hese MAY be compositions of
artistic worth, in which case financial gain and true musical interest
consort together: but on the other hand they may NOT. Which, then, is to
receive the first consideration? Is the artist to refuse the guineas
because the ballad possesses no intrinsic worth, or is he to pocket the
cash and deck out with all the devices of his Art the twopenny-ha'penny
shop-tune, and make it sound something like the real thing? No doubt
under these circumstances the song may achieve a certain measure of
appreciation. Some of the audience will buy it, and only when they come
to try it at home will they realise what feeble stuff it truly is. The
artist has been paid to betray those who trusted in him and followed his
taste. In this he may have been eminently successful, but what is the
value of such success? And what of Art--and Music?

Wherein is the particular glory of a top note, or the specific value of
a compass that extends a note-and-a-half beyond that of anyone else? Why
should it be considered meritorious to be able to bang louder or to
scramble more quickly over the keys than one's competitors? Yet we have
certainly met singers and players who gloried in such accomplishments. A
performer may also know every device and trick of the trade, he may be
well aware of what will go down with his audience, he may play up to all
their little foibles and weaknesses and give them exactly what they
want: we can indeed scarcely quarrel with this. But so many are
apparently content to allow the matter to remain on this lowly level. A
singer who is thus able to play upon his audience and hold them in his
grip can surely also lead them up to the appreciation of better things.

An audience is normally receptive and impressionable, they come
expecting to receive satisfaction and enjoyment for the money they have
expended in the purchase of a ticket, or because they have some other
interest in the proceedings. Presumably if they were not interested they
would not be there. This element of expectation stimulates their
receptivity, and aids the performer in his work of giving out. Whatever
the audience receives, by the mere fact of its making some impression on
the delicate nerve-stuff of the brain, is retained and becomes actually
a part of them. Thus the artist is definitely building the minds of his
audience: he is forming their taste, and giving them that material in
mind which will enable them to enjoy and understan