In spite of the hurry and the crowd
and the jumble of noises, still the organ-tones go everywhere clear,
full, melodious, bidding us heed them. Perhaps we mark the music with
the hand, or walk differently, or begin to sing with it. In one way or
another the music will make us do something--that shows its power. I
have seen in many European towns a group of children about the
organ-man,[2] dancing or singing as he played and enjoying every tune
to the utmost. This taught me that music of every kind has its lover,
and that with a little pains and a little patience the love for music
belongs to all alike, and may be increased if other things do not push
it aside.
Now, one of the first things to be said of music is that it makes
happiness, and what makes happiness is good for us, because happiness
not only lightens the heart, but it is one of the best ways to make
the light come to the face. The moment we study music we learn a
severe lesson, and that is this: There can be no use in our trying to
be musicians unless we are willing to learn perfect order in all the
music-tasks we do.
In this, music is a particularly severe mistress. Nothing slovenly,
untidy, or out of order will do. The count must be absolutely right,
not fast nor slow as our fancy dictates, but even and regular. The
hands must do their task together in a friendly manner; the one never
crowding nor hurrying the other, each willing to yield to the other
when the right moment comes.
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