THE CONGRESS OF WOMEN.

475

reach this consummation, the sacrifice required to secure a technical training which is afterward entirely lost, must be considered comparatively useless.

If instead of the long hours of practicing the child’s attention was directed to the importance of listening to music and studying its history, as well as the various works of the great masters, and the interpretation of their ideas, its musical intel­ligence would develop as a flower unfolds, and the child though unable to execute on any instrument, would nevertheless be an artist and a musician.

It is a mistaken idea to believe classical music may not be appreciated by a child.

I was convinced of this when taking a little girl seven years of age to a rehearsal of the Apollo Club, it being the first chorus or music of the kind she had ever heard. She was greatly interested throughout the entire performance, and that same evening at home sung several measures of the chorus perfectly. She, of course, had an exceptional memory, but as we all know, it is “ the exception that proves the rule.”

Even in the hope of becoming a virtuoso more rapid and intelligent progress would undoubtedly be made by devoting more time during the first years of study to musical analysis.

Having been greatly interested in the latent musical ability of children, believing the inadequacy of present methods responsible for its slow development, I determined to prove the truth of my theories by putting them into practical execution, and so chose a class where my ideas would not be restricted to methods which I did not approve. As many others in emergency, I turned to Miss Jane Addams, of the Hull House, who found the class for me at once, and has since been its chief friend, providing a room in which to meet and doing all in her power to contribute to its success.

When hearing the children had no pianos in their homes, I greatly doubted the success of the experiment, but the thirty eager faces that appeared in response to Miss Addams’ call reassured me, as I realized that this was the opportunity for discovering what could be accomplished without practicing. Their ignorance was perfect for my purpose, the majority never having touched a piano, and not having the least idea how to move the fingers from one key to another. Having but one piano at our dis­posal, we were obliged to substitute something else with which to accomplish our work, and began by playing simple technical exercises on a table, or anything that would support the hand, sometimes singing the tones and sometimes accompanied with the piano, in order to learn rhythm and melody simultaneously. In this way an excellent idea of pitch was soon acquired, which will be illustrated later.

Two little girls in the class said they committed their first piece of music while they were putting the house in order, Anna singing the treble and Regnia the alto until they knew it, and afterward were able to play it quite intelligently, thus proving the value of technical work in memorizing is greatly overestimated. Some of the pupils have committed an entire piece of music to memory before playing it upon the piano, showing that even hearing the tone is unnecessary to an intelligent understand­ing of a composition.

When we first began the class was so large and the time so limited in which to teach it, that on each lesson day not more than half of the children were able to reach the piano; consequently it became necessary to have them all come together in order that each might have the opportunity of receiving at least some benefit by hearing the instruction given to the others. This subsequently developed into one of the most valuable features of the class. The strict attention given by the children was all that could be desired, and each unconsciously became capable of criticis­ing intelligently. Sometimes when the younger children were playing, the older girls would read the life of a composer in an adjoining room, telling it to the class in their own language on their return. They are now drawing the likenesses of various com­posers and also making busts of them in clay.

Wishing to avoid the usual relations of teacher and pupil, I encouraged the chil­dren to form a club. They made their own rules (which, by the way, had nothing whatever to do with music—prohibiting whispering, the chewing of gum, etc.) and chose their own name, the Paderewski Club.