Like every branch of school education, the teaching of the pianoforte requires consideration from two simultaneous points of view. Two all-important questions have to be answered with clearness and decision. What is, or what ought to be, the definite aim of the teacher? And what is the most efficacious process for achieving this aim?
As to the aim and purpose, we may happily dismiss, once and for all, the old and imbecile notion of the piano as a conventional “accomplishment”; in more accurate language an instrument of unintelligent and repulsive mechanical drudgery, calculated to eradicate from the pupil whatever modicum of music Nature might have bestowed on her. The cultivation of the piano for the sake of vain display is not yet obsolete. But though this unacknowledged object must inevitably continue to actuate many pupils and many parents, the teacher, so far from indulging it, should set his face sternly against it. It is true that it is his business to develop his pupils’ performing powers to the utmost of their varying capacities. But this practical and visible result is but subordinate and auxiliary to one which is infinitely higher. Not every pupil, however musically gifted, has it in her to become a fine executant, any more than fine execution implies, of itself, much beyond mere manual dexterity. But what the properly qualified teacher can do for all is to educate—that is to say to draw out—all that Nature has put into them: to show them what music means: to quicken and develop their musical feeling, be it much or little, by rendering it intelligent: to give their taste a foundation of right principle: to cultivate the ear and the brain as well as the hand: to put them in the right road for pursuing and perhaps specialising their studies after their school course is over: in short, to make them musicians, so far as musicians can be made.
The study of the pianoforte, then, is an indispensable means to a very large and serious end. There is no occasion to dwell upon the peculiar suitability of the piano as the basis of musical study. As to that, there are not, and cannot be, two opinions, even if universal experience had not settled the matter. Nor is it needful to dwell upon the qualifications to be required in a teacher. Every one knows the requisite qualifications of all teachers of all subjects. But it so happens that the teacher of the pianoforte, in any school where much is—as it ought to be—expected, has to contend with a peculiarly formidable list of preliminary difficulties, and to dispose of these before he can proceed to build upon a properly prepared ground. With these two topics, the preparatory and constructive portions of his duty to his pupils, to himself, and to his art, I will proceed to deal in as few words as the nature of so large a subject allows. And first, as to the commonest of all his obstacles, which is—
Previous Home Teaching (so-called).—Music, even more than with most other branches of education, should begin with careful, intelligent and systematic instruction at home. Yet how seldom does the teacher find this to be the case! A truly appalling ignorance of the merest rudiments is constantly found in girls of all ages on first coming to school, after six or seven years of “lessons from a master” or “from a lady”. In exceedingly few instances has any attempt been made to awaken a love of music, much less to lay a foundation for its serious study. Parents, one must presume, have not yet outgrown the delusion that anybody is good enough to start a child’s musical education; whereas it is precisely during the period preceding school life that instruction generally produces the most lasting results for good or for evil; and it is usually for evil. It may be that a certain—or uncertain—amount of mechanical fluency has been acquired, but to the total exclusion of all else; and this leads to a further grave difficulty for both teacher and pupil—
Insufficient Time.—There would be amply adequate time for musical progress at school if the ordinary pupil had not so much to unlearn. As things are, the inevitable strain upon a girl imposed by other studies renders the comparatively short time allotted to music a period of weariness of mind. The pupil, naturally enough, rebels against the severity of a proper course of study; and it is long before the most patient teacher can get his impatient pupil well in hand. He is thus sorely tempted to make a—
Compromise with Conscience.—This is not stating the matter a whit too strongly. Handicapped by wrong preliminary training and its consequences, the teacher, in order to render some result visible to parents and school authorities, often sacrifices substantial education to superficial display. How absolutely wrong this is, requires—it is to be hoped—no argument. But, inexcusable as it is on every principle of educational ethics, it is bound to be of constant occurrence wherever the school authorities fail to understand a music master’s duty, and to support him in doing it fearlessly and honestly, without respect to the ignorant impatience of parents or pupils who have not laid to heart the maxim of sat cito si sat bene.
In proceeding to the positive work of teaching, as distinguished from the preliminary task of un-teaching, it will be the simplest course to dismiss these only too formidable obstacles as non-existent or overcome, and to consider at what a teacher should aim who enjoys all the advantages that he can reasonably expect. Under the most disadvantageous conditions he can at any rate aim as high as circumstances allow. Let us suppose, then, that he has the inestimable advantage of a pupil who is a complete beginner, with everything to learn and nothing to unlearn. At the very outset—
A Feeling for Well-marked Rhythm should receive cultivation. This is perhaps most easily acquired where a kindergarten has been available, by marching round to strongly-marked tunes or even to the beat of a drum. This feeling—more or less instinctive with most, and seldom beyond acquisition by any—should, as soon as possible, be reduced to form and order by—
A Knowledge of Time System and the Key-board: that is to say, a thorough acquaintance with the notes on the key-board, so that they may be readily recognised by their shape, together with their equivalent rests and other signs belonging to the time system. All this should become instinctively familiar; and is followed in natural sequence by—
A Knowledge of the Scale System.—The beginner should be able to locate the several scales on the instrument and to understand their formation. But time ought not to be wasted by insisting too much upon scale practice, until the pupil’s hands are sufficiently strong. It will be quite sufficient, at this period of a course, to gain a thorough knowledge of the notes and fingering of the various scales and chords, great care being taken at the same time to cultivate a good position of hand and a proper use of the fingers themselves, by way of foundation for a good and sound technique. In the case of older and more advanced pupils who have been neglected in this direction, it should be constantly impressed upon their minds that this process is but a means to an end; that adequate interpretation of music is impossible without this mechanical exercise of the fingers, which must be trained to follow and express the most delicate nuance of their owner’s intention. On the other hand, such pupils—especially those gifted with a natural dexterity—should be warned that manual skill has nothing, as such, to do with music: that brilliant execution and the triumph over difficulties are neither more useful nor more admirable than dancing among eggs unless they are subordinate to the real sense and meaning of a composition. Having fairly mastered the notes, time and scale systems, the pupil is now in a position to be introduced to—