of good music
was far more enjoyable. American life moves at aeroplane speed. The poor
little children hardly have time to breathe, let alone time to study
music. Ragtime is the musical symptom of this American craving for speed
and incessant excitement. In a blare and confusion of noises, like
bedlam broken loose, what chance has a child to develop good taste? It
is admittedly fascinating at times; but is without rhyme, reason or
order. I never permit my children to pollute my piano with it. They may
have it on the talking machine, but they must not be accomplices in
making it.

Of course, things have changed in Sweden, too; and American ragtime,
always contagious, has now infected all Europe. This makes the music
teacher's task in this day far more difficult than formerly. I hear my
daughters practicing, and now and then they seem to be putting a dash of
ragtime into Bach. If I stop them I find that "Bach is too slow, I don't
like Bach!" This is almost like saying, "I don't like Rubens, Van Dyke
or Millet; please, teacher, give me Mutt and Jeff or the Katzenjammer
Kids!" American children need to be constantly taught to reverence the
great creators of the land. Why, Jenny Lind is looked upon as a great
national heroine in Sweden, much as one might regard George Washington
in America. Before America can go about musical educational work
properly, the teachers must inculcate this spirit, a proper appreciation
of what is really beautiful, instead of a kind of wild, mob-like orgy of
blare, bang, smash and shriek which so many have come to know as ragtime
and jazz.

SELF-CRITICISM

If one should ask me what is the first consideration in becoming a
success as a singer, I should say the ability to criticise one's self.
In my own case I had a very competent musician as a teacher. He told me
that my voice was naturally placed and did very little to help place it
according to his own ideas. Perhaps that was well for me, because I knew
myself what I was about. He used to say, "That sounds beautiful," but
all the time I knew that it sounded terrible. It was then that I learned
that my ear must be my best teacher. My teacher, for instance, told me
that I would never be able to trill. This was very disheartening; but he
really believed, according to his conservative knowledge, that I should
never succeed in getting the necessary flexibility.

By chance I happened to meet a celebrated Swedish singer, Mme. Oestberg,
of the old