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7141 TEACHING INSTRUMENTAL PT_8.5x11 ins 01/09/2017 10:19 Page vii
Preface
The teaching environment for the instrumental music teacher is constantly evolving. In the almost 50 years since its first
edition in 1969, The Teaching of Instrumental Music has reflected these changes and none more so than in this, its fifth
edition. While the basic purpose of the book remains the same: to provide both a text and a reference for pre-service
and practicing instrumental music teachers, this edition expands its unique and comprehensive coverage to include all
the foundation and materials needed for readers to be both current and successful in their instrumental music teaching
profession.
The words unique and comprehensive are not overstating the merits. There is no other single resource that includes
more breadth and depth with our topic.
For the college instructor, this text could be seen as appropriate for several courses, depending upon how the
curriculum of the teaching institution is arranged. Courses including individual and family instrumental methods, small
group and large ensemble rehearsal techniques (traditional and otherwise), the administration and organization of music
programs, techniques of motivation, and approaching special populations are all discussed extensively with both research-
and experience-based insights. Appropriate for both undergraduate and graduate level studies, previous adopters of this
text report to us that earlier editions of this book are commonly retained in students’ professional libraries.
For the pre-service or practicing teachers, this text is a desktop, go-to resource that explains best practices in the
profession with clarity including detailed trouble----shooting suggestions and current resources both in print and on the
web. Readers have recommended portions of this text to justify curriculum and assessment decisions to their administrators.
This comprehensive text written by authors with clearly established credibility is superior to finding random material
online and is perfect for those who foresee the need for detailed material as they embark further on that journey toward
success.
While a quick perusal of the table of contents lists the major sub-topics, it is worth noting several additions,
improvements, and features that readers told us would be helpful to them.
WHAT’S NEW IN THIS EDITION

• Return and update of the History chapter, including a new history of school instrumental ensembles;
• Revision and updating of curriculum development including the aligning of objectives and assessment. The
assessment chapter suggests a unique and immediately usable method of coordinating State Department of Education
student learning objectives as per the new Every Student Succeeds Act (ESSA);
• Update of the role of motivation in teaching instrumental music;
• New discussion of both 1994 and 2014 versions of the NAfME National Standards as they relate to the teaching
of instrumental music;
• Complete revamping of the planning for and rehearsing instrumental ensembles chapters, including new or greatly
expanded sections on programming, choosing quality music, and using successful rehearsal techniques;
• Updates to references, including favored websites and YouTube links;
• A chapter on techniques for beginning new instrumentalists;
• A chapter devoted to classroom guitar;
• Updates on the use of technology for teaching and learning music;
• Expanded chapters on encouraging healthy performance practice, marching band, and jazz band;
• New discussion questions approached through essential questions for use by individuals, small groups, and classes
to assist in stimulating dialogue among readers;
• eResources, which include expanded materials directly usable for instruction. These are linked to the catalog page
on www.routledge.com in a tab labeled “eResources,” which will connect to the authors’ own website.
7141 TEACHING INSTRUMENTAL PT_8.5x11 ins 01/09/2017 10:19 Page viii
viii PREFACE
Finally, we welcome Mark Fonder to the authoring team. Fonder is highly respected in both music education and
wind ensemble performance milieux.
In addition to the material listed above, much of which is not available elsewhere, we have also included eResources
that provide expanded materials for those wishing further information on particular topics. Readers may go to the
publisher’s website at www.routledge.com/9781138667204.
Through discussion of contemporary developments as they relate to the cherished traditions in music education,
readers will notice the pervasive philosophy of this book is to assist teachers as they develop an instrumental music
program based on understanding and respecting all types of music. By participation in the band and orchestra, students
are guided to participate in the experience by creating, knowing about, and re-creating this great art.
The authors wish to acknowledge the many individuals, peers, and colleagues who have read and commented on
the material in this book. We want to identify Constance Ditzel, editor at Taylor & Francis, for her guidance.
Richard Colwell
Michael Hewitt
Mark Fonder
February, 2017
7141 TEACHING INSTRUMENTAL PT_8.5x11 ins 01/09/2017 10:19 Page 1
PART
I
The Foundations
CHAPTER 1
History of Instrumental
1
Music
Knowledge of the history of instrumental ensembles is not essential for success as a band or orchestra conductor; still,
it seems appropriate to begin a book on instruments and instrumental teaching with a brief historical survey. In addition
to the intrinsic interest which history holds for us, there is a practical value in the perspective gained from knowledge
of history. One can become aware of trends, observe the ways in which things were done at previous times, make
contact with objectives, procedures, and methods, and gain a greater understanding of the reasons behind present practices
and present situations. The extramusical outcomes become evident; e.g., community and industry bands and orchestras
contributed to the cohesion felt by immigrants as they contributed to the kind of country they believed America could
become. One hopes that such knowledge will help the teacher plan upon sound bases, avoid mistakes of the past, and
shape the future intelligently.
THE DEVELOPMENT OF INSTRUMENTS

The earliest common use of instruments, recognizable ancestors of our modern woodwinds, strings, drums, and brasses
dates to several thousand years BCE. The flute, drums, and perhaps reed instruments were apparently a part of human
history for some thirty thousand years. Ensembles of flutes, lyres, reed, and brass instruments were part of early Greek
and Asian celebrations and in support of military exercises. Little development of group instrumental music as we know
it occurred until the modern orchestra had its beginnings with the creation of opera at the close of the sixteenth century.
The orchestras grew in size and importance as opera became a favorite form of entertainment. As early as Monteverdi,
instruments, as crude as they were, were used to portray mood and character, perhaps the first such use of instruments
for their unique, individual qualities. Thus, a need was established to improve and create more flexible instruments.
THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE ORCHESTRA

Because the violin is the heart of the orchestra, the modern orchestra was not possible until the seventeenth century,
when the great Italian violin makers perfected their craft and created the master instruments. The first good orchestra
is considered to be the “Twenty-four violins of the King,” in the service of Louis XIII of France, which reached its
peak of excellence some 40 years later under Lully, during the reign of Louis XIV. Lully was an outstanding conductor
who demanded perfection. He conducted with a cane to ensure rhythmic unity and created a balanced ensemble of
violins, flutes, oboes, bassoons, and double basses. In France, the orchestra was a vehicle for the private entertainment
of the nobility; during the same period, however, the first recorded public concert by an orchestra took place in London,
in 1673. By the time of Corelli, a generation later, the modern violin had taken precedence over its competitors as the
heart of the orchestra; viola, vielles, and lutes were rarely used except as solo instruments or for special effects.
Striving for excellence marks the history of both instrumentalists and conductors. Band and orchestra conductors
featured technically accomplished instrumentalists and vocalists. Corelli, a noted performer as well as composer, is often
given credit for originating the practice of matched bowing for orchestra. Alessandro Scarlatti increased the importance
of the operatic orchestra, often dividing the strings into four parts and balancing them with the winds. The brasswinds
became a legitimate part of the orchestra about 1720, the addition of instruments for emotional expression often marking
a composer’s style. Any list of individuals important to the development of the orchestra must include Gluck. He not
only made innovations in the use of instruments but also, more significantly, made radical changes in the type of music
played by the orchestra. He introduced the use of the clarinet, omitted the harpsichord, and gave the orchestra music
to play that was genuinely expressive and dramatic, mirroring the scenes and action of the opera. With Gluck the orchestra
discarded its role as simple accompaniment and became an independent dramatic force.
4 THE FOUNDATIONS
FIGURE 1.1
1873—Leipzig, Germany: The Women’s
Orchestra of Frau Amann-Weinlich
The classical era of Haydn and Mozart created the balanced instrumentation and the musical forms that have for
the past few hundred years made the symphony orchestra the chief of musical structures, first in popularity with the
public and greatest in challenge to the composer. During the nineteenth century, the number of orchestras multiplied
rapidly in Europe (Figure 1.1) and were, along with bands, established in America as well.
At least since the 1760s, amateurs and professionals constituted the membership of both ensembles. The first symphony
orchestra to be organized was the London Philharmonic in 1813. The New York Philharmonic, formed in 1842, has
been in existence since that date. Several events gave impetus to the orchestra movement. One of these was the visit
of the Jullien orchestra to America in 1853–1854. Louis-Antoine Jullien was a spectacular showman whose antics not
only fascinated the audience but also whose music made a real and positive impact upon the American public. Another
was the Germania Music Society (1848–1854) and the touring of the entertaining Steyermarkische orchestra where
members kept time with cymbals on their boots. Of more lasting value and genuine artistic merit was the work of
Theodore Thomas. His orchestra performed frequently, earning enough for his members to be employed full-time with
daily rehearsals. He toured the country in 1863, thus enabling members’ full-time employment. Most musicians made
a living by performing in various venues, pit orchestras, theaters, opera, vaudeville, pleasure gardens, circuses, accompanying
touring soloists like Jenny Lind and Ole Bull, and more. Musicians were expected to be proficient on both a string and
a wind instrument to facilitate employment in both bands and orchestras, a competence expected until the 1920s. In
the 1880s every town and even mining camps had an orchestra. Women and Blacks formed their own orchestras. Of
importance is the orchestra of the Harvard Musical Society, managed by the music critic John Sullivan Dwight who
had exacting musical standards. Theodore Thomas’s interest in education led him to start a school, financed by the
Nichols family in Cincinnati in 1878 for the training of professional musicians. Thomas served as the inspiration for the
founding of the Boston Symphony in 1881, noted for its excellence. This excellence was made possible by the support
of Boston businessman Henry Higginson, who imported European conductors and who guaranteed full-time employ-
ment for 60 musicians. Thomas also founded the Chicago Symphony, where he established a precedent of corporation
support through an orchestra association. Support for other orchestras came from subscription concerts with an annual
fee and profits from the audience’s eating, dancing, and drinking. Orchestras, like bands, performed music the audience
wanted to hear. Thus, when the waltz was replaced by new dance styles in the 1920s, orchestras lost out to bands. The
popularity of pleasure garden concerts led to the founding of summer “pops” orchestras, first by Arthur Fiedler in Boston
and later to most orchestras. These provided important support for the professional performers; the expected “season”
was about 20 weeks. Philanthropic support became important as audiences were reluctant to pay for music the musicians
wanted to play; the orchestra was perceived as entertainment. The orchestra’s high point in the U.S., along with that
of bands, may have been between 1900 and 1920. Walter Damrosch attempted to teach music appreciation using the
radio and the New York Philharmonic in the mid-1920s. Federal support for some 127 symphony orchestras was provided
during the 1930s depression. In the mid-twentieth century, the Ford Foundation allocated some 80 million dollars to
stabilize the financial situation of major and regional symphony orchestras. This grant was critical and most orchestras
were able to find support to replace this one-time largesse, thus enriching communities with professional and semi-
professional orchestras. Charismatic conductors continue to be important to the history of bands and orchestra.
HISTORY OF INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC 5
FIGURE 1.2
c. 1520—Nuremberg, Germany: A mural
attributed to various artists, including Hans
Holbein and Albrecht Dürer, depicting
members of the town wind band playing
from a balcony
THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE BAND

The growth of the band movement is less clearly defined. In the late sixteenth century, Venice was the center of a
group of composers who wrote for brass ensembles, primarily trombones and cornetti. These ensembles performed
principally in the church (Figure 1.2).
They were followed by other brass groups, usually civic or military bands, throughout Europe in the seventeenth
and eighteenth centuries. Oboes, clarinets, horns, and bassoons were soon added. Considering the state of these instruments
at the time, one would agree that their sound was primarily useful for battle commands. Bands as we know them today
seem to have stemmed from the formation of the 45-piece band of the National Guard in Paris in 1789. Bernard Sarrette
conducted this band for one year. In 1790 its number was increased to 70, and Francois Gossec became the conductor.
Two years later the band was dissolved, but its members eventually became the nucleus of the French National
Conservatory, founded in 1795.
Other than the UK’s brass bands, America has been the leading country in the formation of concert bands, with
groups that antedate the Paris Band of the National Guard by more than a decade. Josiah Flagg, often known as the
first American bandsman, was active as early as the 1700s. The Massachusetts Band, formed in 1783, later became the
Green Dragon Band, then the Boston Brigade Band (Figure 1.3).
In 1859 the Boston Brigade Band acquired a 26-year-old conductor, Patrick Gilmore, who changed its name to
Gilmore’s Band, took it to war, and made it famous. He took a cue from orchestras, touring the U.S. to provide full-
time employment for the musicians. Most bands had little permanency; much depended upon the conductor and/or
FIGURE 1.3
1851—Boston, MA: A woodcut from
Gleason’s Pictorial Magazine (August 9,
1851) depicting the Boston Brass Band,
which utilized exclusively over-the-shoulder
brass instruments
6 THE FOUNDATIONS
public support. The Allentown Civic Band, formed in 1828, one year after college bands at Harvard and Yale, still
performs today; and many New England towns are able to trace an early origin; e.g., the Temple, New Hampshire
town band was formed in 1799. These town bands were presumably small, comparable to the U.S. Marine Band, founded
in 1798, which at the turn of the century was composed of two oboes, two clarinets, two horns, a bassoon, and a drum.
The size of these bands is estimated to have been between 8 and 15 players, growing rapidly until the Civil War.
Beethoven wrote his military march in D (1816) for a minimum of 32 players. To honor the visit of the Russian Emperor
Nicholas to Prussia in 1838, Wilhelm Wieprecht combined the bands of several regiments and conducted more than
1,000 winds plus 200 extra side drummers. Royal visits were traditionally accompanied by impressive bands and orchestras.
The improvement of brass instruments with valves and pistons allowed for excellence in performance and increasingly
a wide selection of literature. It also increased public interest in instrumental music. Competition and comparison of
performance seems inherent with music ensembles. Touring European ensembles and soloists by the mid-nineeteenth
century aided in establishing musical standards in the U.S. The band contest held in Paris in 1867 involved bands from
nine nations. According to Goldman, the numbers played included the “Finale” of the Lorelei by Mendelssohn, “Fantasy”
on the Prophet by Meyerbeer, Rossini’s William Tell Overture, the “Bridal Chorus” from Lohengrin by Wagner, plus
a “Fantasy on Carnival of Venice.” Soloist virtuosity accompanied most performances; variations on Carnival of Venice
continue to challenge today’s performers. Higginson’s superior Boston Symphony’s concerts in New York City estab-
lished a new standard for the New York Philharmonic and a continuing comparison. Brass bands were often conducted
by virtuoso cornet soloists. The model may have been the Dodworth Brass Band, arguably the best band in New York
City prior to Gilmore’s reign. In 1853, two New York bandmasters, Kroll and Reitsel, began to use woodwinds with
the brasses, thereby greatly expanding the band’s musical potential as well as its repertoire.
Some 500 bands enlisted in the Civil War, most as an extant ensemble. Most were discharged in a year as the men
were needed to fight, although some were retained to entertain and to support morale. The real impetus to the band
movement came as a celebration of peace. After Gilmore’s band was mustered out of the army, an opportunity came
in 1864 to form a “grand national band” of 500 army bandsmen and a chorus of 5,000 school children for the inauguration
of the governor of Louisiana. Ever the entrepreneur, Gilmore’s business acumen sensed financial possibilities as the event
appealed to patriotism and education. Three years later, he aided in organizing a World Peace Jubilee on an even grander
scale but with less financial success. The finest musical organizations of Europe participated, however, attracting the
public and popularizing better music. The visiting European groups dazzled the audiences with their skill; it was obvious
that American bands and orchestras were no match for them.
American bands improved rapidly in the second half of the nineteenth century. Instruction books were published
by mid-century, and as early as 1816 West Point had added an instrumental teacher to the faculty who was also the
band director. Gilmore took over the leadership of the 22nd Regimental Band in 1873 and directed it until his death
in 1892. He was succeeded by the unlikely personage of Victor Herbert, whose well-loved melodies seem to have been
little influenced by the military march. Herbert also conducted the Pittsburgh Symphony. From 1880 until 1892, John
Philip Sousa conducted the Marine Band and gave it a national reputation for excellence and original popular marches.
Sousa and Gilmore toured extensively, bringing fine performances of both great music and popular music to audiences
who had little other opportunity to hear professional concerts. Many fine local bands sprang up. Their repertoire included
transcriptions of orchestral favorites, music written especially for band, and vocal and virtuoso solos with band
accompaniment. For millions, the local bands represented the only avenue to good music of any sort. The popularity
of bands in America pre-WWII can barely be exaggerated. In addition to the civic-sponsored organizations there were
department store bands, prison bands, factory bands, lodge bands, and others. Even today the New York City Police
Band marches in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.
The size and scope of the band movement would not have been possible without the British band libraries.
Published arrangements had become possible due to the standardized instrumentation encouraged by Kneller Hall, the
Royal Military School of Music. British firms such as Boosey and Company were able to publish “standard” band
arrangements of general high quality that stimulated and influenced the course of band music in both Great Britain and
the United States.
Standardized instrumentation in the United States came about through the influence of leaders such as Herbert L.
Clarke, Albert A. Harding, Frederick Stock, John Philip Sousa, E.F. Goldman, Taylor Branson, and C.M. Tremaine.
When national school band contests began in the mid-1920s, the Committee on Instrumental Affairs of the Music
Supervisor’s National Conference, which formulated the rules for band contests, instituted severe penalties for those
organizations that did not have the recommended instrumentation (about 72 members including alto and bass clarinets),
thus assuring standardization.
Although professional bands in America did not find fertile soil of financial support comparable to that of the symphony
orchestras, the armed forces have supported a band program of excellence for more than half a century, the Army
authorized some instruction positions in the mid-1800s, and the Navy establishing a permanent school of music in 1935.
World War II provided the service bands the opportunity to select excellent performers from the 16 million Americans,
men and women, serving in the Armed Forces during that period of time. The tradition of excellence continued after
the war as the military musicians found that a career in band performance was both possible and rewarding, and the
public had come to expect performance excellence and showmanship from the four military ensembles based in the
nation’s capital.
Professional bands in the U.S. not associated with the military enjoyed their golden era from approximately 1900
to 1925. Arthur Pryor, originally a solo trombonist with the Sousa Band, formed his own band in 1902. He, Patrick
Conway, Bohumir Kryl, Giuseppe Creatore, and Alessandro Liberati and others found tremendous success touring the
country and making recordings. The professional bands, especially Sousa’s, inspired the founding of thousands of
community bands.
THE GROWTH OF PUBLIC SCHOOL INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC

The year 1925 marks the end of the professional band era and with it a decline in their numbers, although the Goldman
Band and a few radio bands did maintain their popularity. As bands and orchestras had been supported for their
entertainment value, the twentieth century brought the radio, the phonograph, the moving picture, and even the
automobile as entertainment alternatives. The rise of the symphony orchestra met the needs for good music that the
band era had inspired. The band was unable to compete with the symphony in performances of the traditional classics
as these suffered when transcribed for band, although A.A. Harding at the University of Illinois made fine transcriptions,
often requiring new instruments, for the concert band.
Live music was available from the increasing excellence and popularity of college and public school performing
groups. College conservatories and music departments were initiated after the Civil War, perhaps given an impetus by
the Peace Jubilees of Gilmore. These conservatories provided instrumental music lessons, often enrolling three or four
thousand students. Small orchestras found a place in the public schools, serving as the official group for plays, operettas,
commencement exercises, etc. An extracurricular student-run orchestra was formed in Aurora, Illinois, in 1878. Around
the turn of the century the outstanding instrumental work of Jessie Clark in Wichita, Kansas (1890), and Will Earhart
in Richmond, Indiana, (1898) was evident. Despite the impact of the professional band movement in the last third of
the nineteenth century, school bands were generally started after the orchestras. By 1919, 278 orchestras and 88 school
bands had been documented. There are references to school bands earlier than this time, but primary emphasis seems
to have been on community bands that flourished in nearly every town at the turn of the century, providing town pride.
In the first 15 years of the twentieth century, several notable instances of real pioneering may be found. A few schools
with vision and foresight were far ahead of the general public in adopting instrumental programs. In Los Angeles in
1904, grade school orchestras were formed to provide good players for the high school organizations. In 1905, A.A.
Harding came to the University of Illinois and began a college band program and clinics for high school teachers that
set the standard for the next half century. A few years later, around 1912, A.R. McAllister and Charles Peters instituted
in Joliet, Illinois, a band program whose reputation for excellence continued for decades. School boards as far apart as
Oakland, California, and Rochester, New York, allotted $10,000 and $15,000, respectively, to purchase band and orchestra
instruments for their school systems (this in the years 1913 and 1918 when that amount of money was a princely sum).
Such instances were the exception, but they provided the leadership and inspiration for others.
The great growth of public school bands after World War I has often been attributed to the war and the attraction
of the military during this period. It was believed that musicians who returned home after playing in military bands
created an abundant supply of teachers for the schools. This is only partially true. School orchestras and bands abounded
before the supposed influx of teachers. A 1919 survey1 of 375 schools showed that most had instrumental ensembles.
Bands were present in the schools on Indian Reservations by the turn of the twentieth century, New Orleans had a
rich band culture, and the Freedman’s Bureau was supportive of music among African Americans during the
Reconstruction. Numerous sociocultural factors contributed to the sudden growth of instrumental music in colleges and
public schools. The schools, public and college, broadened their outlook to take in a number of activities not previously
within their scope: vocational, athletic, artistic, and recreational. Music became important to competitive athletics, for
public relations purpose, and for civic advertisement. Ensembles were often student-led, making documentation
difficult—recall that Harvard students organized music for the first graduation in the seventeenth century. Service clubs
experienced a sudden growth; the American Bandmasters Association was formed; the Cardinal Principles of Secondary
Education were proclaimed by the National Education Association; all of these directly and advantageously affected the
school band and orchestra. Youth was changing; students were staying in school longer; most homes had a piano; and
school ensembles appealed to them with their color, group spirit, and the chance for recognition. Instrumental music
and Dewey’s progressive education were a natural fit.
Bands have always marched and they continue to do so. The primary purpose of the military band was to march
into battle or to perform for those who were marching. The first college bands (shortly after the Civil War) were small
military organizations supported by the military departments in the land-grant institutions. When these bands became
associated with Schools of Music, their size increased. With Harding’s 1925 initiation of homecoming at the University
of Illinois and the integration of a half-time show into this event, the growth of the marching band was assured. Music
8 THE FOUNDATIONS
and showmanship combined to fill the continuing need in American culture for entertainment. For most Americans,
the high school and college marching band continues as an essential component because of its role in local parades and
sporting events and its prominence in televised holiday events. The drum corps and its competitions draw enormous
community support and they have a U.S. fan base deeper today than U.S. professional soccer.
With the introduction of music into the curriculum came the problem of credits, a problem that continues today.
The members of the very early groups, from the Farm and Trade Band of Boston Harbor in 1858 to those existing at
the end of the century, usually met after school hours and received no academic recognition or credit. As far as we
know, the first instance of students receiving credit for school music was in Richmond, Indiana, in 1905, whereby
students gained one-half credit for playing in the orchestra that met after school. The following year Osborne McConathy
in Chelsea, Massachusetts, secured school credit for students who took music lessons after school from private teachers.
In 1920, Charles McCray in Parsons, Kansas, gained both school time for the orchestra and credit for participation.
The next major innovation in school music occurred in 1923 when the instrument manufacturers sponsored a
national band contest in Chicago as a promotional device. As with Gilmore’s Jubilees, the commercial venture proved
to be a powerful influence, and the success of the contest was unquestionable. The manufacturers wisely turned the
management of future contests over to the school. State contests were held in Kansas in 1912 and by 1925 were coordinated
by a Committee on Instrumental Affairs of the Music Supervisors National Conference. The first school-sponsored
national contest was held in 1926 in Fostoria, Ohio. The competitive spirit of the American people insured the immediate
success of the contests; as with athletic competition and debate tournaments, the American community had a chance to
test its superiority against its neighbors in a music contest. The history of the contest became the history of the school
band.
At almost the same time, school orchestras received impetus from a different source—the formation of a national
high school orchestra. Joseph Maddy—who made an outstanding reputation as a high school orchestra conductor in
Kansas, New York, Indiana, and Michigan, and who started orchestral tryouts and high school vocational music programs—
took his orchestras to conventions where they could be heard. The response to the Parsons, Kansas orchestra at the
Music Supervisors National Conference in 1921 inspired him to form a National Conference Orchestra for Detroit in
1926. Accordingly, he advertised in music journals and from 400 applications selected 238 students for the orchestra.
The performance for the conference was of such quality that Maddy was invited to form a second national student
orchestra to play for the 1927 Dallas meeting of the Department of Superintendence, the official national organization
of school superintendents. The audience of school superintendents was highly impressed by the orchestra’s performance
and passed this resolution:
We would record our full appreciation of the fine musical programs and art exhibits in connection with this
convention. They are good evidence that we are rightly coming to regard music, art, and other similar subjects as
fundamental in the education of American children. We recommend that everywhere they be given equal
consideration and support with other basic subjects.2
The resolution resulted in the initiation of hundreds of instrumental programs in schools across the country. Music
was the “new thing” established as a worthwhile area deserving both school time and credit. Maddy organized a third
national orchestra for the 1928 Music Supervisors National Conference in Chicago. Administrators at these conventions
were impressed by the healthy experiences of students working together; the excellent discipline (much of which Maddy
had learned from T.P. Giddings); and those by-products of citizenship, health, and useful recreation that were considered
important school outcomes at this time. The reform or technical schools for delinquent adolescents (ages 12–17) emphasized
instrumental music; the Lansing, Michigan reform (technical) school band won the Class B National Band Contest in
1939. Thus the success of Maddy’s orchestra coincided with the requisite cultural and social conditions of the time to
bring about music’s firm establishment in the schools.
Superintendents and music supervisors returned home from the conventions to find that administrative problems
were involved in setting up instrumental programs. In the smaller schools there were too few students to support both
a band and an orchestra; financial support for two instrumental groups added a sizable amount to the budget. Because
the same musical and extramusical values were claimed by both, the band took precedence over the orchestra partly
because of its greater flexibility, greater usefulness to the community and to athletics, and its greater appeal to youth.
The relationship between public performance and support was established; often the community and school parents
assumed ownership of the prizewinning band.
The influence of the band instrument manufacturers, music publishers, and the uniform companies should not be
overlooked nor discounted. They provided temporary funding for school band directors’ salaries and offered attractive
instrumental rental and purchase programs. They actively supported contests and supplied financial aid to Joseph Maddy
in the founding of the National Music Camp at Interlochen, Michigan. It was not only the students who were inspired
by the national orchestra; Maddy saw Interlochen as a continuation of this program for the gifted.
Since 1946, the industry has sponsored an annual instrumental clinic in Chicago to introduce new literature and products
to teachers and provide a venue for school ensembles to perform before large numbers of music educators. The clinic
provides an opportunity for sharing of experiences, musical and administrative. Many outstanding bands and orchestras
are not fully school-supported; funds for travel, uniforms, and instruments often have to be raised by the community.
Ideas are also exchanged about state and district policies that impact upon rehearsal time and academic credit.
With the formation of the Eastman Wind Ensemble by Frederick Fennell in 1952, a new literature for bands was
promulgated. Fennell promoted ensembles which performed music organized for the exact instrumentation specified by
the composer, only one student on a part, playing original music written for winds. The idea of one-on-a-part wind
instrument experiences enhanced the education arguments for school bands; extensive lists of excellent, usable literature
were collected and distributed at clinics and workshops. Newly commissioned music became plentiful. The wind
ensemble’s commitment to increasing repertoire original to the wind band, and, to a certain extent, renewed interest
in the British brass band, balanced the influence of the concert band into the twenty-first century. School orchestras
prospered with the formation of community youth orchestras and continued to have the advantage of a large repertoire
of good music, including much contemporary music being commissioned by the 30 or so truly professional orchestras.
Shinichi Suzuki was primarily responsible for demonstrating the viability of string instrument instruction at an early age
and the advantages of continued participation. The “Suzuki movement” created and has sustained the present interest
of American parents in string instruction for their children. Beginning about 1958, this movement grew steadily, influencing
private string instruction more than any methodology being taught in the public schools. Interested parents request a
Suzuki teacher, rather than a violin instructor, “Suzuki” becoming synonymous with string instruction. The methodology
has spread to other instruments, primarily piano and flute, but is best known for its major contribution to string education.
There is also an international El Sistema movement to introduce music, primarily strings, into disadvantaged and
multicultural schools. Again, program visibility is important with tours of the Venezuela El Sistema Orchestra and the
advocacy of Gustavo Dudamel, conductor of the Los Angeles Philharmonic and a graduate of the Venezuelan program.
The small instrumental ensemble has existed throughout the history of instrumental music. Chamber music, however,
can be traced primarily to the Renaissance period, although examples are to be found in the Middle Ages. Cultural
changes, including public and university societies, aristocratic connoisseurs, and the improvement of instruments, provided
a favorable climate for chamber music. All composers wrote for small ensembles, much of the music dependent upon
the musicians and instruments available. Brass choirs (tower music) were important ensembles to the Gabrielis and others;
string ensembles were popular in the more intimate palace settings. As with large ensembles, improvement of instruments
affected the quality and quantity of small ensemble music to a greater extent than the influence of any composer or
exemplary small ensemble. On occasion, a composer has been more daring in his or her music for the small ensemble,
but for the most part, small ensemble literature parallels the literature of the large ensembles. (Vocal ensembles were
likely an important influence on the acceptance and popularity of instrumental chamber music.)
The public school music program has long championed small ensembles as a means of continued participation after
graduation, and it may have even stronger educational advantages than the wind ensemble, and as a source of motivation.
The ensemble program has been, however, largely an out-of-school experience, with students receiving no academic
credit for participation. In the latter twentieth century, the most visible small ensemble was the school stage band and
later the jazz band. More recently, these have been joined by guitar, ukulele, mariachi, garage band, iPad ensembles,
and other small groups. The general policy for all ensembles has been for membership to be limited to students formally
enrolled in a large ensemble, but the exceptions are now numerous. The public school music contests have consistently
allowed private piano students to participate, thus increasing the futility of the struggle to limit access to a “select”
experience to those students enrolled in school music courses. One may have jazz as a college music major, a drum kit
as the major instrument, and limited, if any, participation in any large ensemble. Schools with eight or more periods in
the school day may be able to schedule these small ensembles (sometimes instructional time is available with block
scheduling), but scheduling remains an issue for a variety of ensembles.
According to the American Groves Dictionary, jazz cannot be categorized as folk, popular, or art, as it shares
commonalities with all three types of music. It represents a culmination of influences from the African and American
cultures. The recreating and improvising of counter-rhythms is an African contribution, whereas Paul Whiteman’s
contribution was to meld these creative improvisations with traditional music forms. The history of jazz is a continuing
search for a balance between the influence of Western classical music and that of native African music, as the music of
Whiteman and Jelly Roll Morton illustrate. The balance issue also pertains to ethnic ensembles, dance, mummers, rock,
steel, techno, baroque consorts, as music educators struggle with the continuing problem of all ensembles of defining
good music in every style and genre.
Instrumental music students are as competent and knowledgeable now as at any time in the history of music. School
budget cuts have had minimal impact on teaching and learning music; more than 500 “magnet” arts schools have been
established for those students who need music in their lives. The applied music major in universities and conservatories
has expanded exponentially in the last decade with auditions for major symphony orchestra positions, an Olympic-level
10 THE FOUNDATIONS
international competition. The American public desires quality in its music entertainment and shows evidence of continuing
support for creative and innovative programs of quality. Symphony orchestras depend upon local support. The National
Endowment for the Arts contributes about four percent of its budget toward their support. Youth symphonies are
dependent upon local support, with some affiliated with the local symphony. Programming is locally determined. There
is only military support for the national service ensembles. The Kennedy Center has been designated by Congress as
the support agency for education. There are, however numerous advocacy and support organizations. The National
Association of Music Merchants has long been a major voice, including having a non-voting member on the voluntary
national music standards committee. The Guitar Center is the largest instrumental music retailer. There are musician’s
unions, professional organizations, and major foundations involved with audience development and education. The Arts
Education Partnership is an association of more than 100 arts organizations including the lobbying organization,
Americans for the Arts. With no national policy, the history of instrumental music continues to be multifaceted. Yet,
the popularity of instrumental ensembles in the United States continues to demonstrate deep cultural and social roots
in both school and society.
RESOURCES
Website ––– (2013). Music Education. In The Grove Dictionary of American

Music, 2nd ed., New York: Oxford University Press, vol. 5,
A History of the Wind Band 641–659.
lipscomb.edu/windbandhistory ––– (2013). Orchestra, in The Grove Dictionary of American
Music, 2nd ed., New York: Oxford University Press, vol. 6,
243–272.
Texts Goldman, R.F. (1938). The Band’s Music. New York: Pitman.
Bainbridge, C. (1980). Brass Triumphant. London: Muller. ––– (1945). The Concert Band. New York: Rinehart.
Bierley, P. (1986). John Philip Sousa, American Phenomenon, rev. ––– (1962). The Wind Band: Its Literature and Technique.
ed. New York: Integrity Press. Boston: Allyn and Bacon; reprint (1974) Westport, CT:
Birge, E.B. (1928). History of Public School Music in the United States. Greenwood.
Boston, MA: Oliver Ditson; reprinted 1966 Reston, VA: Hansen, R.K. (2005). The American Wind Band: A Cultural
Music Educators National Conference. History. Chicago: GIA.
Brand, V. and G. Brand (1979). Brass Bands of the 20th Century. Keene, J.A. (1982). A History of Music Education in the United States.
Letchworth, UK: Egon. Hanover, NH: University Press of New England.
Browning, N. (1963). Joe Maddy of Interlochen: Profile of a Legend. Mark, M.L. and C. Gary (1999). A History of American Music
Chicago: Henry Regnery; reprinted 1992 Chicago: Education, 2nd ed. Reston, VA: National Association of
Contemporary Books. Music Educators (MENC).
Fennell, F. (1954). Time and the Winds: A Short History of the Use Norcross, B.H. (1994). One Band That Took a Chance: The Ithaca
of Wind Instruments in the Orchestra, Band, and the Wind High School Band from 1955 to 1967 Directed by Frank Battisti.
Ensemble. Kenosha, WI: G. LeBlanc. Ft. Lauderdale, FL: Meredith Music.
Ferguson, T. and S. Feldstein (1976). The Jazz Rock Ensemble: Schwartz, H.W. (1957). Bands of America. Garden City, NJ:
A Conductor’s and Teacher’s Guide. Port Washington, NY: Doubleday.
Alfred. White, W.C. (1974). A History of Military Music in America.
Fonder, M. (2012). Patrick Conway and his Famous Band. Westport, CT: Greenwood; reprint of (1944) NY:
Galesville, MD: Meredith Music. Exposition.
Foster, R.E. (2013). Bands of the World: Chronicle of a Cherished Whitwell, D. (2010). A Concise History of the Wind Band. (Craig
Tradition. Galesville, MD: Meredith Music. Dabelstein, ed.) Austin, TX: Whitwell.
Garrett, C. (ed.) (2013). Band. In The Grove Dictionary of American ––– (2010). The History and Literature of the Wind Band and Wind
Music, 2nd ed., NY: Oxford University Press, vol. 1, Ensemble, vols. 1–5. (Craig Dabelstein, ed.) Austin, TX:
314–327. Whitwell.
NOTES
1. McConathy, O., K. Gehrkens and E.B. Birge (1921). 2. Birge, E.B. (1928/1966). History of Public School Music in the
Present status of music instruction in colleges and high United States, new ed. Washington, DC: Music Educators
schools, 1919–20. Bulletin of the Department of the Interior National Conference.
Bureau of Education, 9.
CHAPTER 2
Teaching and the Role

2
of Motivation
Hard Work Beats Talent When
Talent Doesn’t Work Hard
We begin this chapter with words that describe the thrust of a chapter on motivation. Human motivation is complex
and influenced by factors known and unknown. Individuals differ, the environment differs, and it appears that meta-
cognition is an essential component. Part one of this chapter portrays research that may be applicable to some students
in some teaching situations, while part two provides ideas shown to be successful for motivating students in music
learning.
Motivation is internal and most educators believe that you can’t motivate another individual. This doesn’t mean
that you don’t remind students to “get with the program”; reminders are always important. There appears to be a parallel
with the research of Gary McPherson, Susan Hallam, and others in music education with the research of Carol Dweck
on growth or mastery mindset and Angela Duckworth’s concept of grit. There is no indication that using their findings
will materially improve learning and that all students will become self-motivated, though one can better understand
individual differences in the learning process. The research in music education has been focused on motivation to improve
but also to remain in instrumental music through high school and beyond. McPherson, Davidson, and Faulkner (2012)
devote their text, Music in Our Lives, to describing motivation through student identity in instrumental music. There
are no data on motivation for listening, composing, improvising, critiquing, and other musical activities.
Motivation is also generation-specific. “Millennials” are challenging hierarchical structures. They are open to change,
crave constant feedback (recognition), and want to make an impact on others while living a balanced life. Human behavior
is motivated from both within and without.
The most successful teachers of instrumental music are those whose musicianship and knowledge enable them to
produce good performances of good music, and whose understanding of student motivation encourages enthusiastic
participation on the part of their students, leading to greater development of their musical skills. Marin Alsop, conductor
of the Baltimore Symphony, and Tom O’Halloran, a successful instrumental music teacher in Carlisle, Massachusetts,
agree that personal relationships are the basis for understanding teacher–student psychology and student motivation. The
teacher needs to know the passion of each student.
It is important to discuss motivation in this text because the relationships and rapport established between student(s)
and teacher will do much to distinguish successful from unsuccessful teaching outcomes. We outline the most recent
thinking about motivation theory and provide a host of motivation suggestions used in the best rehearsal rooms and
classrooms. Because all students are not alike, observing over time what motivates each student will be an interesting
journey enhancing your teaching success.
A successful teacher initially establishes respect by being knowledgeable and helpful, the two essential components
in a positive personal relation with each student. Related to respect is trust, a deeper personal relationship between
student and teacher. Trust is so important that it exists at various levels in all organizations, and strengthens over time
through meaningful experiences. It is never quickly gained. Instrumental music is both a team and individual
accomplishment: the greater the trust between teacher, peers, and students, the greater the potential for musical excellence.
The students must have confidence in the teacher’s knowledge and musicianship. However, trust extends beyond the
ability to conduct, and the list of factors that contribute to trust is lengthy. William Tierney has written extensively
about trust, suggesting that trust is not innate, that it depends on the competence of the trusted (the teacher), and that
it can be neither coerced nor commanded. The trustworthy teacher selects appropriate and challenging music, provides
help, makes fair decisions, follows the rules and regulations set forth in the handbook, acts on the student’s behalf, has
integrity and a sense of humor, knows what is important and what is trivial, and more! Instrumental music teachers
often become confidants of students when students recognize that the hard work required to become competent performers
pays off due to the teachers’ ability to meld the efforts of the many into a satisfying whole.
12 THE FOUNDATIONS
More is needed than a solid understanding of the instruments and how to validly assess students. Good teachers can
inspire students, and effective teachers continue to hone this skill by improving their understanding of student psychology
and the culture of the classroom and school. Some motivational strategies work well with the entire group while others
work uniquely well with individual students. Teachers are successful when they understand that the individuals in any
group may vary because of home life, talents, past experiences, kinds of parental support, and specific socioeconomic
situations. Students with equal ability and experience, but differing in their motivation (more on this in a moment), will
respond differently to failure and success in the classroom.
A master instrumental teacher must be inspirational, a good musician, have skill at modeling, have a sense of humor,
use good judgment, be a self-starter, and vary the teaching routine. Are these qualities sufficient? No, the teacher must
be broadly educated, be disposed to hard work, be patient and persistent, understand the purpose of schooling, work
cooperatively, care about each and every student, be politically savvy, and more! Instrumental music is about personal
excellence, relationships between teachers and peers, and the enjoyment that music brings. Students want to be with
others and to be accepted. We all wish to possess high self-esteem and competence and to feel that others have confidence
in us. Self-esteem is related to motivation but not to achievement. Imparting knowledge about Stravinsky is a matter
of teacher clarity and competence, but leading students to perform Stravinsky well is the domain of motivation.
The psychologist Csikszentmihalyi suggests that tasks in themselves can be motivating. Students can become so
interested in pursuing a task (for example, learning their lesson or part) that they lose all track of time, and, if interrupted,
can’t wait to return to the task. Csikszentmihalyi calls this behavior “flow”. Teachers seek tasks that encourage flow and
that relate to course objectives.
PART I: RESEARCH
Pintrich and Schunk (2002) state that professionals disagree over what motivation is, what affects it, how the process operates,
its effects on learning and performance, and how it can be improved.1 Motivational theory strives to clarify the cognitive
and affective processes that initiate and sustain action by studying how these processes operate as goals, expectations,
attributions, values, and emotions.2 One of the most important processes is self-efficacy and the belief that one can be
successful.3 Self-efficacy motivates behavior primarily through perseverance4 and supports one of the components of grit.
Self-concept comprises perceptions of personal competence in general, or in a domain like academic, social, or motor
skills while self-efficacy refers to personal belief that one is able to learn or perform.5 Motivation is presently an important
issue, as the National Research Council estimates that as many as 50 percent of high school students are disengaged and
bored. Motivation and the desire to learn decreases as one progresses through school. We trust this is not true in instrumental
music.
Achieving competence is more than establishing teacher–student rapport; parents, the community, private teachers,
and the school administration all are involved. Differences in the community and school cultures shape the conduct of
instruction, affecting the rehearsal situation, as well as the priority of objectives, standards, and teaching strategies. Group
motivation may be more important in instrumental music than in math and language arts classes and it may well be the
most important ability a teacher can possess. Because group motivation is greatly influenced by each individual’s motivation,
it is impossible to separate the two.
The normal research strategy to test the effect of interventions to improve motivation seems to be declining in favor
of identifying which cognitive components affect competence. These components include maintenance of the working
memory, incentives, task-switching, selective attention, episodic memory, decision-making, social awareness, self-
efficacy, power, and more. Educators have added soft skills to desired outcomes that include the ability to accept feedback,
to work collaboratively, manage time, communicate, be flexible, and relate to others. Music which includes soft and
hard skills is a candidate to be included as one of the nonacademic measures to be used in judging school performance.
Soft skills also include emotional intelligence, social and emotional learning, the personal qualities of character, virtue,
trust, and truth as well as non-cognitive skills.
Goal Orientation
The study of individual motivation is currently centered on “goal orientation theory,” a way of understanding motivation
that provides a framework for the students’ motivational orientations as well as for the learning environment, to attain
cognitive, affective, and behavioral goals. Having clear and well-understood goals by every member of a class has been
established as a critical component in education. Goals are critical because they organize, encourage control, and direct
action. A student’s goal to have a “perfect” lesson requires him or her to organize a practice schedule, to control it by
staying focused on the most difficult material, and to direct action into daily practicing. When the goal is attained, the
student experiences a sense of competence and avoids all of the negatives that accompany a feeling of incompetence.
Motivation is a psychological construct which attempts to answer why people do what they do. In the twenty-first
century there is more emphasis on cognition as opposed to innate drives. Motivation scholars desire to understand the
TEACHING AND THE ROLE OF MOTIVATION 13
mind as beliefs, values, attitudes, and intentions explain much of human behavior. Conscious intentional behavior is
based on goals with the cognitive and metacognitive processes of planning, evaluating, strategizing, making decisions,
and monitoring one’s progress. Thus, intrinsically motivated individuals see themselves as the cause of their own behavior,
in charge of their life. The goals and aims that individuals strive to attain are related to their identity, self-concept, self-
efficacy, and what they believe is possible for them. Goal orientation theory is designed to explain competence–
incompetence and achievement in terms of self-theories and self-efficacy. Both of these insightful theories help capture
much of what occurs or should occur in the music teaching-learning situation.
Carol Dweck’s motivation research found that the American population is about equally divided about what they
believe motivates their desire to earn. About 40 percent of the population desires mastery of subject matter and seeks
challenging tasks despite the possibility of failure. These individuals sign up for extra instruction in their weak areas and
receive more satisfaction in individually mastering a task than in attaining recognition for it. A second group of individuals
(another 40 percent) focuses on performance goals. These individuals are motivated to perform better than others and
to win at competitions; they avoid any necessary extra instruction and work. They cram for examinations, select easy
tasks over challenging ones, and avoid situations where they won’t look good. Individuals in this second group are
excellent at rationalizing failure. A third group, about 20 percent of the population, is related to the second group.
Individuals in this group either have no desire to achieve or perform or they shift back and forth from one orientation
to the other; their focus is on performance-avoidance goals, that is, avoiding any tasks that demonstrate low or inferior
ability.
Dweck’s research is fascinating; why can’t we inspire all students to have a mastery orientation? Dweck suggests
that change is possible, but slow and difficult. Everyone uses both mastery and performance when the occasion calls;
what is desired is for the emphasis to be on mastery. When success in change has been possible, subjects reflected on
strategies used, and learned how, what kind, and when to seek help. Some of this may be genetic as with the Big Five.
(Researchers presently believe that about 40 percent of the competency in the Big Five is heritable. These five relate
to personality and are: openness to experience, conscientiousness, extraversion, agreeableness, and neuroticism.) The
hope is that better teaching will facilitate change, providing better feedback, teaching for understanding, capitalizing on
the benefits from failure, and providing for second chances.
Self-theories
A clear example of self-theories affecting motivation can be found in beliefs about intelligence. Mastery or growth students
believe that IQ is changeable—i.e., that they can improve—whereas performance students believe that IQ or a skill is fixed
and that they must do the best they can with the intelligence they inherited. A similar and perhaps more extreme example
in regard to musical aptitude is the belief that one either has or does not have a “talent” for music, and not having “talent”
is often an excuse used by those who fail to achieve competence or drop out of instrumental music instruction. The
implication of this theory for instrumental music teachers is that members of performing groups are or should be primarily
mastery students who believe that competence in band and orchestra is due to effort more than ability. When mastery
students “mess up,” they willingly accept and seek help; they practice, participate in sectionals, and solicit music that is
even more challenging, within reason, than they are expected to know—all to ensure success. Selecting the “just-right”
challenging music is what educators call the zone of proximal development, after a theory of Lev Vygotsky. Hattie and
Yates state that “we are motivated by knowledge gaps, but put off by knowledge chasms.”6 Practicing “just-right” music
is what motivation is all about. Lori Custodero found that four- and five-year-olds can become deeply involved with
music accompanied with a high self-concept, a perceived challenge, and active engagement.7 They reflect on their
performance, and self-criticize. Growth mindset seems to be related to social awareness, self-efficacy, and self-management.
These students come to school prepared (self-management). They see themselves being all they can be.
If performance students “mess up,” they attribute such failure to a lack of talent, to bad luck, to teacher prejudice or
incompetence, or to a host of other rationalizations. They will also attempt to find ways to avoid being put in the same
situation a second time. An understanding of self-theories in motivation helps teachers to recognize and make use of
the students’ reactions as fitting one of these three self-theories in motivation. Successful teaching encourages students
to think like mastery students, minimizing “cramming” before a concert. If the teacher criticizes mastery students on a
difficult task, the students think that the teacher believes they have the skill and competence to succeed. If the teacher
praises mastery students on an easy task, these students will think the teacher believes they have minimal ability and
competence, and intrinsic motivation is weakened. Praise on simple tasks is counterproductive. The insightful teacher
needs to observe all students to see whether they attend carefully to instructions, identify tasks, mentally organize, rehearse,
mark their music, check for understanding, and ask for guidance. Teacher comments on these observations reinforce
mastery learning. (A little performance or fixed mindset can be helpful in performance situations, growth becomes less
important.)
There is mixed evidence on successful teaching of growth mindset. The student and teacher must both be able to
identify during feedback learning strategies used and desired. Educators call this self-assessment or metacognition. Other
14 THE FOUNDATIONS
conditions must be aligned as well. For instance, it is important for students to believe that they are in charge of their
own learning and that each has practicing choices.
The research of Angela Duckworth on “grit” relates to mastery learning, in that grit is enhanced by the same
strategies. Grit is having passion for a goal, and the persistence necessary for its successful attainment. Students must
believe that if they exert sufficient effort they can become competent in goals they value. Grit and mastery learning are
basic to learning musical skills as practice is necessary; whether 10,000 hours are necessary for most of us is another
matter, but skills require a lot. Successful instrumental students obviously have grit, whether “it” is sufficient and of the
right kind to maximize motivation and should be encouraged is a teaching decision. With mastery learning and grit,
both desirable, educators and others want to improve them and measure them. Self-assessment is a possibility but not a
strong tool. All parties must agree on the meaning of each word.8 Teaching involves praise, which is often inappropriate
in elementary music. Alfie Kohn asserts that praise diminishes intrinsic motivation. Praising student abilities, especially
group praise such as “I like the way you are singing,” is a double negative. It puts students in a fixed mindset and
students come to believe that their effort is to please the teacher, not their own learning. Hattie and Yates (2014) found
that praise has no positive impact on learning. Praising talent, “you’re so musical,” drives students to adopting a performance
mindset.
PART II: MOTIVATION STRATEGIES IN MUSIC

Paul Evans and Gary McPherson9 conducted a ten-year study of children’s musical identity, their instrumental practice,
and subsequent achievement and motivation for playing music. The independent variable was the student’s self-response
prior to the treatment, aged 7–9, as to how long they thought they would continue to play their instrument which is
a measure of musical identity. The sample size was 157 students throughout Australia. Parents reported on the practice
habits of their child for the first three years. Performance was measured by the Watkins–Farnum Performance Test. The
researchers were also interested in sight-reading, aural skills, and improvisation. Those with a long-term view practiced
more (at least for the first three years), had higher achievement, and remained longer in an instrumental music program.
The authors argue that having a sense of where their future learning might take them was more important than practice
and self-regulation. Growth mindset is based on convincing students that mastery is possible, but it takes effort. The
research results reported here are based on valid research on instrumental music students in Australia and Great Britain,
and should apply to some U.S. programs. They found that students aged 5–7 had developed an ability to understand
and articulate their present identities, values, and abilities which were important as practice may not be inherently enjoyable
or intrinsically motivating per se.10 The culture was important, as students attending schools with an enriched band
program scored 2.6 times higher on the Australian Music Examinations Board.
There is similarity to the work of Duckworth, who studied cadets who might have dropped out of West Point.
The questions that predicted dropout at West Point had the responses “I finish whatever I begin” and “setbacks don’t
discourage me.” The cadet responded with either “not at all like me,” or “very much like me.” To determine a student’s
self-regulation in music education, McPherson asked these questions: “When I’m practicing, I prefer to be reminded,”
“When I’m practicing, I think about other things,” “When I practice, I run through pieces,” and “I don’t always make
myself practice when I should.” McPherson’s interest in self-regulation was in long-term musical identity which he
found to have 11 dimensions: persistence, planning, practice management, anxiety, failure avoidance, uncertain control,
disengagement, self-efficacy, mastery orientation, valuing of music, and self-handicapping.
Age does make a difference. Teachers of the very young need to be warm and sympathetic. Gradually this particular
support is withdrawn as students assume responsibility for their own learning. Developing and sustaining motivation
may be one of the most difficult aspects of learning to play a musical instrument, as skills and abilities develop slowly
and only with considerable effort, compared to expectations of themselves and their parents. Making music is intrinsically
enjoyable and linked to one’s social identity and sense of self. One hopes for practicing passion and persistence as reported
by adolescents with computer games. McPherson and O’Neill (2010) found that students in Western countries rated
their abilities in music much lower than their abilities in other subjects, and that perception of competence declines
faster in music than for other subjects throughout adolescence. In a ranking of music with other subjects with other
countries, the U.S. ranks at the bottom on values and is tied with two other countries in task difficulty. Students perceive
the cost in terms of effort, anxiety, and stress. Values from early life are relatively resilient.
Motivation in middle school accounts for as much variance in one’s high school grades as do middle school grades.
Sixty-nine percent of these students say that schools fail to motivate them. Thus, this percentage represents performance
belief, and not a belief in self-motivation on subjects of importance. The kind of music a child plays and listens to
contributes to the way s/he sees himself/herself and the role of music in their social world. Musical tastes are important.
Self-esteem is related to motivation but not to achievement. In the UK, 48 percent of 5- and 6-year-olds express an
interest in playing an instrument; by the age of 7 it has dropped to 25 percent; and at age 11, only 4 percent.11 Ability
and effort seem about the same until the age of 11 or 12. At this age students understand that those with less ability
have to try harder, with the accompanying understanding that performance on examinations is due to amount of effort.12
In adolescence, the teen brain is uniquely wired for sensation behaviors.
Self-efficacy, including Self-concept, Self-esteem, and Self-regulation in Music
Self-concept
Playing an instrument is an individual competency, and the student’s perception of how well he or she can learn is
important in self-motivation. Motivational psychologists discuss the desire to learn in terms of self-concept, the belief
one has in one’s own general competence. Often self-concept is limited to whether individuals believe themselves to
have talent, and, in this respect, self-concept is directly related to performance goals.
Self-esteem
While perceptions of competence are based on cognitive judgments of skill, knowledge, and abilities, self-esteem is the
student’s emotional reaction to his or her own competence. Self-esteem (or self-worth) affects learning, as a student’s
positive perception (attribution) of competence helps that student surmount difficulties and sustain motivation, thus
contributing to mastery learning. The student’s perception of what constitutes competence will largely determine his or
her level of aspiration for both individual and group goals.
Self-regulation, Self-control, or Self-efficacy

Albert Bandura (1997) promoted the concept of self-efficacy, which deemphasizes the importance of natural ability.
Much of the work of Gary McPherson is based on Bandura’s self-efficacy. Bandura believes that students’ mental effort
should focus on the fundamentals of learning, and he argues that learning is not primarily influenced by environment
(socioeconomic situation and more) or inner impulses (talent), but rather by a student’s ability to reflect, be proactive,
be organized, and be self-regulating. Thus, Bandura’s concept of self-efficacy is similar to a mastery orientation in self-
theories. It determines how individuals feel, think, behave, and motivate themselves to master challenging tasks. Self-
efficacy is negatively affected by stress. One’s experience, role models, peer group, and emotional state influence the
approach one takes to any task in life. One is not born with a sense of self but learns that actions produce effects. This
learning continues throughout life, with different priorities becoming important at different stages in life. As one ages,
life requires different types of competencies that, in turn, require further development of self-efficacy.
Students often consciously decide on the extent to which they can be successful and whether the goal is worth the
effort that will be required. Self-efficacy depends not only on motivation but also on whether one already has a reservoir
of knowledge and skills that will make achieving the goal possible. When the goal seems attractive and attainable, the
task itself becomes motivating and one experiences “flow.” Student violinists might hear Joshua Bull perform a
Beethoven concerto and be inspired (self-efficacy) to apply their present knowledge and skills to learning that same
concerto. The students’ organizing, reflecting, and regulating are aided when the teacher provides appropriate feedback
and helps establish intermediate performance goals that are challenging yet feasible. The basic premise of self-regulation
is that the students take control of their own learning; the terms self-efficacy, self-concept, self-regulation, and self-
control, as used in the literature on motivation, all refer to the various ways in which students: (1) analyze the task, the
environment, and the resources required (including the needed time for learning); (2) adopt appropriate strategies; (3)
understand their own tolerance and persistence levels; and (4) judge the tasks to be important. These various mental
appraisals should become habitual and should occur almost automatically.
Total self-learning in music is rare and, despite self-learning theories, teachers and critics retain a vital role in providing
feedback, identifying errors and misconceptions, and originating new learning and new techniques. Music majors
understand the importance of continued private instruction and the role of coaches, along with self-motivation (hard
work). And, to repeat, musical competence is also shaped by the influence of students’ backgrounds, the environment,
teachers, peers, parents, the community, and more.
The Instrumental Music Classroom

Developing pride in a musical organization is an important component in motivation. There need be nothing “second
class” about school ensembles. Good music can and should be performed well at any age—having challenging musical
standards (an aspect of motivation) is a critical component of being an effective teacher. It is simply not true, however,
that good music in itself furnishes sufficient motivation for students. The teacher must understand the students and also
his or her own role in helping students take responsibility for their own learning. This idea is not terribly surprising to
a student in instrumental music. In other school subjects, ideas about motivation and self-efficacy have altered teachers’
16 THE FOUNDATIONS
perceptions of their responsibility and relationship to students. These motivational theories have been successfully applied
to individuals; presently the school reform movement is advocating the use of these same principles throughout entire
classes and schools. They are asking all faculty members to understand self-theories and to use them to establish challenging
goals, to focus on the needs and backgrounds of individual students, and to apply mastery learning and self-efficacy to
entire classrooms.
The one-on-one relationships established in the rehearsal situation depend on the principles of motivation that are,
in turn, dependent on students having certain musical knowledge and skills. Any music teaching, whether of an individual
or a group, has as its aim the development of musical independence, which consists of knowledge, good practice habits,
technical proficiency, and musical understanding. To accomplish this goal in a group situation, both individual and
group goals are necessary, as are the means to attain these goals. The following pages contain suggestions that can aid
students in achieving self-motivation and group motivation that will work in various situations. These suggestions are
divided into the categories of intrinsic and extrinsic motivation.
Intrinsic Motivation
The study of motivation consists of identifying why individuals invest personal resources in attaining a goal. The reasons
are multiple and change over time, but are usually categorized as being either intrinsic or extrinsic. Extrinsic motivation
is easier to understand; it consists of desire for a tangible reward—a prize, a compliment, first chair, or the avoidance of
an unpleasant situation, and so forth. As individuals vary in motivational strengths and in the value they place on various
rewards, individual observation is required to determine the motivational strength of external rewards for each student.
Intrinsic motivation, on the other hand, derives from the experience—emotional, mental, or physical—that occurs within
the individual. There is no apparent external reward to be gained from the effort expended.
High Quality Music

The music itself should be the central motivating force for any musical learning, though it is rarely the only factor. To
furnish genuine motivation, music must be of high quality for poor music soon becomes tiresome and boring. Also,
poor music is so easily available to students on CDs, iPods, or television that they do not need to participate in school
music groups in order to find it. Teachers are tempted to make one of two mistakes regarding the quality of the music
to be used. The first is to use popular commercial music on the assumption that it will interest students. The fallacy
in this approach is that the basic goal of developing a discriminating love of good music can never be reached, even
though students may acquire considerable performing skill. The second mistake is to set unrealistically high standards
for the music used. To use high-quality music does not necessarily mean to use only classic literature music. The skillful
teacher begins where the students are, selecting music that will appeal to them at their present level of understanding
and gradually introducing them to more sophisticated music as they become ready for it. Understanding the meaning
of the music is as important as cognitive and psychomotor readiness. Using a variety of types of music is more satisfying
than a steady diet of one kind, and students can learn to judge between varying qualities. As long as the music is well
written, challenges the students with something new, has genuine musical worth, and is not trite or shallow—in short,
as long as it broadens the students’ appreciation—it is good music and should be used.
A Wide Musical Repertoire

New music is the most obvious way to maintain interest. Even if the individual or the group is not able to perform
frequently rehearsed music perfectly, there comes a time when a change is necessary. Nothing brings on boredom faster
than working continually on the same few pieces or trudging wearily over the same exercise until all is perfected. If a
long period of time is needed to learn a piece well, the selection is probably too difficult. The exercises should also be
of varied levels of difficulty. This wide variety not only helps maintain interest but also can contribute to the sight-
reading and interpretive abilities of the learners. This principle holds for both individual and group instruction. The
inclusion of jazz and mariachi music, along with instruction in improvisation are examples of methods for changing the
pace of rehearsals. Limiting students’ musical experiences to a single method or style contributes to a loss of interest.
A Clear and Attainable Goal

All students should know why they are practicing and what their objective is. Similarly, teachers should make clear in
rehearsals where they are leading the group. Like the proverbial carrot in front of the donkey, the goal should be visible;
unlike the carrot, it should be attainable. Teachers must have long-range goals that shape their planning and programming,
but short-range goals are also necessary.
For the greatest effectiveness, a goal must be specific and cooperatively established with the students. If the group
is working toward a concert performance, members will put forth more effort if the date has been set and the music
selected. When time is given to drills, sight-reading, listening, or factual or technical learning, students will respond
more readily if they know the purpose of the activity and its priority in the time available. The goal should be modeled
for students to help them understand both how it should be accomplished and what the desired performance level is.
It is especially important that skills be correctly modeled, as students are inclined to decide based on their own level of
mastery. With the clarification of these goals and skills, individual and group errors can be used as an opportunity for
learning.
Technical Drills Using Real Music

Scales, studies, and exercises should anticipate the difficult spots in the music being learned. Until students encounter a
particular technical problem in a piece of music, they will see little reason for practicing exercises designed to give them
that facility. Treat technical studies like vitamins that are to be taken as needed but never as the main ingredient of the
diet. As with all rules, the exceptions are many—for example, producing long tones and extending students’ range should
be daily habits, as are warming up and warming down.
This is not to suggest that technical studies be omitted—far from it. Because technical drills focus on particular kinds
of learning, they can help students become technically proficient much more rapidly than they would if only musical
pieces were practiced. Artists continue to practice exercises in the classic texts for their instrument. Drill needs to be
meaningful and relevant, but if omitted altogether, the individual and the group will suffer.
Musicianship Skills and Factual Knowledge

Factual knowledge about music and the ability to perform skills of musicianship, such as transposing, reading several
clefs, and improvising, are both goals of the music program and real motivators. Like good music, skill and knowledge
have intrinsic value and furnish valid goals for motivation. Students like to know, for instance, the problems that double-
reed players have with reeds—how difficult they are to make, how scarce good cane is, and how much adjusting is
necessary. They can be interested and inspired by details about composers and about the music—how a fugue is put
together, the background for a Wagner composition, or the type of social system in which Haydn lived and worked.
The more students know and the more they can do in any area, the more they are likely to retain a lively, active interest
in it. Encourage students to enroll in Advanced Placement (AP) music theory. Teaching appropriate concepts from AP
theory to the entire ensemble is valuable, as all students understand the relevance of AP courses.
A Tradition of Excellence
Music programs with a reputation for quality provide a momentum that motivates students to practice and minimizes
discipline problems. When there is an established standard to attain, students usually accept the challenge. High school
students are idealistic and take pride in doing things well. They can derive satisfaction from meeting high standards in
both personal and group achievement; they develop loyalties toward individuals and organizations that expect much of
them and enjoy living up to those expectations. Students taking private lessons seek out demanding teachers, knowing
that their effort will be rewarded with higher skills and a more successful performance.
A tradition of excellence is not established overnight. If a teacher moves into a school without such a tradition, he
or she must build it by starting with the younger students. Older players unaccustomed to high standards will resist
drastic reforms and may retain their habits of sloppy practice or halfhearted participation. Sometimes such students respond
to the challenge from younger players who begin to surpass them and occupy first-chair positions. Sometimes the best
way of dealing with these students is to be patient and wait for them to graduate.
Independent Musical Activities

Try to arrange schedules and assignments to make it possible for students to work together toward a common goal.
Practicing alone can be boring and take considerable self-discipline, whereas working on parts with other students is
much more enjoyable, especially for students who play such non-melody instruments as tubas and horns. Two or three
students practicing together, all on the same part or each on a different part, can increase the pleasure of the participants
as well as help develop musicianship.
Supply duets, trios, and other kinds of ensemble music to interested students. Whether the group remains together
for a long period or simply reads through the music a few times, such activity should be encouraged. A good library of
ensemble music representing a variety of instrumental combinations and levels of difficulty is essential in a good instrumental
program.
Students should be encouraged to study piano, guitar, or a second instrument because variety makes music more
fun and because of the valuable insights obtained by viewing the same musical problems through a different lens.
Small Ensembles
The small chamber group presents the greatest musical challenge, the best training, the most individual responsibility,
and the highest musical pleasure of any activity. Special problems involved in establishing small ensembles include
scheduling, grouping students of similar levels of ability, and helping the groups become independent of teacher supervision.
To create an ensemble of students whose levels of ability are comparable is perhaps possible only in a large school. In
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CHAPTER X.
That same evening Randal heard from Levy (at whose house he
staid late) of that self-introduction to Violante which (thanks to his
skeleton key) Peschiera had contrived to effect; and the Count
seemed more than sanguine—he seemed assured as to the full and
speedy success of his matrimonial enterprise. “Therefore,” said Levy,
“I trust I may very soon congratulate you on the acquisition of your
family estates.”
“Strange!” answered Randal, “strange that my fortunes seem so
bound up with the fate of a foreigner like Beatrice di Negra and her
connection with Frank Hazeldean.” He looked up at the clock as he
spoke, and added—
“Frank, by this time, has told his father of his engagement.”
“And you feel sure that the Squire cannot be coaxed into consent?”
“No; but I feel sure that the Squire will be so choleric at the first
intelligence, that Frank will not have the self-control necessary for
coaxing; and, perhaps, before the Squire can relent upon this point,
he may, by some accident, learn his grievances on another, which
would exasperate him still more.”
“Ay, I understand—the post obit?”
Randal nodded.
“And what then?” asked Levy.
“The next of kin to the lands of Hazeldean may have his day.”
The Baron smiled.
“You have good prospects in that direction, Leslie: look now to
another. I spoke to you of the borough of Lansmere. Your patron,
Audley Egerton, intends to stand for it.”
Randal’s heart had of late been so set upon other and more
avaricious schemes, that a seat in Parliament had sunk into a
secondary object; nevertheless, his ambitious and all-grasping nature
felt a bitter pang, when he heard that Egerton thus interposed
between himself and any chance of advancement.
“So!” he muttered sullenly—“so. This man, who pretends to be my
benefactor, squanders away the wealth of my forefathers—throws me
penniless on the world; and, while still encouraging me to exertion
and public life, robs me himself of—”
“No!” interrupted Levy—“not robs you; we may prevent that. The
Lansmere interest is not so strong in the borough as Dick Avenel’s.”
“But I cannot stand against Egerton.”
“Assuredly not—you may stand with him.”
“How?”
“Dick Avenel will never suffer Egerton to come in; and though he
cannot, perhaps, carry two of his own politics, he can split his votes
upon you.”
Randal’s eyes flashed. He saw at a glance, that if Avenel did not
overrate the relative strength of parties, his seat could be secured.
“But,” he said, “Egerton has not spoken to me on such a subject;
nor can you expect that he would propose to me to stand with him, if
he foresaw the chance of being ousted by the very candidate he
himself introduced.”
“Neither he nor his party will anticipate that possibility. If he asks
you, agree to stand—leave the rest to me.”
“You must hate Egerton bitterly,” said Randal; “for I am not vain
enough to think that you thus scheme but from pure love to me.”
“The motives of men are intricate and complicated,” answered
Levy, with unusual seriousness. “It suffices to the wise to profit by
the actions, and leave the motives in shade.”
There was silence for some minutes. Then the two drew closer
towards each other, and began to discuss details in their joint
designs.
Randal walked home slowly. It was a cold moonlit night. Young
idlers of his own years and rank passed him by, on their way from
the haunts of social pleasure. They were yet in the first fair holiday of
life. Life’s holiday had gone from him for ever. Graver men, in the
various callings of masculine labour—professions, trade, the state—
passed him also. Their steps might be sober, and their faces
careworn; but no step had the furtive stealth of his—no face the same
contracted, sinister, suspicious gloom. Only once, in a lonely
thoroughfare, and on the opposite side of the way, fell a foot-fall, and
glanced an eye, that seemed to betray a soul in sympathy with
Randal Leslie’s.
And Randal, who had heeded none of the other passengers by the
way, as if instinctively, took note of this one. His nerves crisped at
the noiseless slide of that form, as it stalked on from lamp to lamp,
keeping pace with his own. He felt a sort of awe, as if he had beheld
the wraith of himself; and ever, as he glanced suspiciously at the
stranger, the stranger glanced at him. He was inexpressibly relieved
when the figure turned down another street and vanished.
That man was a felon, as yet undetected. Between him and his kind
there stood but a thought—a veil airspun, but impassable, as the veil
of the Image at Sais.
And thus moved and thus looked Randal Leslie, a thing of dark
and secret mischief—within the pale of the law, but equally removed
from man by the vague consciousness that at his heart lay that which
the eyes of man would abhor and loathe. Solitary amidst the vast city,
and on through the machinery of Civilisation, went the still spirit of
Intellectual Evil.
CHAPTER XI.
Early the next morning Randal received two notes—one from
Frank, written in great agitation, begging Randal to see and
propitiate his father, whom he feared he had grievously offended;
and then running off, rather incoherently, into protestations that his
honour as well as his affections were engaged irrevocably to Beatrice,
and that her, at least, he could never abandon.
And the second note was from the Squire himself—short, and far
less cordial than usual—requesting Mr Leslie to call on him.
Randal dressed in haste, and went at once to Limmer’s hotel.
He found the Parson with Mr Hazeldean, and endeavouring in
vain to soothe him. The Squire had not slept all night, and his
appearance was almost haggard.
“Oho! Mr young Leslie,” said he, throwing himself back in his chair
as Randal entered—“I thought you were a friend—I thought you were
Frank’s adviser. Explain, sir; explain.”
“Gently, my dear Mr Hazeldean,” said the Parson. “You do but
surprise and alarm Mr Leslie. Tell him more distinctly what he has to
explain.”
Squire.—“Did you or did you not tell me or Mrs Hazeldean, that
Frank was in love with Violante Rickeybockey?”
Randal, (as in amaze.)—“I! Never, sir! I feared, on the contrary,
that he was somewhat enamoured of a very different person. I hinted
at that possibility. I could not do more, for I did not know how far
Frank’s affections were seriously engaged. And indeed, sir, Mrs
Hazeldean, though not encouraging the idea that your son could
marry a foreigner and a Roman Catholic, did not appear to consider
such objections insuperable, if Frank’s happiness were really at
stake.”
Here the poor Squire gave way to a burst of passion, that involved,
in one tempest, Frank, Randal, Harry herself, and the whole race of
foreigners, Roman Catholics, and women. While the Squire himself
was still incapable of hearing reason, the Parson, taking aside
Randal, convinced himself that the whole affair, so far as Randal was
concerned, had its origin in a very natural mistake; and that while
that young gentleman had been hinting at Beatrice, Mrs Hazeldean
had been thinking of Violante. With considerable difficulty he
succeeded in conveying this explanation to the Squire, and somewhat
appeasing his wrath against Randal. And the Dissimulator, seizing
his occasion, then expressed so much grief and astonishment at
learning that matters had gone as far as the Parson informed him—
that Frank had actually proposed to Beatrice, been accepted, and
engaged himself, before even communicating with his father; he
declared so earnestly, that he could never conjecture such evil—that
he had had Frank’s positive promise to take no step without the
sanction of his parents; he professed such sympathy with the
Squire’s wounded feelings, and such regret at Frank’s involvement,
that Mr Hazeldean at last yielded up his honest heart to his consoler
—and griping Randal’s hand, said, “Well, well, I wronged you—beg
your pardon. What now is to be done?”
“Why, you cannot consent to this marriage—impossible,” replied
Randal; “and we must hope therefore to influence Frank by his sense
of duty.”
“That’s it,” said the Squire; “for I’ll not give way. Pretty pass things
have come to, indeed! A widow too, I hear. Artful jade—thought, no
doubt, to catch a Hazeldean of Hazeldean. My estates go to an
outlandish Papistical set of mongrel brats! No, no, never!”
“But,” said the Parson, mildly, “perhaps we may be unjustly
prejudiced against this lady. We should have consented to Violante—
why not to her? She is of good family?”
“Certainly,” said Randal.
“And good character?”
Randal shook his head, and sighed. The Squire caught him roughly
by the arm—“Answer the Parson!” cried he, vehemently.
“Indeed, sir, I cannot speak ill of the character of a woman, who
may, too, be Frank’s wife; and the world is ill-natured, and not to be
believed. But you can judge for yourself, my dear Mr Hazeldean. Ask
your brother whether Madame di Negra is one whom he would
advise his nephew to marry.”
“My brother!” exclaimed the Squire furiously. “Consult my distant
brother on the affairs of my own son!”
“He is a man of the world,” put in Randal.
“And of feeling and honour,” said the Parson; “and, perhaps,
through him, we may be enabled to enlighten Frank, and save him
from what appears to be the snare of an artful woman.”
“Meanwhile,” said Randal, “I will seek Frank, and do my best with
him. Let me go now—I will return in an hour or so.”
“I will accompany you,” said the Parson.
“Nay, pardon me, but I think we two young men can talk more
openly without a third person, even so wise and kind as you.”
“Let Randal go,” growled the Squire. And Randal went.
He spent some time with Frank, and the reader will easily divine
how that time was employed. As he left Frank’s lodgings, he found
himself suddenly seized by the Squire himself.
“I was too impatient to stay at home and listen to the Parson’s
prosing,” said Mr Hazeldean, nervously. “I have shaken Dale off. Tell
me what has passed. Oh! don’t fear—I’m a man, and can bear the
worst.”
Randal drew the Squire’s arm within his, and led him into the
adjacent park.
“My dear sir,” said he, sorrowfully, “this is very confidential what I
am about to say. I must repeat it to you, because without such
confidence, I see not how to advise you on the proper course to take.
But if I betray Frank, it is for his good, and to his own father;—only
do not tell him. He would never forgive me—it would for ever destroy
my influence over him.”
“Go on, go on,” gasped the Squire; “speak out. I’ll never tell the
ungrateful boy that I learned his secrets from another.”
“Then,” said Randal, “the secret of his entanglement with Madame
di Negra is simply this—he found her in debt—nay, on the point of
being arrested—”
“Debt!—arrested! Jezabel!”
“And in paying the debt himself, and saving her from arrest, he
conferred on her the obligation which no woman of honour could
accept save from her affianced husband. Poor Frank!—if sadly taken
in, still we must pity and forgive him!”
Suddenly, to Randal’s great surprise, the Squire’s whole face
brightened up.
“I see, I see!” he exclaimed, slapping his thigh. “I have it—I have it.
’Tis an affair of money! I can buy her off. If she took money from
him, the mercenary, painted baggage! why, then, she’ll take it from
me. I don’t care what it costs—half my fortune—all! I’d be content
never to see Hazeldean Hall again, if I could save my son, my own
son, from disgrace and misery; for miserable he will be, when he
knows he has broken my heart and his mother’s. And for a creature
like that! My boy, a thousand hearty thanks to you. Where does the
wretch live? I’ll go to her at once.” And as he spoke, the Squire
actually pulled out his pocket-book and began turning over and
counting the bank-notes in it.
Randal at first tried to combat this bold resolution on the part of
the Squire; but Mr Hazeldean had seized on it with all the obstinacy
of his straightforward English mind. He cut Randal’s persuasive
eloquence off in the midst.
“Don’t waste your breath. I’ve settled it; and if you don’t tell me
where she lives, ’tis easily found out, I suppose.”
Randal mused a moment. “After all,” thought he, “why not? He
will be sure so to speak as to enlist her pride against himself, and to
irritate Frank to the utmost. Let him go.”
Accordingly, he gave the information required; and, insisting with
great earnestness on the Squire’s promise not to mention to Madame
di Negra his knowledge of Frank’s pecuniary aid, (for that would
betray Randal as the informant); and satisfying himself as he best
might with the Squire’s prompt assurance, “that he knew how to
settle matters, without saying why or wherefore, as long as he opened
his purse wide enough,” he accompanied Mr Hazeldean back into the
streets, and there left him—fixing an hour in the evening for an
interview at Limmer’s, and hinting that it would be best to have that
interview without the presence of the Parson. “Excellent good man,”
said Randal, “but not with sufficient knowledge of the world for
affairs of this kind, which you understand so well.”
“I should think so,” quoth the Squire, who had quite recovered his
good-humour. “And the Parson is as soft as buttermilk. We must be
firm here—firm, sir.” And the Squire struck the end of his stick on
the pavement, nodded to Randal, and went on to Mayfair as sturdily
and as confidently as if to purchase a prize cow at a cattle show.
CHAPTER XII.
“Bring the light nearer,” said John Burley—“nearer still.”
Leonard obeyed, and placed the candle on a little table by the sick
man’s bedside.
Burley’s mind was partially wandering; but there was method in
his madness. Horace Walpole said that “his stomach would survive
all the rest of him.” That which in Burley survived the last was his
quaint wild genius. He looked wistfully at the still flame of the
candle: “It lives ever in the air!” said he.
“What lives ever?”
Burley’s voice swelled—“Light!” He turned from Leonard, and
again contemplated the little flame. “In the fixed star, in the Will-o’-
the-wisp, in the great sun that illumes half a world, or the farthing
rushlight by which the ragged student strains his eyes—still the same
flower of the elements. Light in the universe, thought in the soul—ay
—ay—Go on with the simile. My head swims. Extinguish the light!
You cannot; fool, it vanishes from your eye, but it is still in the space.
Worlds must perish, suns shrivel up, matter and spirit both fall into
nothingness, before the combinations whose union makes that little
flame, which the breath of a babe can restore to darkness, shall lose
the power to unite into light once more. Lose the power!—no, the
necessity:—it is the one Must in creation. Ay, ay, very dark riddles
grow clear now—now when I could not cast up an addition sum in
the baker’s bill! What wise man denied that two and two made four?
Do they not make four? I can’t answer him. But I could answer a
question that some wise men have contrived to make much knottier.”
He smiled softly, and turned his face for some minutes to the wall.
This was the second night on which Leonard had watched by his
bedside, and Burley’s state had grown rapidly worse. He could not
last many days, perhaps many hours. But he had evinced an emotion
beyond mere delight at seeing Leonard again. He had since then
been calmer, more himself. “I feared I might have ruined you by my
bad example,” he said, with a touch of humour that became pathos as
he added, “That idea preyed on me.”
“No, no; you did me great good.”
“Say that—say it often,” said Burley, earnestly; “it makes my heart
feel so light.”
He had listened to Leonard’s story with deep interest, and was
fond of talking to him of little Helen. He detected the secret at the
young man’s heart, and cheered the hopes that lay there, amidst
fears and sorrows. Burley never talked seriously of his repentance; it
was not in his nature to talk seriously of the things which he felt
solemnly. But his high animal spirits were quenched with the animal
power that fed them. Now, we go out of our sensual existence only
when we are no longer enthralled by the Present, in which the senses
have their realm. The sensual being vanishes when we are in the Past
or the Future. The Present was gone from Burley; he could no more
be its slave and its king.
It was most touching to see how the inner character of this man
unfolded itself, as the leaves of the outer character fell off and
withered—a character no one would have guessed in him—an
inherent refinement that was almost womanly; and he had all a
woman’s abnegation of self. He took the cares lavished on him so
meekly. As the features of the old man return in the stillness of death
to the aspect of youth—the lines effaced, the wrinkles gone—so, in
seeing Burley now, you saw what he had been in his spring of
promise. But he himself saw only what he had failed to be—powers
squandered—life wasted. “I once beheld,” he said, “a ship in a storm.
It was a cloudy, fitful day, and I could see the ship with all its masts
fighting hard for life and for death. Then came night, dark as pitch,
and I could only guess that the ship fought on. Towards the dawn the
stars grew visible, and once more I saw the ship—it was a wreck—it
went down just as the stars shone forth.”
When he had made that allusion to himself, he sate very still for
some time, then he spread out his wasted hands, and gazed on them,
and on his shrunken limbs. “Good,” said he, laughing low; “these
hands were too large and rude for handling the delicate webs of my
own mechanism, and these strong limbs ran away with me. If I had
been a sickly puny fellow, perhaps my mind would have had fair play.
There was too much of brute body here! Look at this hand now! you
can see the light through it! Good, good!”
Now, that evening, until he had retired to bed, Burley had been
unusually cheerful, and had talked with much of his old eloquence, if
with little of his old humour. Amongst other matters, he had spoken
with considerable interest of some poems and other papers in
manuscript which had been left in the house by a former lodger, and
which, the reader may remember, that Mrs Goodyer had urged him
in vain to read, in his last visit to her cottage. But then he had her
husband Jacob to chat with, and the spirit bottle to finish, and the
wild craving for excitement plucked his thoughts back to his London
revels. Now poor Jacob was dead, and it was not brandy that the sick
man drank from the widow’s cruise. And London lay afar amidst its
fogs, like a world resolved back into nebulæ. So to please his hostess
and distract his own solitary thoughts, he had condescended (just
before Leonard found him out) to peruse the memorials of a life
obscure to the world, and new to his own experience of coarse joys
and woes. “I have been making a romance, to amuse myself, from
their contents,” said he. “They may be of use to you, brother author. I
have told Mrs Goodyer to place them in your room. Amongst those
papers is a journal—a woman’s journal; it moved me greatly. A man
gets into another world, strange to him as the orb of Sirius, if he can
transport himself into the centre of a woman’s heart, and see the life
there, so wholly unlike our own. Things of moment to us, to it so
trivial; things trifling to us, to it so vast. There was this journal—in its
dates reminding me of stormy events of my own existence, and grand
doings in the world’s. And those dates there, chronicling but the
mysterious unrevealed record of some obscure loving heart! And in
that chronicle, O Sir Poet, there was as much genius, vigour of
thought, vitality of being, poured and wasted, as ever kind friend will
say was lavished on the rude outer world by big John Burley! Genius,
genius; are we all alike, then, save when we leash ourselves to some
matter-of-fact material, and float over the roaring seas on a wooden
plank or a herring tub?” And after he had uttered that cry of a secret
anguish, John Burley had begun to show symptoms of growing fever
and disturbed brain; and when they had got him into bed, he lay
there muttering to himself, until towards midnight he had asked
Leonard to bring the light nearer to him.
So now he again was quiet—with his face turned towards the wall;
and Leonard stood by the bedside sorrowfully, and Mrs Goodyer,
who did not heed Burley’s talk, and thought only of his physical state,
was dipping cloths into iced water to apply to his forehead. But as
she approached with these, and addressed him soothingly, Burley
raised himself on his arm, and waived aside the bandages. “I do not
need them,” said he, in a collected voice. “I am better now. I and that
pleasant light understand one another, and I believe all it tells me.
Pooh, pooh, I do not rave.” He looked so smilingly and so kindly into
her face, that the poor woman, who loved him as her own son, fairly
burst into tears. He drew her towards him and kissed her forehead.
“Peace, old fool,” said he fondly. “You shall tell anglers hereafter
how John Burley came to fish for the one-eyed perch which he never
caught; and how, when he gave it up at the last, his baits all gone,
and the line broken amongst the weeds, you comforted the baffled
man. There are many good fellows yet in the world who will like to
know that poor Burley did not die on a dunghill. Kiss me! Come, boy,
you too. Now, God bless you, I should like to sleep.” His cheeks were
wet with the tears of both his listeners, and there was a moisture in
his own eyes, which nevertheless beamed bright through the
moisture.
He laid himself down again, and the old woman would have
withdrawn the light. He moved uneasily. “Not that,” he murmured
—“light to the last!” And putting forth his wan hand, he drew aside
the curtain so that the light might fall full on his face. In a few
minutes he was asleep, breathing calmly and regularly as an infant.
The old woman wiped her eyes, and drew Leonard softly into the
adjoining room, in which a bed had been made up for him. He had
not left the house since he had entered it with Dr Morgan. “You are
young, sir,” said she with kindness, “and the young want sleep. Lie
down a bit: I will call you when he wakes.”
“No, I could not sleep,” said Leonard. “I will watch for you.”
The old woman shook her head. “I must see the last of him, sir; but
I know he will be angry when his eyes open on me, for he has grown
very thoughtful of others.”
“Ah, if he had but been as thoughtful of himself!” murmured
Leonard; and he seated himself by the table, on which, as he leaned
his elbow, he dislodged some papers placed there. They fell to the
ground with a dumb, moaning, sighing sound.
“What is that?” said he starting.
The old woman picked up the manuscripts and smoothed them
carefully.
“Ah, sir, he bade me place these papers here. He thought they
might keep you from fretting about him, in case you would sit up and
wake. And he had a thought of me, too; for I have so pined to find out
the poor young lady, who left them years ago. She was almost as dear
to me as he is; dearer perhaps until now—when—when—I am about
to lose him.”
Leonard turned from the papers, without a glance at their
contents: they had no interest for him at such a moment.
The hostess went on—
“Perhaps she is gone to heaven before him; she did not look like
one long for this world. She left us so suddenly. Many things of hers
besides these papers are still here; but I keep them aired and dusted,
and strew lavender over them, in case she ever come for them again.
You never heard tell of her, did you, sir?” she added, with great
simplicity, and dropping a half curtsey.
“Of her?—of whom?”
“Did not Mr John tell you her name—dear—dear;—Mrs Bertram.”
Leonard started;—the very name so impressed upon his memory
by Harley L’Estrange.
“Bertram!” he repeated. “Are you sure?”
“Oh yes, sir! And many years after she had left us, and we had
heard no more of her, there came a packet addressed to her here,
from over sea, sir. We took it in, and kept it, and John would break
the seal, to know if it would tell us anything about her; but it was all
in a foreign language like—we could not read a word.”
“Have you the packet? Pray show it to me. It may be of the greatest
value. To-morrow will do—I cannot think of that just now. Poor
Burley!”
Leonard’s manner indicated that he wished to talk no more, and to
be alone. So Mrs Goodyer left him, and stole back to Burley’s room
on tiptoe.
The young man remained in deep reverie for some moments.
“Light,” he murmured. “How often ‘Light’ is the last word of those
round whom the shades are gathering!”[31] He moved, and straight on
his view through the cottage lattice there streamed light, indeed—not
the miserable ray lit by a human hand—but the still and holy
effulgence of a moonlit heaven. It lay broad upon the humble floors—
pierced across the threshold of the death chamber, and halted clear
amidst its shadows.
Leonard stood motionless, his eye following the silvery silent
splendour.
“And,” he said inly—“and does this large erring nature, marred by
its genial faults—this soul which should have filled a land, as yon orb
the room, with a light that linked earth to heaven—does it pass away
into the dark, and leave not a ray behind? Nay, if the elements of
light are ever in the space, and when the flame goes out, return to the
vital air—so thought, once kindled, lives for ever around and about
us, a part of our breathing atmosphere. Many a thinker, many a poet,
may yet illume the world, from the thoughts which yon genius, that
will have no name, gave forth—to wander through air, and
recombine again in some new form of light.”
Thus he went on in vague speculations, seeking, as youth
enamoured of fame seeks too fondly, to prove that mind never works,
however erratically, in vain—and to retain yet, as an influence upon
earth, the soul about to soar far beyond the atmosphere where the
elements that make fame abide. Not thus had the dying man
interpreted the endurance of light and thought.
Suddenly, in the midst of his reverie, a low cry broke on his ear. He
shuddered as he heard, and hastened forebodingly into the adjoining
room. The old woman was kneeling by the bedside, and chafing
Burley’s hand—eagerly looking into his face. A glance sufficed to
Leonard. All was over. Burley had died in sleep—calmly, and without
a groan.
The eyes were half open, with that look of inexpressible softness
which death sometimes leaves; and still they were turned towards
the light; and the light burned clear. Leonard closed tenderly the
heavy lids; and, as he covered the face, the lips smiled a serene
farewell.
OUR LONDON COMMISSIONER.
NO. II.
In the northern outskirt of London, there is a dingy-looking, ill-
shaped building, on the bank of a narrow canal, where at one time,
not very long ago, real water fell in sparkling cascades, Trafalgars
were fought in veritable vessels, and, triumphant over all, radiant in
humour and motley, with wit at his fingers’ ends, and ineffable
character in his feet, laughed, hobbled, jeered, flouted, and
pirouetted the clown, Joseph Grimaldi. The audiences, in those days,
were partial to beer. Tobacco was a pleasant accompaniment to the
wonders of the scene. Great effect was produced by farces of a very
unsentimental kind; and the principal effort of the author was to
introduce as much bustle and as many kicks into his piece as he
could. A bloody nose secured three rounds of applause; a smack on
the cheek was a successful repartee; a coarse oath was only emphatic
—nobody blushed, everybody swore. There were fights in the pit, and
the police-office was near at hand. It was the one place of
entertainment for a poor and squalid district. Poverty and dirt went
there to forget themselves, and came away unimproved. It was
better, perhaps, than the beer-shop, certainly better than the prize-
fight, but not so good as the tea-garden and hop. This building is now
the Theatre Royal, Sadler’s Wells, presided over by one of the best
actors on the English stage, and ringing, night after night, to the
language of Shakspeare and Massinger. How does the audience
behave? Better than young gentlemen of the Guards at a concert of
sacred music; better than young ladies of fashion at a scientific
lecture. They don’t yawn, they don’t giggle, they don’t whisper to
each other at the finest passages; but there is intense interest—eyes,
heart, mind, all fixed on the wondrous evolvement of the story. They
stay, hour by hour, silent, absorbed, attentive, answering the touch of
the magician’s wand, warming into enthusiasm, or melting into
tears, with as fine an appreciation of the working of the play as if they
had studied the Greek drama, and been critics all their days. Are they
the same people, or the same class of people, who roared and rioted
in the pit in the days of the real water? Exactly the same. The boxes
are three shillings, the pit a shilling, the gallery a sixpence. There are
many fustian jackets in the pit, and in the gallery a sprinkling of shirt
sleeves. Masters of trades, and respectable shopkeepers, and
professional men, and their families are in the boxes; and Mr Phelps
is as great a benefactor to that neighbourhood as if he had
established a public park, or opened a lyceum for education. There is
a perceptible difference, we are told, in the manners of the district.
You can’t raise a man in any one department without lifting him up
in all. Improve his mind, you refine his character; teach him even
mathematics, he will learn politeness; give him good society, he will
cease to be coarse; introduce him to Shakspeare, Jonson, Beaumont,
Massinger, and Webster, he will be a gentleman. A man with friends
like these will not go to the tap of the Black Dog. Better spend his
sixpence at Sadler’s Wells, and learn what was going on in Rome in
the time of Coriolanus, or learn the thanklessness of sycophantic
friends in the Athenian Timon. With the bluff and brutal Henry VIII.
they are quite familiar, and form a very tolerable idea of a certain
pinchbeck cardinal’s pride, from the insolence of the overweening
Wolsey. That energy and honour overcome all impediments, they
have long discovered from the story of the Lady of Lyons, and the
grandeur of self-devotion in the noble aspirations of Ion. A world like
this opening to their eyes, reflects a pleasant light on the common
earth they inhabit. “One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.”
The same sentiment brings a big sob into their rough throats, and
swells the gentle bosom of the delicate young lady in the front row of
the dress circle. If the Queen were there, there would be a quivering
of the royal lip. Jack Wiggins, the tinman, cries as if he were flogged.
Let us off to see Sadler’s Wells, where a new play is to be acted, with
our old friend James VI. for its hero. A pretty hero for a play!—The
pedantic, selfish, ambitious, and cowardly son of Mary Stuart, who
kissed the hand reeking with his mother’s blood, and held out the
Scottish crown to be an awmous-dish, into which Elizabeth
disdainfully threw her niggard charity, like an old maid depositing a
farthing in the plate at the Magdalen Hospital door. This play is
improperly called a tragedy, because a few people happen to be killed
in the course of it. The foundation is decidedly comic—horribly,
grotesquely comic. There the laughter tries in vain to banish the
shudder, and between them a compound is created which we believe
to be new to the stage. The conventional tyrant of tragedy is entirely
done away with. There are no knittings of brows and crossings of
elbows, starts and struttings, such as we generally see made the
accompaniments of revenge and hatred. There is a low, selfish, cruel
nature, disguised in ludicrous repartee and jocular conversation—a
buffoon animated by the soul of Richard III., a harlequin’s lath tipt
with deadly poison—our ordinary ideas turned topsy-turvy, and
Polonius running his sword through Hamlet behind the arras.
Whether this historical view of James be correct or not, does not
matter to the play. It is the view chosen by the author on a
preponderating weight of evidence; and the point of his career
chosen for the development of these blacker portions of his
disposition is the Gowrie plot, where even the king’s adulators were
unable to hide the murmurs of the people, who certainly believed his
conduct to have been cruel and unjust.
Such a piece of acting as Mr Phelps’s presentment of James is
rarely seen on the stage. His command of the Scotch dialect is
wonderful in an Englishman; his walk, his look, his attitude, are as
palpable indications of character as the language he employs. There
is not a turn of his mouth, or a leer of his eye, that is not in harmony
with the general design. His pride, terror, abasement, doubt,
triumph, and final despair, are all given with a marvellous versatility,
which yet never trenches on the identity of the actor’s creation. But
touches are here and there added, some to soften, some to darken,
till the whole is like a Dutch picture—laboriously minute in all its
details, and perfect as a finished whole.
The English envoy, Sir John Ayliffe, has been sent by Elizabeth
with an answer to a demand made by James, that she should
proclaim him her successor on the English throne. He has diverged
from his road to Holyrood to the castle of the Laird of Restalrig—the
secret, but principal agent in a plot for seizing the king; and is greatly
alarmed on hearing that Spanish and Roman agents are at the
Scottish court, promising the king great pecuniary assistance if he
will march across the Border, and, with the help of the discontented
Catholic nobility, assert his claim by force. He therefore agrees to aid
Restalrig in his attempt to secure the king, and proceeds on his way
to Edinburgh. Lord Gowrie, with his brother, is on a visit to the
Laird, Gowrie being, of course, in love with his daughter, and is
easily worked on to aid the plot by hearing of certain indignities
which had been offered to his mother in his absence by the minions
of the king. He also goes to Edinburgh, and here we are introduced to
his mother, the widowed countess, who urges him to revenge her
wrongs, and vindicate his honour by confronting the oppressor.
Restalrig has also come to the capital, encounters his friend Gomez,
the Spanish agent, and is by him requested to take care of certain
sums of gold which have been sent over for the purpose of
purchasing the assistance of the nobles to the views of Spain. We
now come into the court of Holyrood. James gabbles, and storms,
and fleeches, and goes through the most strange, yet natural
evolutions—hears a negative reply from England delivered by Sir
John Ayliffe—is startled by the apparition of Gowrie drest in his
father’s arms—and dismisses the court with a threat of vengeance
against all his opponents, especially the heirs of his old enemy, Lord
Ruthven.
The interest of the plot hangs on the intellectual combat between
the wily and sagacious laird, and the truculent and relentless king.
With some of the gold obtained from the Spaniard, Restalrig induces
James to move the court to Falkland, in order to be more easily
seized when in the vicinity of Gowrie’s house; but James carries his
design farther, and goes into the mansion of the Gowries, having
arranged with his train to follow him, and make themselves masters
of his hosts. When Restalrig’s triumph in the success of his plan and
the imprisonment of the king is at its height, a chivalrous sense of
honour in the young earl has disconcerted the whole design, by
restoring James to liberty, and admitting his followers. Slaughter
then takes place; but while James is rejoicing in his gratified revenge,
and the destruction of his enemies, it is announced to him that
Restalrig, at the head of the men of Perth, is at the gate; they are
clamorous for vengeance—the alarm-bells are ringing—strange yells
of an outraged populace are heard—James, in an agony of cowardly
remorse, blames the instruments of his cruelty—and the curtain falls,
leaving him in immediate expectation of being torn to pieces in
punishment of his useless crime. The performers have little to do in
this play, except to bring out the peculiarities of the king. Restalrig is
played with a rough humour, and appreciation of the part, by Mr
Bennet; but the effect of the young earl, upon whom a great deal
depends in the scene of the release, is entirely destroyed by the
unfortunate voice and feebleness of the actor. As an exhibition,
however, of how one great performer can vivify a whole play in spite
of all drawbacks, we pronounce the acting of Mr Phelps in some
respects without a parallel on the modern stage.
In the good old comedy of the “Man of the World,” he is no less
remarkable in his delineation of Sir Pertinax Macsycophant. His
power over the Scotch dialect is the same; and it is only a less
powerful performance, from the character itself being less
diversified, and the tragic element being entirely omitted.
Disagreeable characters both, from their hardness and selfishness;
and we should like to see the same art applied to some softer and
more captivating specimens of the Scottish species.
We have been forced already to confess that single-character
pieces are the only style of drama to which full justice can be done in
any theatre in London. Many people, deluded by this circumstance,
and preferring the perfection of one to the mediocrity of many, will
gravely tell you that the drama itself ought to be formed, in this
respect, on the model of the stage; that the interest ought to be
concentred in the hero, and the others kept entirely subordinate, or
at least only endowed with vitality enough to enable them to survive
the kicks and buffets with which the chief personage of the plot
asserts his superiority. That one central interest must exist in a
properly-constructed drama, there is no doubt; but it is a terrible
narrowing of the author’s walk if you debar him from affixing this
interest to a group, and limit it entirely to one. You force him to
descend to mere peculiarities, and the evolvement of character in its
most contracted sense—thereby, and to this extent, trenching upon
the province of farce, which consists in a development of the
humours of some selected individual. The drama, on the other hand,
paints humanity in the abstract, modified in its particular action by
the position and character of the personages of the story; and in so
far as, for the sake of one chief actor, the movement of the play is
made to depend on him, the poet sinks from being the Titian or
Michael Angelo of his art, into the Watson Gordon, Phillips, or
Pickersgill;—high names certainly; but portrait-painting, even at its
best, is not history. Let any man read Julius Cæsar, and think of the
Kembles, Young, Macready, and Elliston all in the same play, and
talk no more of a one-charactered drama as the fittest for
representation, and the highest of its class. A one-charactered drama
is only the best when there is but one good actor in a theatre; if there
were three good actors, a three-charactered play would speedily
arise; where all were good, Shakspeare would reappear—that is to
say, crowds would go to see Shakspeare, instead of going, as now, to
see this or that performer in Hamlet or Macbeth.
The nearest approach to this diffusion of excellence is to be found
on the French stage. A unity of purpose is visible in the whole
company. The flunky who announces the countess’s carriage enters
into the spirit of the scene, and is as completely the flunky, and
nothing more, as Regnier is the marquis, and nothing less. But one
man we possess on the English boards, who is very superior to
Regnier and all his clan. Charles Matthews has more graceful ease,
more untiring vivacity, more genial comprehension, than the very
finest of the Parisians. For ninety-five nights he has held a hushed
theatre in the most complete subjection to his magic art, and was as
fresh and forcible on the last night of the course as at its beginning.
Yet never once does he raise his voice above drawing-room pitch; no
reliance has he on silver shoe-buckles or slashed doublets; he wears
the same coat and other habiliments in which he breakfasts at home
or dines with a friend. Never once does he point an epigram with a
grimace, or even emphasise a sentiment with a shrug of his
shoulders. The marvel is how the effect is created; for there is no
outward sign of effort or intention. That the effect is there, is
manifest from pit to gallery; and yet, there stands a quiet, placid,
calm-eyed, pleasant-mannered, meek-voiced, bald-headed,
gentlemanly stockbroker, with respectable brass-buttoned blue coat
and grey trousers, such as is to be seen on any day of the week
pursuing his way from St John’s Wood or Brompton; and, at first
sight, as unfit for theatrical representation as the contents of his
ledger for the material of an epic poem. But he is placed in queer and
unaccountable situations?—made intensely interesting by some
strange instance of mistaken identity?—or endangered in life and
fame by some curiously ingenious piece of circumstantial evidence?

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WHAT’S NEW IN THIS EDITION

THE DEVELOPMENT OF INSTRUMENTS

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE ORCHESTRA

HISTORY OF INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC 5

THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE BAND

HISTORY OF INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC 7

THE GROWTH OF PUBLIC SCHOOL INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC

HISTORY OF INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC 9

Website ––– (2013). Music Education. In The Grove Dictionary of American

Teaching and the Role

TEACHING AND THE ROLE OF MOTIVATION 13

PART II: MOTIVATION STRATEGIES IN MUSIC

TEACHING AND THE ROLE OF MOTIVATION 15

Self-efficacy, including Self-concept, Self-esteem, and Self-regulation in Music

Self-regulation, Self-control, or Self-efficacy

The Instrumental Music Classroom

High Quality Music

A Wide Musical Repertoire

A Clear and Attainable Goal

TEACHING AND THE ROLE OF MOTIVATION 17

Technical Drills Using Real Music

Musicianship Skills and Factual Knowledge

Independent Musical Activities

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