But I am reaching the limit of the space allowed for this article and fear my chat has been on "kindred topics" rather than on the alleged main theme of interpretation. But surely none of my readers expected me to answer the question "How to Interpret"? If so, I should be as truly sorry for having disappointed them as I was some years ago to have been obliged to disillusion the organist of the little Parish Church of Alvie. I don't mean myself, for I only officiated there in that capacity during the summer months, when I was at home. I mean the regular, appointed, salaried, real organist. She was a young girl of sixteen, a native of the parish, who, fond of music, like all Scots people, could strum two or three tunes on the piano, and to whom I had given a few lessons in the managing of the American organ in the church. At the request of my old friend, the Rev. James Anderson, our late and much lamented minister, I had introduced the playing of a voluntary during collection, always, of course, improvising on the Psalm or hymn tunes of the day's service, or on whatever came into my head. Well, a week after I had left Alvie for London, the first year of that innovation, I received a letter from the young lady, consisting of the following five lines: "Dear Mr. Henschel—Mr. Anderson wishes me to play voluntaries during collection, just as you did. Would you please let me know how you do it?"
I was touched by so much faith and innocence. The playing of an instrument—and singing, as such, is but playing on the vocal instrument in our throats—may be taught and, with patience and perseverance, brought to as near a degree of perfection as humanly possible; that is a matter of craft, of physical, I may say muscular, skill. The mystery of what is best, imperishable in any art, lies in the soul and in the brain. If dormant, it may be awakened and fostered; if absent, it cannot be acquired by teaching. Interpretation, though but recreative, certainly is an art, or at least part of one. And art is long and life is short, and of learning there is no end.
To have a chance of becoming an artist in the true sense of the word, the student, fortunate in the possession of the heavenly gift of talent, should from the outset resolve to strive for none but the highest ideals, refuse to be satisfied, both in taking and giving, with anything but the best and purest, and last, though by no means least, resist the temptations which the prospect of popularity and its worldly advantages, frequently the result of lowering that high standard, may place in his way.
ROBERT BRIDGES'S LYRICAL POEMS[41]
[41] October and Other Poems. By Robert Bridges. Heinemann. 1920. 5s. net. Poetical Works, Excluding the Eight Dramas. By Robert Bridges. 1912. Oxford University Press. For other works see "Bibliography" in current issue.
By J. C. SQUIRE