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 of

careful thought, and evidently a good musician,--for we are told that

a melody composed by him is frequently said, even to this day, to be

by Mozart. This Gottfried lived in Vienna with his father, and to

their house Mozart often went. At this time Mozart had an album in

which his friends were invited to write. Among the verses is a

sentiment written by Gottfried von Jacquin, saying:

"True genius is impossible without heart; no amount of intellect alone

or of imagination, no, nor of both together, can make genius. Love is

the soul of genius."

Here we have the same truth told us which we have already found for

ourselves, namely, that all good music comes from the heart. We have

found it by studying music and striving faithfully to get deep into

its real meaning. But to-day we have the words of one who was enabled

to watch closely as a friend one of the greatest composers that ever

lived. And being much with him, hearing the music of the master played

by the master himself, put the thought into his head, that it is

impossible to be a true genius without heart and love.

From this we shall have courage to know that what we pursue in music

is real; that the beauties of great music, though they may just now be

beyond 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 we

think of the beauty around us, and desire to be worthy of it, we are

then forming an ideal, and ideals are only of value when we strive to

live up to them.

Once in Rome there lived a Greek slave--some day you may read his

name. He has told us, that "if thou wouldst have aught of good, have

it from thyself."[61] Of course we see in this, immediately, the truth

that has been spoken of in nearly every one of these Talks. It is

this: 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 manner

without thinking of it. If every task is done in our best way it adds

something to us. It is true and beautiful, too, that the reward for

patient, faithful work comes silently to us, and often we do not know

of its presence. But some day, finding ourselves stronger, we look to

know the cause of it, and we see that the faithfulness of past days

has aided us.

So art teaches us a very practical lesson in the beginning. If we

would have her favors we must do her labors. If we say to music: "I

should love to know you;" music says to us, "Very well, work and your

wish shall be gratified." But without that labor we cannot have that

wish. 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 for

nothing. Many think it has, and pursue it until the truth dawns upon

them; then, because of their error, they dislike it. To recognize the

truth about art and to pursue that truth, despite the hard road, is to

have courage. And the Ideal is nothing else than the constant presence

of this truth.

And what do we gain by pursuing it? Not common pleasure, but true

happiness; not uncertainty, but true understanding; not selfish life,

but true and full life. And we can see the beauty of art in nothing

more plainly than in the fact that all these things may come to a

child, and a new and brighter life is made possible by them.

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

master:

"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 will

labor with it _until the light comes_, then we are truly rewarded and

made richer according to our faith.

We must not forget in the first days, as we leave our music, that the

path we have taken since we came together is the hardest; not for

always, but for now. The right path is hard at first--the wrong one is

hard always.

We will understand it all better in other days if we remain faithful

now. If, however, we should forget for a moment that art demands our

loyalty, 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 right

one. Sometimes out of impatience we do this; out of impatience and

self-love, which is the worst of all. "Truth is the beginning of all

good, and the greatest of all evils is self-love."[62]

With the trials that music costs us, with its pains and

discouragements, we might easily doubt all these promises which are

contained in our ideals, but we shall be forever saved from deserting

them if we remember that these ideals have been persistently held by

great men. They have never given them up. One of the strongest

characteristics of Bach and of Beethoven was their determination to

honor their thoughts. Sometimes we find the same persistence and

faithfulness in lesser men.

I am sure you will see this faith beautifully lived in the few facts

we 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, that

when pleased with a pupil's work he would draw aside a curtain which

covered a portrait of Bach and let the faithful one gaze upon it for a

moment. That was to him the greatest reward he could give for

faithfulness in the music task.

And this reminds us of how the teacher, Pistocchi, who, in teaching

the voice, kept in mind a pure tone, a quiet manner of singing, and

the true artistic way of doing. Among his pupils was a certain Antonio

Bernacchi, who, after leaving his master, began to display his voice

by runs and trills and meaningless tones. And this he did, not because

of true art, for that was not it, but because it brought him the

applause of unthinking people.

Once, when the master, Pistocchi, heard him do this he is said to have

exclaimed: "Ah, I taught thee how to _sing_, and now thou wilt

_play_;" meaning that the true song was gone and the pupil no longer

sang out of the heart, but merely out of the throat. Pistocchi kept

his ideal pure.

We have then among our ideals two of first importance. The ideal

perception of music, as being the true heart-expression of great men;

and the ideal of our doings, which is the true heart-expression of

ourselves. And to keep these ideals is difficult in two ways: The

difficulty of keeping the pure intention of great men ever before us,

and the difficulty of keeping close and faithful to the tasks assigned

us. Then we can say with the little child:

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

Music Talks with Children · 第 19 / 25 章