Remarkably devoid of euphony are the compositions of some musicians who, having taken Beethoven's last works as the chief models for their aspirations, have thereby been prevented from properly cultivating whatever gift they may naturally possess for expressing their ideas melodiously and clearly. Moreover, they talk and act as if affected originality, or far-fetched fancies, constituted the principal charm of a composition. Not less tedious are the works of some modern composers who possess no originality, but who write very correctly in the style of some classical composer. There has been published a vast amount of such stale and unprofitable productions. Music, to be interesting, must possess some quality in a high degree. If it is very good, it is just what it ought to be; if it is very bad, one can honestly condemn it, and leave it to its fate. But music which is neither very good nor very bad—which deserves neither praise nor blame, and which one cannot easily ignore because it is well meant—this is the most wearisome. And often how long such productions are! The composers show with many notes that they have felt but little, while our great composers show with but few notes that they have felt much.
An inferior composer has, however, not unfrequently a better chance of becoming soon popular than a superior one. The latter is likely to be properly appreciated only by a few unbiassed judges—at least during his earlier career—while the former may possess qualities which at once please the uncultivated taste, and the voice of the unrefined majority may silence the voice of the few whose opinion is correct. If you become acquainted with a celebrated musician, you will perhaps find that he is not so talented as you expected; and if you become acquainted with a musician of no reputation, you will perhaps find that he is much more talented than you expected. Diffidence is apt to be mistaken for want of ability. Even some of our deepest thinkers, on acknowledging that they did not understand a certain subject, have been set down by ignorant people as dunces.
Composers who have made good studies sometimes write ingenious contrivances or "learned music," instead of inventing a beautiful melody. They are apt to introduce fugues into their works when they are short of ideas or at a loss how to proceed. Even our great composers have done this occasionally, when their power of invention began to flag. But they were careful, when resorting to mere head-work, to use it only in places most appropriate; and they generally succeeded in imparting to it some musical charm.
Always striving to attain a higher degree of perfection, they were in fact students all their lifetime. The more they learnt, the clearer they saw that they had much to learn, and that time was precious to them. Beethoven on his death-bed was studying the scores of Handel's oratorios, and Mozart to the end of his life investigated the intricate works of Johann Sebastian Bach.
Many examples from different composers might have been cited in support of the opinions advanced in this essay. But, not to lengthen it unnecessarily, only a few examples, referring to such of our composers as are universally acknowledged to be truly great, have been selected. No doubt many more will occur to the reflecting reader, if he is familiar with our classical compositions.