I. INTRODUCTORY.
Of the thousands of people who consider themselves lovers of music, it is surprising how few have any real appreciation of it. It is safe to say that out of any score of persons gathered to hear music, whether it be hymn, song, oratorio, opera, or symphony, ten are not listening at all, but are looking at the others, or at the performers, or at the scenery or programme, or are lost in their own thoughts. Five more are basking in the sound as a dog basks in the sun—enjoying it in a sleepy, languid way, but not actively following it at all. For them music is, as a noted critic has said, "a drowsy reverie, relieved by nervous thrills." Then there are one or two to whom the music is bringing pictures or stories: visions of trees, cascades, mountains, and rivers fill their minds, or they dream of princesses in old castles, set free from magic slumber by brave heroes from afar. Perhaps also there is one who takes a merely scientific interest in the music: he is so busy analysing themes and labelling motives that he forgets to enjoy. Only two out of the twenty are left, then, who are actively following the melodies, living over again the thoughts of the composer, really appreciating, by vigorous and delightful attention, the beauties of the music itself.
Can we not, you and I, join the ranks of these true lovers of music? Can we not learn to free our minds of all side issues as we listen—to forget audience, performers, and scene, to forget princesses and heroes, to forget everything except this unique experience that is unfolding itself before our ears? Can we not, arousing ourselves from our drowsy reverie, follow with active co-operation and vivid pleasure each tone and phrase of the music, for itself alone?
One thing is sure: Unless we can do so, we shall miss the keenest enjoyment that music has to offer. For this enjoyment is not passive, but active. It is not enough to place ourselves in a room where music is going on; we must by concentrated attention; absorb and mentally digest it. Without the help of the alert mind, the ear can no more hear than the eye can see. Sir Isaac Newton, asked how he had made his wonderful discoveries, answered, "By intending my mind." In no other way can the lover of music penetrate its mysteries.
Knowledge of musical technicalities, on the other hand, is not necessary to appreciation, any more than knowledge of the nature of pigments or the laws of perspective is necessary to the appreciation of a picture. Such technical knowledge we may dispense with, if only we are willing to work for our musical pleasure by giving active attention, and if we have some guidance as to what to listen for among so many and such at first confusing impressions. Such guidance to awakened attention, such untechnical direction what to listen for, it is the object of this book to give.