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criticism in Europe and the country. Ed-
ward Baughan considers Tolstoi's book a
strange medley of keen artistic insight
and cramping fads. It is with the conclu-
sions, prompted by his exaggerated social-
istic views, that one must emphatically
disagree. To prove his case he divides the
world into only two classes—the upper and
.the lower. Certainly many of the mon-
strous perversities of modern art would
never have come into being if there were
no rich classes with nothing to do, and
tired of doing it; but it is equally certain
there would never have been any art at all
in the past but for them. Taking Tolstoi's
definition that art must express a percep-
tion of the meaning of life as true, why
does it follow that we who are cultivated
must have that perception transmitted to
us in, terms that are intelligible to the
peasant ? And why should there not be
arts which, as painting and music in their
highest forms, appeal to a limited class ?
Are the souls and minds of the limited class
of no account ? False sentiment and arti-
ficial thought we all should condemn in
art, but when a work, such as Beethoven's
" Ninth," is spurned because it would not
be intelligible to the mass of people in the
world, the bed-rock of logical absurdity is
reached.
Exactly, and is the literature of
Tolstoi not art because it is not under-
standed of the moujik ? Tolstoi's objection
to the art of our day seems to be that it
does not make for progress, or in other
words does not appeal to the uncultivated
—how can it ?—that it is, in fact, art for
the indolent rich, an art at once anti-
Christian, anti-democratic and anti-human-
itarian. One cannot but feel admiration
for Tolstoi's ideals, but his impeachment
of modern art cannot, so far as we can see,
assist the cause of humanity in the least.
If it be indeed better to be unlettered, and
oblivious to everything but the demands
of an animal existence, art is of no account
whatever. But we cannot all of us accept
such views, and accordingly cannot abjure
the very real delights which music pos-
sesses for us and those who, like us, are
falsely cultured.
*
HP HE agitation anent the municipal
*
opera scheme in London has been
prolific of many arguments showing the
wisdom of this move, which apply with
singular pertinence to this country. Opera
endowed by the state or municipality may
be, in the opinion of some, a feature of the
millenium; nevertheless progress along
these lines is to be recorded. The mayor
of Boston's work in this direction is to be
highly commended. His efforts to bring
good music closer to the masses of the
people are worthy of the highest praise.
Writing of the municipal scheme in Lon-
don, Frank Merry pertinently asks: And
why have we not a state-aided opera, as
Paris has, or opera houses patronized (in
the true sense of the word) by the nobility
as small German states have ? For
although to the English musician state-
aided performances savor of the millen-
ium, there is nothing in the nature of
musical art to make it less suitable for
THE MUSIC TRADE REVIEW
state aid than literature or painting.
Moreover, state aid for art is not some-
thing utterly foreign to this country, like
anarchist bombs, bull-fights and lager
beer. We have our subsidized national
galleries, our libraries and our good poet
laureate as part of our constitutional
rights.
Musical performances have not
been endowed—and why? Because there
has been in the past no particular demand
for music that might not be satisfied by
the ordinary methods. People's needs in
this direction were simple, and individuals
were equal to the supplying of them.
That is now no longer the case.
The
average man finds that the perfect hearing
of opera performance is almost as impossi-
ble as the possessing of half a dozen first-
class canvases to adorn his rooms. Music
has taken larger forms, and our people are
becoming definitely interested in these
forms. Therefore the methods that have
brought painting and literature within the
reach of the average householder must be
used in order to give him the opportunity
of hearing the best music.
*
TTANS RICHTER, the great operatic
* * conductor, has accepted an offer to
conduct the Manchester (Eng.) concerts at
a salary of $7,500 for six months.
*
/"~\F pianofortes "the visible stock," as
^ - ^ they say in the metal market, is
enormous. And it is a stock to which huge
additions are weekly, daily, hourly made.
Each of these instruments, we may take it,
is played on by an average of at least two
persons, and the resulting total of players
would, consequently, if accurately com-
puted, reach a surprising figure. Now, of
all this army of pianists how many are there
who can acquit themselves tolerably in
song accompaniment ? Would not the per-
centage be represented by a decimal point
followed by several noughts before a sig-
nificant digit is reached ? If we demand
an accompaniment to an instrumental solo,
the percentage will be even smaller, whilst,
if we ask for an adequate treatment of the
pianoforte part in a chamber-music com-
position, the number will be not beauti-
fully, but hatefully, less. Why should this
be ? There are plenty of pianists who
have a sufficient technical equipment.
It seems that in the case of these per-
sons the failure to play an accompaniment
decently arises from an inartistic lack of
appreciation of the fitness of things, or from
want of thought, or from sheer ignorance,
or from want of practice or from a com-
bination of all or any of these things. As
to the first, it should not be necessary at
this end of the century to point out that an
accompaniment means an accompaniment,
—that is, the accompaniment should
always be subordinate to the solo. To too
many pianists the accompaniment is appa-
rently the important part of the compo-
sition. Far be it from them to consider the
composer's intentions, to reflect that the
accompaniment is but the background—
beautiful though it may be even in itself—
to a central figure—the solo. No, the ac-
companiment shall be background, middle
distance—aye, and foreground, too—and
heaven help the solo!
Again, the lamentable failure to accom-
pany may be due simply to want of
thought.
It is easy to forget that the
pianoforte is a very powerful instrument,
and an otherwise most artistic player may,
from sheer forgetfulness of this fact,
utterly spoil the singer's or violinist's
best effects. Ignorance of the capabilities
of the particular voice or instrument to be
accompanied is also responsible for much.
One need not be a great musician to realize
that a pianist should, when dealing with a
delicate and florid violin passage, show
sustained notes of the violoncello.
The value of practice in accompaniment,
as in other matters, is so obvious as to need
no special arguments in its favor.
In fact, a pianist of moderate ability can
hardly lay up for himself and for others a
store of greater pleasure than by making a
special study of the art of accompaniment.
*
p O S E N T H A L ' S extraordinary _ rapidity
*• ^ of execution on the piano has been
repeatedly commented on by critics. No
matter what a person does there must
always elapse some period of time between
the presentation of an idea to the brain
and the response the body makes to it.
This is called reaction time.
Scientists have been very busy lately
endeavoring to secure accurate estimates
of this time. It is supposed that where
the senses and muscles are trained to such
a degree as in the case of a pianist of
Rosenthal's reputation, this time difference
must be reduced to a surprisingly small
figure—that thought must travel at extra-
ordinary speed.
In performing tests Dr. Ferrand struck
a telegrapher's key, and Rosenthal was to
lift his finger from a second key connected
with the first by an electric current as
quickly as he could after becoming aware
that the other key had been struck. A
very delicate machine registered the result.
The average reaction time was 107 ten-
thousandths of a second.
It was then
found that Rosenthal had not thought of
his fingers on the key, but listened for the
sound, and if there is such a thing as a
sensory type he may be placed in it.
Rosenthal has repeatedly declared that
the seat of his technique was the brain,
and that he was not a muscular musician.
The experiments confirmed this idea.
Joseffy, who was Rosenthal's master, has
always been classed in the same way.
Sound traveled from the key under Dr.
Ferrand's fingers to the auditory area about
Rosenthal's ear. The idea was conveyed
through the brain to the moter areas and
traveled down the player's arm to the fore-
finger of the hand in 107 ten-thousandths
of a second. That is so fast that one can-
not realize it. It takes the most accurate
and delicate of instruments to measure
such things.
*
\17AGNER'S works dominate the Ger-
* *
man stage still, and recent statistics
published at Bayreuth show an increase of
the number of performances in other