iration, joy and sadness,
according to the nature of the music and the hearer's mood. Some even
take pleasure in formulating into words the sensations evoked by the ebb
and flow of the tonal waves, and fancy they are thus deriving
intellectual profit from music.
From both ways of listening helpful results may accrue, but by no means
the greatest. Music is far beyond words, and in attempting to translate
it into these we miss its musical meaning, the best that is in it. As
listeners we derive our highest aesthetic and intellectual satisfaction
from the ability to follow, even anticipate, the composer's intention,
now finding our expectations fulfilled, now being agreeably
disappointed. Failure to catch the opening phrase and preliminary
rhythms of the composition makes it impossible to appreciate the tonal
forms into which they develop. Nor may the mind linger over any one
part, if we would grasp the work as an unbroken whole. That musical
creation alone can afford the noblest delights that prompts and rewards
the act of thus closely following the composer's thought.
An instance of absolute knowledge of music appears in an anecdote told
of Johann Sebastian Bach. When he was present at the performance of a
fugue and one of his two most musical sons was with him, he would, as
soon as the theme was heard, whisper what devices and developments he
thought should be introduced. If the composer had conformed to his idea
of construction he would jog his son to call attention to the fact.
Otherwise, his exceeding modesty and reverent comprehension of the
difficulties of the art made him the most lenient of critics.
Few have reached the luminous heights this master of masters trod. Even
a well-cultivated ear and taste may often be baffled by the intricacies
of a fugue, symphony or other great work of musical art heard for the
first time. The best listener beyond the pale of genius will at times
feel as one astray in a labyrinth of beauty to which for the moment no
clue appears. A single representation will rarely suffice to reveal the
full worth of a masterpiece of music. By hearing it often, by admitting
it, or some reproduction of it, to our own fireside, we will become
familiar with its contents and learn truly to know it.
Those who are fortunate enough to have been surrounded from childhood up
by the choicest gems of the tonal language, and whose minds are of the
deceptive order, will insensibly attain a refinement of t
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