“No Royal Road to Music.”
PORPORA, one of the most illustrious masters of music in Italy, conceived a friendship for a young pupil, and asked him if he had courage to persevere with constancy in the course he should mark out for him, however wearisome it should seem. When the pupil answered in the affirmative, Porpora wrote upon a single page of ruled paper the diatonic and chromatic scales, ascending and descending the intervals of the third, fourth, and fifth, etc., in order to teach him to take them with freedom, and to sustain the sounds, together with the trills, groups, appoggiatura’s, and passages of vocalization of different kinds. This page occupied both the master and scholar during an entire year; and the year following was also devoted to it. When the third year commenced, nothing was said of changing the lesson, and the pupil began to murmur; but the master reminded him of his promise. The fourth year slipped away, the fifth followed, and always the same eternal page. The sixth found them at the same task; but the master added to it some lessons of articulation, pronunciation, and, lastly, of declamation. At the end of this year, the pupil, who supposed himself still in the elements, was much surprised, when one day his master said to him, “Go, My Son, you have nothing more to learn, you are the first singer of Italy, and of the world!” He spoke the truth, for the singer was Caffarelli. — Festis’s History of Music.
Such an anecdote as this well illustrates the Lord’s ways with us. Thus, from one day, from one year, to another, we are learning the same unvarying lesson, getting more deeply acquainted, on the one hand, with our own utter unworthiness; and with His infinite grace, on the other. Often truly a perplexing, a tedious lesson to the heart; so much so, that it seems as if it would never come to an end. But it is not so. As this young pupil was told by his master, “You have nothing more to learn, you are the first singer of Italy, and of the world,” so we, in a higher sense, having learned our lesson, shall find to our joy, and amazement, that we are perfect musicians. And, oh, what a song will be ours! such strains as no ear ever listened to before; telling out, as they will do, the praises of. Him Who is infinitely worthy—Who was slain—Who has redeemed us from death by His blood, and with Whom our God and Father has assigned to us, poor creatures of the dust as we are, the nearest place to Him—the Son of His love, in that circle of glory and blessedness, of which He, in “that day,” will be both the light and center.
Viewing the above anecdote from another point of view, one learns from it the value of perseverance in whatever we undertake. Without this, whoever attained to excellence, whether in connection with the things of this life, or the next? It shows, too, the need of being established in the principles of whatever we learn. Failure in this leads to failure when we come to put our knowledge into practice. Porpora certainly proved that he understood this, when he elicited that promise from his young pupil. And Caffarelli, as he looked back on those six years so strangely spent on one lesson, conscious at the same time of what he had gained, must have felt what a wise master he had.