Music Talks with Children — Story, Setting & Ideas

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In Category - Theory Instruction
Tapper, Thomas, 1864-1958 Project Gutenberg 2004
Music -- Instruction and study Readers of public-domain and historical texts
Project Gutenberg digital edition en

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Words 33,907
Reading time 148 min
Text sections 4

Music Talks with Children — Story, Setting & Ideas can be approached with a clearer sense of reading commitment from its source measurements: 33,907 words, 2 hr 28 min estimated reading time, and 4 detected text sections.

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Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Music -- Instruction and study,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Thomas Tapper's 1898 book uses 25 short chapters to discuss music appreciation, practice, and character, emphasizing that music should be led out of a child's individuality, not driven in. The work addresses parents and teachers, with footnotes for adults, and draws on examples from composers like Mendelssohn and Chopin.
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"And the light _dwelleth_ with him."--_Daniel II: 22._

Once a master said to a child:

"If thou wilt study diligently, learn, and do good unto others, thy face shall be filled with light."

So the child studied busily, learned, and sought how she could do good unto others. And every little while she ran to the glass to see if the light was coming. But at each time she was disappointed. No light was there. Try as faithfully as she would, and look as often as she would, it was always the same.

I do not know if she doubted the master or not; but it is certain she did not know what to make of it. She grieved, and day after day her disappointment grew. At length she could bear it no longer, so she went to the master and said:

"Dear master, I have been so diligent! I have tried to learn and to do good unto others. Yet every time I have sought in my face the light _which you promised_, it has not been there. No, not a single time."

Now the master listened intently, and watching her face as she spoke, he said:

"Thou poor little one, in this moment, as thou hast spoken to me, thy face has been so filled with light that thou wouldst not believe. And dost thou know why? It is because every word thou hast spoken in this moment has come from thy heart.

"Thou must learn _in the first days_ this lesson: When the thought and the deed are in the heart, then the light is in the face, always, and it is there at no other time. It could not be. And what is in thy heart when thou art before the glass? In that moment hast thou turned away from diligence, and from learning, and from the love of doing good unto others and in thy heart there is left only the poor curiosity to see the light which can never shine when it is sought. Thou canst never see the light of thy own face. For thee that light is forever within, and it will not prosper thy way to want to look upon it. It is only as thou art faithful that this is added unto thee."

Sorrowing yet more than before the little child said:

"Master, I do not understand what thou hast said, yet I believe thee; but the wish is yet within me to see the light of my face, if only for once. Thou who art wise, tell me why it is denied me."

And the master made answer:

"It is denied to us all. No one may see the light of his own face. Therefore thou shalt labor daily with diligence that thy light shall shine before others. And if thou wouldst see the light thou shalt cause it to shine _in another_. That is the greatest of all--to bring forth the light. And to do this, thou shalt of thyself be faithful in all things. By what thou art thou must show diligence, the love for learning, and the desire to do good unto others, even as these things have been taught thee."

WHY WE SHOULD STUDY MUSIC.

"Music makes people more gentle and meek, more modest and understanding."--_Martin Luther._[1]

It was this same music lover who said once, "Music is the fairest gift of God." Just these words should be a sufficient answer to the question which we have asked in this Talk, but a little more may make it clearer. Here we are, gathered together to talk about music. We know music is pleasing; to many of us it is even more than a pleasure; of course, it is difficult to get the lessons properly and we must struggle and strive. Often the way seems so rude and stony that we cannot advance. We are hurt, and hot tears of discouragement come, and we sit down dejected feeling it were best never to try again. But even when the tears flow the fastest we feel something within us which makes us listen. We can really hear our thoughts battling to tell us something,--prompted by the heart, we may be sure.

And what is music making our thoughts say?

"Have I not been a pleasure and a comfort to you? Have I not set you to singing and to dancing many and many times? Have I not let you sing your greatest happiness? And am I not ever about you, at home, in school, in church? even in the streets I have never deserted you. Always, _always_ I have made you merry. But this was music you _heard_. Now you have said you wished to know me yourself; to have me come to dwell in your heart that you might have me understandingly, and because I ask labor of you for this, you sit here with your hot tears in your eyes and not a bit of me present in your heart. Listen! Am I not there? Yes, just a bit. Now more and more, and now will you give me up because I make you work a little?"

Well, we all have just this experience and we always feel ashamed of our discouragements; but even this does not tell us why we should study music. Some people study it because they have to do so; others because they love it. Surely it must be best with those who out of their hearts choose to learn about tones and the messages they tell.

Did you ever notice how people seem willing to stop any employment if music comes near? Even in the busiest streets of a city the organ-man will make us listen to his tunes. In spite of the hurry and the crowd and the jumble of noises, still the organ-tones go everywhere clear, full, melodious, bidding us heed them. Perhaps we mark the music with the hand, or walk differently, or begin to sing with it. In one way or another the music will make us do something--that shows its power. I have seen in many European towns a group of children about the organ-man,[2] dancing or singing as he played and enjoying every tune to the utmost. This taught me that music of every kind has its lover, and that with a little pains and a little patience the love for music belongs to all alike, and may be increased if other things do not push it aside.

Now, one of the first things to be said of music is that it makes happiness, and what makes happiness is good for us, because happiness not only lightens the heart, but it is one of the best ways to make the light come to the face. The moment we study music we learn a severe lesson, and that is this: There can be no use in our trying to be musicians unless we are willing to learn perfect order in all the music-tasks we do.

In this, music is a particularly severe mistress. Nothing slovenly, untidy, or out of order will do. The count must be absolutely right, not fast nor slow as our fancy dictates, but even and regular. The hands must do their task together in a friendly manner; the one never crowding nor hurrying the other, each willing to yield to the other when the right moment comes.[3] The feet must never use the pedals so as to make the harmonies mingle wrongly, but at just the right moment must make the strings sing together as the composer desires. The thoughts can never for a single moment wander from the playing; they must remain faithful, preparing what is to come and commanding the hands to do exactly the right task in the right way. That shows us, you see, the second quality and a strict one of music. It will not allow us to be disorderly, and more than this, it teaches us a habit for order that will be a gain to us in every other task. Now let us see:

First, we should study music for the happiness it will give us.

Second, we should study music for the order it teaches us.

There is a third reason. If music gives us happiness, do we not in learning it gain a power to contribute happiness to others? That is one of the greatest pleasures in learning. Not only does the knowledge prove of use and joy to us, but we can constantly make it useful and joy-giving to others. Does this not teach us how thankful we should be to all those who live usefully? And think of all the men who have passed their lives writing beautiful thoughts, singing out of their very hearts, day after day, all their life long, for the joy of others forever after.

In our next Talk we shall learn that pure thought, written out of the heart, is forever a good in the world. From this we shall learn that to study music rightly is to cultivate in our own hearts the same good thought which the composer had. Hence the third reason we can find for studying music is that it makes us able to help and to cheer others, to help them by willingly imparting the little knowledge we have, and to cheer them by playing the beautiful thoughts in tone which we have learned.

These are three great reasons, truly, but there are many others. Let us speak about one of them. In some of the Talks we are to have we shall learn that true music comes from a true heart; and that great music--that is the classics--is the thought of men who are pure and noble, learned in the way to write, and anxious never to write anything but the best. There is plainly a great deal of good to us if we study daily the music of men such as these. In this way we are brought in touch with the greatest thought. This constant presence and influence will mold our thoughts to greater strength and greater beauty. When we read the history of music, we shall see that the greatest composers have always been willing to study in their first days the master works of their time. They have strengthened their thoughts by contact with thoughts stronger than their own, and we may gain in just the same way if we will. We know now that there are many reasons why it is good for us to study music. We have spoken particularly of four of these. They are:

First, for the happiness it will give us.

Second, for the order it demands of us.

Third, for the power it gives us to help and cheer others.

Fourth, for the great and pure thought it brings before us and raises in us.

All these things, are they true, you ask? If the little child had asked that of the master he would have said:

"These things shalt thou find real because they make thee brave. And the pain and the drudgery and the hot tears shall be the easier to bear for this knowledge, which should be strong within thee as a pure faith."

"Raffaello's genius goes directly to the heart."--_Autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini._[4]

The only true way to learn is by doing. The skill of the hand and the skill of the thought can be brought out only by use. We shall not become very skilful, nor very learned, nor very good unless we daily devote ourselves to tasks--often difficult and unpleasant--which shall bring to us wisdom, or success, or goodness. None of these things, nor any other like them, come merely by talking about them. That is the worst way of all--merely to talk and not to act. But if we talk truthfully and act with care, we shall gain a great deal. Pleasant companionship often brings forth thoughts which if we follow them industriously, lead a long way in a good direction.

I do not know that any one has likened music to a country. But we can make the comparison, and then it becomes plain that we may either wander through it, seeing the beautiful things, wondering about them, and talking over our admiration and our wonder; or we may join to this a true and an earnest inquiry, which shall give us, as a reward, the clear understanding of some things which we see. Let us travel in this way; first, because we shall gain true knowledge by it, but better still, because we shall thereby learn _in the first days_ that the truest pleasures and the dearest happinesses are those for which we have done something; those for which we have given both of labor and of pains.

One of the wisest little philosophers in the world was Polissena,[5] and I think she became wise just because she labored. As we become more and more acquainted with true music we shall learn this: True music is that which is born in some one's heart. "All immortal writers speak out of the heart."[6] Nothing could be truer; and as they speak _out_ of their hearts you may be sure they intend to speak _into_ ours. Nowhere else. As true music is made in some one's heart, we must feel it in our own hearts as we play it or it will mean nothing. The heart must make it warm, then the beauties of the music will come out. It is strange how our moods tell themselves. All we do with our eyes and with our ears, with the tongue and with the hands, what we do with our thoughts even, is sure to say of itself whether we are doing with a willing heart or not. It is curious that the truth will come out of whatever seems to be a secret, but curious as it may be, it does come out. We must think of that.

Every one of us knows the difference between doing willingly and unwillingly. We know that things done with joy and with eagerness are well done and seem to spring directly from the heart. Not only that, but they really inspire joy and eagerness in those who are about us. _Inspire_ is just the word. Look it up in your dictionary and see that it means exactly what happens--_to breathe into_--they breathe joy and happiness _into_ all things else, and it comes out of our hearts.

Now happiness can be told in many ways: in laughter, in the eyes, in a game, in a life like that of Polissena's, in anything, but in nothing that does not win the heart. As happiness can be shown in anything, it can be shown in music. We can put happiness into play, likewise we can put happiness into music. And as much of it as we put into anything will come out. Besides, we might just as well learn now as at another time, this: Whatever we put into what we do will come out. It may be happiness or idleness or hatred or courage; whatever goes into what we do comes out very plainly. Everything, remember. That means much. If you should practise for an hour, wishing all the time to be doing something else, you may be sure that your wish is coming out of your playing so plainly that every one knows it. Do you think that is strange? Well, it may be, but it is strictly true.

No one may be able to explain why and how, but certainly it is true that as we play our music all that goes on in the heart finds its way into the head, and the arms, and the hands, into the music, off through the air, and into the hearts of every one who is listening. So it is a valuable truth for us to remember, that whatever we put into our music will come out and we cannot stop it; and other people will get it, and know what we are by it.

Once we fully understand how music will show forth our inmost feelings we shall begin to understand its truthfulness and its power, as well as its beauty. We shall see from our first days that music will tell the truth. That will help us to understand a little the true mission of art, "either to state a true thing, or adorn a serviceable one."[7] The moment we understand this _a very little_ we shall begin to love art. We shall be glad and willing for music to reveal us, to show the spirit within us, because little by little with the understanding will come love and reverence for the beautiful thoughts that are locked up in tones.

Men who want to tell something to very many people, many of whom they do not know and to whom they cannot go, write down all they have to say and make a book of it. There are some men, however, who have many beautiful thoughts which they wish to tell to those who can understand; these may dwell in their own land or in other lands; in their own time or in future time. But the message of these men is so beautiful and so delicate that it cannot be told in words, so they tell it in music. Then, in their own land and in other lands, in their own day and forever after, people can find out the delicate thoughts by studying the pages of the music, seeking _with their hearts_ the thought that came out of the master's heart.

Do you wonder that composers revere their art? We are told of Chopin that art was for him a high and holy vocation.[8] Do you wonder? Let me read you a few words about his devotion: "In order to become a skilful and able master he studied, without dreaming of the ... fame he would obtain." "Nothing could be purer, more exalted, than his thoughts,"[9] because he knew that if his thoughts were not pure the impurity would come out in his music.

The music that has first been felt in the heart and then written down finds its way and tells all about the heart, where it was born. When you play and feel that you are playing from the heart, you may be sure you are on the right path. The beautiful thing is, that this is true no matter how simple music is. The very simplest will tell all about us. Remember, in playing music, that great and good men have put into tones thoughts which will be a joy and comfort to the world forever. Some one of these Talks will be about classic and common music. But even now I am sure we understand that good music comes from pure thought, and pure thought comes from a good heart. That, surely, is clear and simple.

Pure music is earnest and songful. It has meaning in every part. No tone is without a lofty purpose. That is true music. It is classic from the heart that is put into it.

By being faithful to our music it will do for us more than we can dream. Do you know the inscription that used to be over the north gate of the city of Siena, in Italy?

"Siena opens not only her gates, but her heart to you."

"Scientific education ought to teach us to see the invisible as well as the visible in nature."--_John Tyndall_.[10]

There used to live in England a famous scientist named Tyndall, who was interested, among other things, in the study of sound. He studied sounds of all kinds, made experiments with them, wrote down what he observed, and out of it all he wrote a book,[11] useful to all who desire to learn about sound and its nature.

Thomas Tapper's Music Talks with Children (1898) is structured as a series of 25 short chapters, each intended as the basis for a conversation between an adult and a child. The preface makes clear that the book is addressed to children but must reach them through an older person, and footnotes throughout are directed to the mother or teacher. Tapper insists that music must be led out of the child's individuality, not driven into it, and that the teacher's knowledge is a light, not a hammer. This structural choice—short, topical talks rather than a continuous narrative—shapes the reading experience as a set of discrete, repeatable lessons.

Recurring Images of Light and Growth

Across the excerpts, Tapper returns to images of light and organic growth. The teacher's knowledge is called a light; the chapter titled “The Light on the Path” reinforces this motif. In the preface, music is to be led out of the child, like a plant from a seed. The idea that music must give true pleasure or its study is doubtful echoes a natural, unhurried unfolding. These images are not decorative—they underpin Tapper's pedagogical argument that forcing music into a child is counterproductive. The light metaphor also appears in the discussion of harmony and counterpoint: as students understand good writing, they begin to see more, as if illuminated. This consistent imagery ties the book's method to its content.

Movement Between Music and Reading

Chapter XV, “Music and Reading,” draws a parallel between musical and literary appreciation. Tapper writes that thoughts in tones or thoughts in words may be of the heart or not, and only heart-felt thoughts are worthy. He advises choosing good books for instruction and entertainment, applying the same standard of truth and beauty he applies to music. The chapter moves from a general love of books to specific advice: composers' written word-thoughts reveal secrets of the tone-art and the life-interests of the composers. This structural movement—from music to reading and back—shows Tapper treating arts as mutually reinforcing. The reader is encouraged to see music study as part of a broader intellectual life, not an isolated drill.

The Role of the Adult as Intermediary

The preface explicitly states that the book reaches children through an older person, and footnotes are addressed to the mother or teacher. This dual audience shapes the text's voice: direct and simple when speaking to the child, but with asides for the adult. For example, Tapper notes that the slower adult mind often meets difficulties not recognized by the unprejudiced child, and that adults persist in recreating difficulties out of old fears. The structure of each chapter—a talk that can be read verbatim or adapted—gives the adult flexibility. This intermediary role is not merely practical; it is philosophical. Tapper believes the teacher's knowledge is a light, not a hammer, and the book itself models that gentle guidance.

Structure as a Series of Discrete Talks

The 25 chapters are short and self-contained, each with a title like “What the Face Tells,” “Listening,” “Thinking in Tone,” or “The Classics.” There is no overarching plot or cumulative argument; instead, each talk can stand alone. The preface suggests they may be used as subject-matter for talks or read verbatim. This modular structure means the book can be dipped into, repeated, or reordered. The appendix and table of contents reinforce this: the reader is given a menu of topics. Tapper's method is cumulative but not linear—a child might revisit “Listening” after “Harmony and Counterpoint” with new understanding. The structure itself enacts the patient, unhurried approach Tapper advocates.

Tapper's book is best read not as a manual to be finished, but as a resource to be returned to. Each chapter invites a conversation, and the footnotes remind the adult that the real work happens in the dialogue between child and teacher. The recurring images of light and growth, the parallel drawn between music and reading, and the modular chapter structure all reinforce Tapper's central conviction: music education should illuminate, not drill.

Flipping through Tapper’s gentle chapters, I kept thinking how he lets a child’s nature unfold through sound. It made me recall another quiet volume, Descriptive Analyses of Piano Works For the Use of Teachers, Players, and Music Clubs — Key Ideas to Explore, where each piece becomes a story one discovers rather than a lesson imposed. Both feel like faded photographs of a kinder teaching.

Jack Hernandez
1 week ago

Victoria Nguyen
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Grayson Flores
3 weeks ago

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4.5 out of 5 (3 User reviews )

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    Dawn Brandi Newman - 1 month ago
    The book's child-friendly approach and simple explanations are commendable. However, some content feels outdated, and the pacing may be too slow for today's fast-paced kids. Still, it offers a solid foundation and plenty of encouragement for young learners.

  • ...
    Scott Miller - 3 weeks ago
    This charming book introduces classical music and piano playing to children in an accessible and engaging way. The conversational tone and relatable examples help spark curiosity, and the practical tips are useful for young beginners. A lovely resource for parents and music teachers hoping to cultivate a lifelong love of music.

  • ...
    Rachel Morris - 3 weeks ago
    Though well-intentioned, the book's tone is overly moralistic and its teaching methods are antiquated. It spends too much time on abstract analogies rather than practical instruction, which modern children may find confusing. There are far better music education books available today.


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