NE of the most curious things in practical educational literature is the rarity of allusions to music, beyond the passing mention of singing, as a necessary part of the school-curriculum. A few sentences at most are given to the subject; except by Prof. Bain, who, in his "Education as a Science," devotes a page and a half to it. The summary of his

opinion is remarkable. He says: "Except the value of music as a substantive contribution to the enjoyment of life, I am not able to affirm that it has any influence on education, whether moral or intellectual. Certainly, if it has any effect in the moral sphere, it has none that I can trace in the sphere of intellect."

For an equally full and decided utterance about music in education we have to go back to Plato, and it is interesting to compare the two opinions. Plato did not claim that singing by ear-or, as he expresses it, "by habit, imparting no science" -had any value as an intellectual discipline; and probably musical science in his day was too elementary, compared with the other sciences which he recommended for mental training, to be classed with them. But of simple emotional music, as he would have it taught, he speaks very decidedly as acting very strongly in the moral sphere. "Rhythm and harmony enter, in the strongest manner, into the inward part of the soul, and powerfully affect it." Again: "The movement of sound, so as to reach the soul for the education of it in virtue, we know not how, we call music." There is thus a considerable difference between these two educators as to the moral value of music; yet they are quite reconcilable from their different standpoints. For was not Plato contemplating the effect

which music ought to have-must have-under the severe conditions and restrictions which he would impose; while Bain, living in an age in which music has attained perhaps its highest perfection-certainly its widest freedom-looks out upon the lives of men and women, and asks, "What are these the better because of their concerts and their operas, and the time and money spent upon their music lessons?"

The youth of Plato's ideal city would hear nothing but the best words, illustrated by the best music; and the best music, according to him, could be produced only by a highly moral soul. "For," says he, "the rhythm and harmony or melody are to be subservient to the words," and "the manner of expression corresponds to the character of the soul." He would not only "give injunction to the poets and oblige them to work into their poems the image of the worthy manners, or not compose at all," but he would also lay a like injunction on the musician. Still further, he would eliminate from melody those elements which were supposed to excite the lower emotions, and confine it to those which appealed only to the higher; and, that composers might be compelled to adhere to these conditions, he would allow only certain kinds of instruments to be used, and would even limit the possibilities of these. What would Plato have considered the moral effect of a Wagner orchestra?

Now, these very restrictions and. conditions, impossible though they be, are just the part of Plato's "Republic" which has a distinct message for us. For, though we could not if we would, and would not if we could, put fetters upon art and prevent its full and free development, we can

find and must choose carefully the music which we use in education. In the "Republic" the music of education was to be song. If the artist in Plato had any sympathy with instrumental music, the philosopher in him was suspicious of it.

About the words we need say little. We all recognize that they should be simple in form, and bring to the child's mind images of what is good and true. They should also be an expression of what is best in the child's own nature; the instinctive motherliness of the girl, the strength and action which are the boy's ideal. Nor should we neglect the warning of our modern Plato, dreaming of an ideal England and the uses of music for her children. "They shall never," says Ruskin, "be taught to sing what they don't mean." If subjective poetry is used at all, it must be very carefully chosen. To teach a boy to sing "I long to be an angel and with the angels stand" is to set him on the road to being either a prig or a liar-probably both-for he distinctly does not long for any such thing. "I'm a little pilgrim" is a

little out of tune with a child's sense of joy in living; but, on the other hand, "I'm a little soldier" may help has helped-quite a young child to fight his little battle with a naughty temper or the temptation to disobey, and given him his first conscious victory over self.

The first requisite of the music is that it should express the meaning of the words. "Surely," says Plato, "the melody and the rhythm ought to correspond to the words." Here lies the danger of adaptations. Teachers are always on the lookout for suitable verses for their children, and, having found them, they ransack their own and their friends' portfolios in search of tunes to fit them. The "fitting" generally consists in finding tunes of approximately suitable metre, the character of the

melodic form being left out of consideration altogether, and the results of these mixed marriages are sometimes very disastrous. If the purpose of the music is to reenforce the meaning of the words, then the words. must first have sunk into the musician's soul and there found for themselves a fitting garment of expression. This applies to the simplest kindergarten poem as much as to the libretto of an oratorio. The best children's song will probably be that of which words and music are written by the same person-that person a child-lover as well as a musician, and one who feels the importance of simplicity of form. Such a combination, however, is rare.

And here a word about the difference between songs that we may sing to children and songs to be sung by them. Many so-called children's songs are utterly unsuitable for children to sing, mainly because they do not fulfil the conditions just mentioned. When we sing to children we need not be hampered by any such conditions. If the words appeal to a child, we may employ all our musical resources in giving full expression to them, and the cleverest music of this kind will be fully appreciated by a child-audience.

We might do much more than we do in this matter of singing and playing to children. If the ethical value of music in song is that it accentuates feeling, and if the music that children can themselves sing is necessarily so limited in the material of expres sion, it follows that the child loses something by this necessary limitation-loses some possibilities of development, ethically and æsthetically. We are not satisfied that the child's only acquaintance with art shall be his own crude attempts at drawing. We show him pictures-good pictures -not only for the lessons they may have to teach, but because real art will have its influence upon his own

little efforts at self-expression. Might it not be an interesting experiment to introduce an occasional song by the teacher alone? There is no difficulty in finding material.

There are many charming German Kinder Lieder which for this purpose would be admirable, though for children's singing they are a delusion and a snare. There are also a few French songs of the same kind. A large repertoire is not necessary, for when children like a song they want to hear it over and over again, as they want to hear their favorite stories. The experiment should be tried; but it must be good singing, good playing, or we miss the point. Also, the listening must not be a substitute for the children's own singing. If listening does not make them want to sing themselves, we miss the point, too.

But the imita

tive instinct, the instinct that embodies itself in the familiar, "Now let me do it," is so strong in children that there is little danger in the experiment.

It is a mistake to suppose that every bit of good verse you find must needs be sung. Much of it would have far more ethical force if simply recited by the teacher, with the natural inflections of real feeling, not the artificial inflections of the elocutionist, and memorized by the children while that feeling is still fresh. There is verse that is not fully felt until it is sung, and there is verse which no more needs the aid of music than a beautiful marble needs color. The judgment which decides whether poetry is what we call "vocal" or not is an instinct of the musician, and those who do not possess it are apt to make mistakes.

The next necessity of school-music is that it shall be simple. What does Plato mean by proposing that only "instruments with few strings" shall be used-instruments incapable of producing a great variety of

sounds?

In our modern musical phraseology we would express his meaning by saying: "Avoid chromatic tunes." Let children's songs

set to simple, straightforward diatonic melodies, lying easily within the compass of their voices. Further, when writing for very little children, large intervals should be avoided, the melodies to their first songs being "step-wise," or very nearly so. Simple rhythms, too, should be used, fitting one note to a syllable as far as possible.

And now to digress a little, and consider the attitude of educationists generally toward music. In books upon pedagogics, what allusions do' we find to music as a factor in general education? Most writers make singing an essential factor, on the ground that it is a healthful physical exercise and a vehicle-allied to words-for moral teaching. Never, except by Sully, is music mentioned as a possible aid to intellectual development, but rather as a relief from mental work. However these writers may differ from one another on some points, there is one point on which they seem pretty well agreed, and that is in ignoring music except in the shape of the school-song; and if they were to discuss music at all, their opinion would probably be something akin to that honestly expressed by Bain, that it may have some effect in the moral sphere, but none that I can trace in the intellect."

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Most people, even if not musicians, have had "music lessons" in their youth, but never having penetrated the prickly hedge of notation, and discovered how to exercise their minds upon the thing, music, which is so effectually hidden from them, the possibility of such mental exercise does not occur to them. They are driven back, as it were, to the emotional side of music, and forget, or honestly can not see, that it has another side worth the trouble of cultivation.

Thus considered, the attitude of the educationist toward music is quite comprehensible and quite natural. If music does not act on the intelligence, its ethical value is very doubtful. Even Plato, who would have us teach song "by habit only, imparting no science," does not contend that music so taught can by itself moralize anybody; for, though he says, "Rhythm and harmony enter in the strongest manner into the soul and powerfully affect it," he adds, "making everyone upright if he is properly educated, and the reverse if he is not; " contemplating the possibility, at least, of its 'exercising an adverse influence in adult life, or when the restrictions of the educational machinery should be removed. "Music accentuates feeling." True; but it accentuates all sorts of feelings-the lower as well as the higher. Revenge is musically illustrated as well as love; the fever of passion as well as the fire of patriotism. Art gives back to us only the feelings that we bring to it, but these reenforced tenfold. Therefore,

be a gradual growth-a part of the whole intellectual development, and proceeding in just the same way. If the musician can show the educationist that by his teaching he secures this kind of mental activity, and gives to the mind an insight that it otherwise would lack—a “discipline,” to use Plato's term-that will strengthen it on a side where in after life it will need strength to counteract the growing emotionalism of modern music-then he has a strong claim for the intellectual side of music in the school-curriculum, and the educationist will be most ready to acknowledge it. If he can not, he has no such claim, and music must continue to be looked upon simply as sauce to the morality of the school-song.

IT

the musical qualifications of the vocal teacher, or to say that a knowledge of the vocal mechanism and of tone-formation is necessary, as these requirements must be presupposed at the outset as a conditio sine qua non; but we have a right to consider the general intelligence and culture of the one who seeks to guide the ambitious young vocal student and advancing artist in his musical and intellectual development. Above all things, we have the right to demand of the teacher in a superlative degree those accom

plishments of mind and disposition which combine to form an indispensable part of the pupil's educational dower, and include a liberal education, both literary and scientific, a well-trained will-power, keen insight, and, finally, a burning enthusiasm for all forms of beauty and nobility. How can a teacher of singing exert an ennobling influence upon the inner life and disposition of the pupil of his own nature if not pervaded by depth of feeling and an exalted sense of truth and moral rectitude? How can he impart the true spirit of such vocal compositions

as those of Gluck or Spontini without an understanding of antiquity? How will it be possible for him to teach even the verbal delivery of the wonderful recitatives in "Don Giovanni" without a perception of the laws of metre and prosody? How can he venture to teach the Italian operatic music in the original text with only a meagre and uncertain. idea of the Italian accent? How can the teacher convey an idea of the varied tone-colorings expressing the diverse feelings of love and hate, joy and pain, contempt and sympathy, etc., if his mind has not learned to understand different characters through the study of history, and his soul to comprehend the inmost feelings of the human heart through familiarity with the great poets? Finally, to quote Zellner, "how could he conjure up that poetic spirit which invests every artistic performance with a final consecration, the halo of ideality, that deep glow of feeling contained in the poetic material of a musical artwork," if he is not himself inspired with high enthusiasm for the truly beautiful?

We earnestly seek the best possible instructors in other departments of education. Shall we be less critical in regard to the teacher of singing? Can it be expected of one who is only a craftsman in his art, and who pursues it merely as business, and regards it as the udder which furnishes him copious nourishment, that he shall educate artists ? Certainly not! Such a teacher would but too often have occasion to blush on account of his deficient culture were he to have pupils who had enjoyed the influence of cultured parents, instead of seeing himself regarded with reverence and esteem.

He would cool and paralyze the ardent enthusiasm of his pupil, instead of developing his heaven-born gifts, and guiding and stimulating his sense of beauty. It is clear that such a teacher would be an impossibility for the gifted and educated pupil. The pupil who through untoward circumstances has been unable to cultivate his mind and devote himself to the study of the fine arts especially needs an excellent teacher, whose endeavor it will be to supplement and furnish, from the wellspring of his knowledge, what is lacking, and thus promote the pupil's mental development and compensate for the deficiencies which would inevitably hinder his success in the intellectual and ideal path of art-a teacher who will not deem it sufficient to insist upon industrious vocal study alone, but who will urge the necessity of literary and linguistic attainments, and by his counsel and influence do everything possible to atone for previous neglect. Were the teacher upon the same plane of intelligence and culture as a pupil who had enjoyed so few opportunities, how could he elevate and lead him to something better if, indeed, such an idea should occur to him?

Let a careful choice, then, be made of a singing-teacher to whom the entire education, not merely the superficial training of the talented pupil, may be intrusted. It would be well to ascertain whether the teacher possesses the qualities calculated to exert an ennobling influence upon the mind and nature of the pupil; then a complete artistic interpretation will be favorably promoted and developed, as far as this is possible through the aid of any teacher.