57.—THE GREATER THE COMPOSER THE GREATER THE STUDENT.
The greatest composers have been proud to acknowledge themselves the pupils of the masters with whom they studied. In fact, the only one among "the immortals" who did not have thorough drill in all departments of composition was Schubert; and his music shows this. For, while he has seldom been excelled in melodic inventiveness, his thematic treatment is weak, and he has not been able to make the most of the goods the gods gave him. Recognizing his lack of technical knowledge in the line of contrapuntal treatment, he made arrangements to study counterpoint with one of the best teachers of the day. But illness overtook him, and the grim reaper carried him off ere he could profit by his studies.
While this is true, while the greatest students of music that ever lived and those to whom most genius was given were eager and anxious to study as hard and as long as possible, we have, on the other hand, many who, relying on the mite of talent that has been given them, attempt to strike out for themselves, and who are so blind as not to see that with their untutored splashings they do not make the most dignified and successful progress in the tonal sea.
Every one who can conjure up a bit of melody thinks himself a full-fledged composer, though he may know naught of the spelling, grammar, or rhetoric of music. Others who have considerable talent consider that it supplies the place of study properly directed by competent teachers.
The writer was approached not long before penning this sketch by a man who claimed to have written symphonies, operas, string quartets, and dear knows what all else, and who wound up by boasting that he had never taken a single music lesson of any kind whatever. When his claim and list of compositions was made known we felt as though we might be standing in the presence of some unknown and unrecognized Beethoven; when the final statement as to taking no lessons was uttered, we felt as though we were standing in the presence of—a fool.
Perhaps it would be better if we could all be as conscientious as that honest old German teacher, who, when approached by his admiring pupils with the exclamation:—"Oh, Herr Teufelsberg, you know so much about music; why don't you compose; you could write such perfectly elegant pieces?"—exclaimed: "Nein, nein, I vill nod write mine museek. Mein Gott! dere ish genug bad museek in de vorlt, alreadish!"