American musicians, instead of investigating ragtime, attempt to ignore it, or dismiss it with a contemptuous word.  But that has always been the course of scholasticism in every branch of art.  Whatever new thing the people like is pooh-poohed; whatever is popular is spoken of as not worth the while.  The fact is, nothing great or enduring, especially in music, has ever sprung full-fledged and unprecedented from the brain of any master; the best that he gives to the world he gathers from the hearts of the people, and runs it through the alembic of his genius.  In spite of the bans which musicians and music teachers have placed upon it, the people still demand and enjoy ragtime.  One thing cannot be denied; it is music which possesses at least one strong element of greatness:  it appeals universally; not only the American, but the English, the French, and even the German people find delight in it.  In fact, there is not a corner of the civilized world in which it is not known, and this proves its originality; for if it were an imitation, the people of Europe, anyhow, would not have found it a novelty.  Anyone who doubts that there is a peculiar heel-tickling, smile-provoking, joy-awakening charm in ragtime needs only to hear a skillful performer play the genuine article to be convinced.  I believe that it has its place as well as the music which draws from us sighs and tears.

I became so interested in both the music and the player that I left the table where I was sitting, and made my way through the hall into the back room, where I could see as well as hear.  I talked to the piano-player between the musical numbers and found out that he was just a natural musician, never having taken a lesson in his life.  Not only could he play almost anything he heard, but he could accompany singers in songs he had never heard.  He had, by ear alone, composed some pieces, several of which he played over for me; each of them was properly proportioned and balanced.  I began to wonder what this man with such a lavish natural endowment would have done had he been trained.  Perhaps he wouldn’t have done anything at all; he might have become, at best, a mediocre imitator of the great masters in what they have already done to a finish, or one of the modern innovators who strive after originality by seeing how cleverly they can dodge about through the rules of harmony and at the same time avoid melody.  It is certain that he would not have been so delightful as he was in ragtime.

I sat by, watching and listening to this man until I was dragged away by my friends.  The place was now almost deserted; only a few stragglers hung on, and they were all the, worse for drink.  My friends were well up in this class.  We passed into the street; the lamps were pale against the sky; day was just breaking.  We went home and got into bed.  I fell into a fitful sort of sleep, with ragtime music ringing continually in my ears.

VII