
so frequently in the course of my long life as a piano-teacher: "In the
beginning, a poor, rattling piano, that is forty years old, and that is
tuned regularly once a year, and a cheap teacher, will do well enough.
As soon as the children learn to play really well, then we will have a
better piano and a better teacher." Yes; but that time never comes, and
the parents soon conclude that even the most gifted children have no
talent, and take no pleasure in music; and so they stop learning, only
to regret it when they are older. But the parents console themselves,
and after a while the old piano is never tuned at all. But, as I have
told you, I do not refer here to _your_ teachers, for whom I have a
personal regard, and who teach on excellent pianos.
3. Don't be angry with me for my suggestion, ladies: _you do not make
enough use of the minutes_. While our learned education absorbs so much
time, while our friends require so many hours, while, alas! balls and
dinners consume whole days, we must be sparing of the remaining minutes.
"Now I must rush to the piano! I must go to dinner in ten minutes: two
scales, two finger exercises, two difficult passages out of the piece I
have to learn, and one exercise to invent on the dominant and
sub-dominant, are soon done; and then the dinner will taste all the
better."
"My dear Agnes, we might talk for ever about this dreadful snow, it
won't melt the sooner for it: how do you like this passage that I am
going to play to you? It is from a charming Nocturne, by Chopin, and is
so difficult that I shall have to play it over fifty times, or else I
shall always stumble at this place, and I never shall know the Nocturne
to play to any one. Don't you think it is beautiful?--so spiritual and
original! I can tell you it will be something to boast of, when I have
accomplished that. You like it better the oftener I play it? So do I."
"We have an invitation out. Mother has a great deal to arrange, and
directions to give. We shall have to go in ten minutes. I must rush to
the piano, though I am in rather an inconvenient toilette: I may as well
accustom myself to play in it. I shall have to spend three hours this
evening without any music. Well, to make up for it, I will occupy myself
for the next ten minutes with an exercise for this obstinate fourth
finger, though it is pretty dry. That weak finger has been a hindrance
to many a fine passage and scale. That is better! Now I can put on my
tight gloves. Suppose I should put on the left glove on the way."
Well, my young ladies, how many hours do you think all those minutes
would make in a year? But I hear you say, "What is the use of worrying
to pick up all those stray minutes, like lost pins? We have a whole hour
to practise every day, when nothing prevents." Exactly, when nothing
prevents.
I will now tell you a few of my secrets for piano performers.
If in piano-playing, or in any art, you wish to attain success, you must
resolve to work every day, at least a little, on the technique. Sickness
and other unavoidable interruptions deprive you of days enough.
Practise always with unexhausted energy: the result will be tenfold. Do
you not frequently use the time for practising, when you have already
been at work studying for five or six hours? Have you then strength and
spirit enough to practise the necessary exercises for an hour or more,
and to study your music-pieces carefully and attentively, as your
teacher instructed you? Is not your mind exhausted, and are not your
hands and fingers tired and stiff with writing, so that you are tempted
to help out with your arms and elbows, which is worse than no practice
at all? But, my dear ladies, if you practise properly, several times
every day, ten minutes at a time, your strength and your patience are
usually sufficient for it; and, if you are obliged to omit your regular
"hour's practice," you have, at any rate, accomplished something with
your ten minutes before breakfast, or before dinner, or at any leisure
moment. So, I beg of you, let me have my minutes.
Practise often, slowly, and without pedal, not only the smaller and
larger études, but also your pieces. In that way you gain, at least, a
correct, healthy mode of playing, which is the foundation of beautiful
playing. Do you do this when neither your teacher, nor your father or
mother is present to keep watch over you? Do you never say, "Nobody is
listening"?
Do you take enough healthy exercise in the open air? Active exercise, in
all weather, makes strong, enduring piano fingers, while subsisting on
indoor-air results in sickly, nervous, feeble, over-strained playing.
Strong, healthy fingers are only too essential for our present style of
piano-playing, which requires such extraordinary execution, and for our
heavy instruments. So I still beg for the minutes: your walks take up
hours enough.
Excessive and fatiguing feminine occupations, and drawing, or painting,
are by no means consistent with an earnest, practical musical education;
not only because both those occupations require so much time, but
because they deprive the fingers of the requisite pliability and
dexterity, while knitting, according to the latest discoveries, produces
an unnatural nervous excitement, which is unfavorable to healthy
progress in music. I at least, in my instruction on the piano, have
never been able to accomplish much with ladies who are devoted to
knitting, crochet, and embroidering. My dear ladies, you who have been
born in fortunate circumstances, and have been educated by your parents,
without regard to expense, should, at least, allow the poor girl in the
country, who is obliged to hide her talents under a bushel, the small
privilege of making a collar for your mother's or your aunt's birthday
present. I assure you your mother or your aunt, if you surprise them
instead with a fine piano performance, will be as much pleased as if you
strained your eyes and bent your back for days and nights over the
needle-work. And now as regards painting: painting and music, though
theoretically so nearly related, agree but poorly in practice; at least,
if you are in earnest about either. You say painters often play on the
guitar and the flute. That may be true: I will allow them those two
instruments. But piano-playing stands on a different footing, even for
mere amateurs. Sweet melodies on those instruments may afford an
agreeable companionship for the painter in his rambles through the woods
and over the hills; but piano-playing should be the friend of a
life-time, ennobled by the elevating enjoyment of lofty master-works.
Therefore, I beg you, do not dissipate your powers too much. Leave the
art of painting to your friends, who are either without talent for
music, or who have no opportunity to study it. Our short lives do not
allow the successful practice of several arts. Of what advantage to our
higher culture is it to be able to do ten things tolerably well; what
gain for the future, for humanity, or for the true happiness of the
individual? And even if you can succeed in painting something which
scarcely can be said to resemble a rose, of what advantage is it, when
we have so many real roses to admire?
My dear ladies, I warn you, generally, do not be afraid of the
so-called classical, heavy music, especially Beethoven's, if you desire
to learn from it, only or chiefly, repose, lightness, facility,
elasticity, graceful, delicate playing, and a fine touch. It is
necessary to play such music after those brilliant qualities have
already been, to a certain degree, acquired by mere studies and
appropriate pieces. It is, however, still more foolish and impractical,
when parents (who perhaps are skilful musicians, but who have no
recollection of their own youth) hold the mistaken opinion that their
children ought, from the very beginning, to practise and play only fine
classical music, in order that the children's ears may not be injured by
false progressions, by insignificant finger exercises, and by easily
comprehensible Italian airs, and that they themselves may not be ruined
body and soul. Gracious heavens! how much pure music, suited to the
piano, have not my daughters, as well as many others whom I have brought
up to be fine performers, played and studied!--such, for instance, as
the music of Hünten, Czerny, Burgmüller, Kalkbrenner, A. and J. Schmitt,
Herz, and many others. Who finds fault now with their musical culture,
with their sound taste, or their want of love for classical music? What
a long road a child has to travel through Etudes of Cramer, Moscheles,
and Chopin, before he comes to Bach's Well-tempered Clavichord, or
before he is able, or ought even, to study Beethoven's Sonate
Pathétique! It is not well, though quite in the spirit of the times, to
condemn without experience, from one's own prejudiced point of view, the
methods which those skilled in their business have for years
successfully tried and practised. It is possible to make pupils musical
in the above way, but they will be only dull, clumsy bunglers on the
piano; not fine artists, who alone can give a worthy and noble
interpretation of classical music. I desire that my daughters may never
forget my well-considered instructions, sustained by the experience of
many years; and that they may, in grateful remembrance of their father
and teacher, repay to their pupils what they owe to him.
But I see among my audience several beginners in singing, and I beg to
be allowed a word to them. So long as many of our German song composers
consider it beneath their dignity to study the art of singing in the old
Italian master-works, and under the guidance of well-qualified singing
masters,--as Gluck, Naumann, Hasse, Händel, Haydn, Mozart, Salieri,
Winter, and others have done,--I warn you to take care of your tender
voices, which are so easily ruined, and not to allow yourselves to be
misled by ingenious opinions, and by music otherwise good. The loss of
your voices follows in the footsteps of modern tortures in singing, as
you may see sufficiently in all our theatres, or, indeed, may experience
yourselves in numberless German songs. Apply also to singing what I have
just said about piano-playing: as you should choose for the piano music
suited to the piano, so for your studies in singing select only that
which is adapted to the voice; under the guidance of prudent and
educated teachers, not of modern voice breakers, who allow you to
scream, "in order to bring out the voice." When you have acquired a good
technique, when your attack is sure, and a certain skilfulness in
singing has been developed, then only you may try, by way of experiment,
a few pieces of such spirited but unskilled song composers, who
frequently commit sins in every line against correct representation, the
register of the voice, the breathings, the pronunciation, and a hundred
other things.
Look around and see who sing these so-called classical songs. They are
either singers who do not know what singing is, and who have no taste
for it, which, in consequence of their education, they never can have;
or those who no longer have any voice, and accordingly sing every thing,
or, rather, declaim it, because they cannot sing. I recommend you to
sing (to mention the names of two only of our most excellent song
composers) the charming songs of Fr. Schubert and Mendelssohn, who, in
constant intercourse with the most judicious masters of singing in
Vienna and Italy, have striven constantly to compose scientifically, and
have at the same time produced clever songs; but you should sing them
not too often, or too many of them. Singing in the German language, and
in syllables, and often with clumsy melodies, requires a great deal of
voice, and easily leads to many faults and to a false manner. Remember
how strictly Jenny Lind selected, for performance in her concerts, the
songs of Schubert, Mendelssohn, and Schumann. In this way she succeeded
in winning great success, even with small, short songs.
Finally, one more secret for performers, which weighs heavy in the
balance. You ought, especially if you have not received good early
instruction, to acquire a habit of moving the fingers very frequently,
at every convenient opportunity; and particularly of letting them fall
loosely and lightly upon any hard object, while the hand lies upon
something firm, in an extended position.
You must accustom yourselves to do this unconsciously. For example,
while reading, at table, or while listening to music, allow your hand to
lie upon the table, raise the fingers, and let them fall, one at a time,
quite independently of the wrist; particularly the weak fourth and fifth
fingers, which require to be used a hundred times more than the others,
if you wish to acquire evenness in the scales. If it attracts attention
to do this on the table, then do it in your lap, or with one hand over
the other. To drum with your fingers and stretch your hands on the backs
of other people is not often practicable, and is not necessary. That was
only pardoned in the zealous and original Adolph Henselt, who, though
otherwise such a modest and amiable artist, even now, in St. Petersburg,
makes himself ridiculous in this way, by his practice of finger
movements.
Now you perceive the reason why I cannot answer the question which has
been asked me innumerable times. How much do your daughters practise? I
cannot count up the finger movements and the stray ten minutes just
spoken of; but it is certain that they practise fewer hours in the day
than many thousands who learn nothing, for they never practise and
never have practised wrongly, but always correctly and advantageously.
One thing more. After my experienced, watchful eye had observed in our
circle many moving fingers in consequence of my lecture, a distinguished
lady of Vienna whispered in my ear: "But, my dear Herr Wieck, my Amelia
is not to be a professional player: I only want her to learn a few of
the less difficult sonatas of Beethoven, to play correctly and fluently,
without notes." My dear ladies, I do not aim with you at any thing more
than this. A great many circumstances must combine for the formation of
fine concert performers; in fact, the whole education, from the earliest
youth, must have reference to this end. If this were not so, Germany
especially, on account of its natural musical talent, would be able
annually to furnish thousands of _virtuoso_ performers.
Has my lecture been too long to-day? I ask your pardon. My desire to
make myself useful to you must be my excuse, if I cannot dispose of such
an extensive subject in a few words. I have not yet exhausted it.