25 JANUARY 1902, Page 34

ZUSIC AND GENERAL EDUCATION.

THE progress of civilisation and the spread of education have undoubtedly tended to the elimination of the illiterate, or at least the non-lettered, musician. Yet before the nineteenth century there were few, if any, instances of composers of wide intellectual culture,—of what is called good " general educa- tion." But in the century that has just closed the most re- markable personalities have been, almost without exception, men of varied accomplishments, wide reading, and considerable literary ability. Mendelssohn was an Admirable Crichton who did everything well ; Schumann and Berlioz were accomplished professional critics ; Liszt wrote with fluency and eloquence; von Billow was deeply versed in philosophy, a wit, and a master of the epistolary style; is it necessary to say anything about Wagner,—pamphleteer, essayist, dramatist, poet ? And so, too, with modern composers. The younger Russian masters in nearly every case seem to have started on some entirely dif- ferent tack—Rimsky.Korsakoff was actually a sailor—science, or engineering, or law, and in more than one instance to have combined musical composition with the pursuit of another calling. The most distinguished French composer of the day, again, M. Saint-Satins, is another universal genius ; and without mentioning the names of native musicians, it may suffice to say that in regard to this manysidedness the most representative British composers compare favourably with their Continental compeers. Yet there are notable exceptions, the most notable of all being Dvorak, who represents the artless, non-lettered musician in as ex- treme a form as Saint-Satins or Bono does the highly cultured literary type. These two divisions have always existed, and, allowing for the modifications caused by the altered conditions of modern life, will continue to exist. That is to say, there will always be, on the one hand, musicians of a specialised order of intellect, and on the other, musicians who attach themselves to life through a variety of interests. Both have the defects of their qualities. The " all-round," highly cultivated musician tends towards eclecticism, and runs the risk of merging his individuality in that of others. On the other hand, the self-centred artist, obsessed with the paramount importance of preserving his individuality unimpaired, foregoes contact with others that may be fruitful and stimu- lating, misinterprets angularity as originality, and fails to consult the legitimate susceptibilities of his public. But, again, if he has the root of the matter in him, this lack of versatility is largely compensated by the greater concentra- tion and driving power gained from the undistracted alle- giance to a single cause.

Closely allied with this antagonism of concentration and versatility is that between the self-taught and the school- taught artist. Beyond a doubt, several of the greatest geniuses in music have owed little directly to the schools. One readily admits that outstanding originality does not easily lend itself to the discipline of the class-room, or conform to the exigencies of the time-table. Yet we know that Schubert, certainly one of the most astounding examples of largely self-taught genius, was so conscious of the imper- fections of his technical training that he meditated taking lessons in counterpoint shortly before his death. Verdi again, who was actually refused admittance to the Con- servatoire at Milan, so far from adopting an attitude of

hostility towards school teaching, expressed himself strongly in his old age as to the importance of carefully supervised study especially of the works of the old masters. Torniamo all' antico was his watchword, — "therein lies the true progress." Few musicians can dispense in the opening stage of their careers with all guidance ; and several of the greatest have in their " early manner " played the " sedulous ape," as Stevenson puts it, steeping themselves in the scores of their illustrious forerunners,—Beethoven in Haydn and Mozart

Wagner in Beethoven, Weber, and even Bellini ; Brahma in Beethoven, Bach, and Schubert. But inasmuch as it is pos- sible to be a conscientious student without being an assiduous pupil, the self-sufficing attitude of genius is often erected into a precedent unsuitable for mere talent. Genius is, and always has been, a law unto itself ; or, to put it in another way, some of the greatest musicians have either been

virtually self-taught or have dispensed with regular school training, or, as in the case of Wagner, Berlioz, and von Billow, have been in abrupt conflict with the official or

accredited representatives of the art,—intendants and Minia- ters of the Fine Arts, heads of conservatoires, kapellmeisters

and ultra-conservative critics. These facts, which may be summed up in the dictum de maainiis non valet regular are probably accountable for a good deal of the musical criticism latterly in vogue. The guiding principles of this criticism seem to be : " Wherever you see an [academic] head, hit it. Attack established reputations, oratorios, and all sacred music later than Bach." It is no use belabouring the ancients,

because the assailant is deprived of the satisfaction of know- ing that his onslaughts cause personal annoyance, Living composers are the best targets, and next to them those who are held in reverence by the majority. It must be admitted that this method of procedure has considerable advantages. Truculence often wears the guise of courage and sincerity, and abuse is generally readable, or at least is more likely to attract attention. One is reminded of the old Scotch lady's defence of the habit of swearing, that, though worthy of reprobation, it was a " great set-off to conversation." And so, just as in fiction and in the drama it is far easier to render villainy interesting than to redeem solid worth from insipidity, so in musical criticism acrimony is, for a while at any rate, a much more effective weapon than urbanity. But the method has its dangers as well as its seeming advantages. You cannot live on universal abuse of the living, and Bludyer is no more likely to escape the error of regarding geese as swans than the bland critic who eternally ladles out the pap of praise. It is, no doubt, flattering to be invited to join a clique of elect intelligences who at every turn flout the opinion of the majority and deride the prudery of Mrs. Grundy. But an unlimited diet of cayenne pepper is not exactly nutritious, and there are moments when the normally constituted individual is fain to admit that Mendelssohn was not altogether an impostor, or Brahma a machine ; that even Meyerbeer had endurable moments; that Saint-Sans can be listened to without loss of self-respect—it is really curious how closely Anti-Semitism is bound up with a good deal of musical criticism—and, lastly, that it is permissible to write an opera in which the central figure shall not be somebody like Gilles de Retz or Judas Iscariot.

The crusade against academicism, so long as it attacks Beckmessers, mock-doctors, and hide-bound pedantry gener- ally, admits not merely of excuse, but of vindication. It is another matter when it degenerates into a wholesale blud- geoning of all systematised or supervised study. And as regards general education, so long as a musician does not "spread himself " too much, there can be little doubt that a wide range of interests adds to the humanity and breadth of his compositions or interpretations. In this the two great masters of the last half of the nineteenth century are fruitful exemplars,—Wagner, whose music-drama was a sort of microcosm of art and philosophy, and Brahma, who, though he devoted himself with singular concentration to the pursuit of his calling, was an appreciative student of the masterpieces of European literature. There are certain departments of musical composition—abstract or absolute music, to be precise —in which the absence of general culture does not make itself so conspicuously felt. But directly a composer begins to set words to music, whether it be a song or an opera, unless he be gifted with the divine intuition of a Schubert, he is seriously handicapped by the lack of an educated taste founded on a wide and well-directed study of literature.

C. L. G.