One of our most successful exercises has proved to be that originally conceived as a help in teaching children to walk, viz., "walking the line." It will be remembered that among the exercises in motor education used at the outset of our method, appeared that of walking with one foot in front of the other on a line drawn on the floor, much as do tight-rope-walking acrobats. The purpose of this exercise was to stabilize equilibrium, to teach erect carriage and to make movement freer and more certain.

Miss Maccheroni began her exercises in rhythm by accompanying this walking of the children with piano music. In fact, the sound of the piano came to be the call signal for the children to take up this exercise. The teacher starts to play and immediately the children come of their own accord, and almost without exception, to take up their positions on the line. At the very beginning the music seems to be purely a signal, at best a pleasant accompaniment to the motor exercise. There is no apparent adaptation of the child's movements to the musical rhythm. However, as the same measure is repeated for a considerable period, the rudiments of this adaptation begin to appear. One of the children begins to keep step with the rhythm of the music. Individual differences in adaptation persist for some time; but if the same musical rhythm is kept up, almost all the children finally become sensible to it. In fact, these little people begin to develop general attitudes of body, in relation to the music, which are of the greatest interest. First of all, the children change their gait according to the music: the light walk, the war-like march, the run, develop on the impulse of the rhythmic movement. It is not that the teacher "teaches" the child to change his walk according to the music: the phenomenon arises of its own accord. The child begins to interpret the rhythm by moving in harmony with it. But to obtain this result the teacher must play perfectly, carefully noting all the details of musical punctuation. The creation of musical feeling in the children depends upon the teacher's own feeling and the rigorous accuracy of her own execution.

It will be useful to give here a few details on the execution of these first rhythmic exercises. The children begin, as we have said, by learning to walk on the line. They develop a passion for walking on that line, yielding to a fascination which grown-up people cannot conceive. They seem to put their whole souls into it. This is the moment for the teacher to sit down at the piano and without saying anything to play the first melody in our series. The children smile, they look at the piano and continue to walk, becoming more and more concentrated on what they are doing. The melody acts as a persuading voice; the children begin to consider the time of the music and little by little their tiny feet begin to strike the line in step with it. Some of our three-year-olders begin to keep step as early as the first or second trial. After a very few attempts a whole class of forty children will be walking in time. We must warn against the error of playing with special emphasis on the measure; in other words, of striking more loudly than is required the note (thesis) which marks the inception of the rhythmic period. The teacher should be careful simply to bring out all the expression that the melody requires. She may be sure that the rhythmic cadence will become apparent from the tune itself. The playing of one note more loudly than the others, thus to emphasize the rhythmic accent (thesis), is to deprive the selection of all its value as melody and therefore of its power to cause the motory action corresponding to rhythm. It is necessary to play accurately and with feeling, giving an interpretation as real as possible. We get thus a "musical time" which, as every one knows, is not the "mechanical time" of the metronome. If it is certainly absurd to play a Nocturne of Chopin on the metronome, it is hardly less absurd and certainly quite as disagreeable to play a piece of dance music on that instrument. Even those people who have a great aptitude for feeling "time" and who play with special attention to exactness of measure, know that they cannot follow the metronome without positive discomfort. Children feel the rhythm of a piece of music if it is played with musical feeling; and not only do they follow the time with their footsteps, but, as the rhythmic periods vary, they adapt the whole attitude of their bodies to the melodic period, which is developed around the beats constituting the rhythm as around points of support. There is a vast difference between this exercise and that of having children march to the clapping of hands or to the time of one, two, three, etc., counted in a tone of command.

A child of ten years was dancing to the music of a Chopin waltz played with most generous concessions to the different colorations indicated in the text. She put into her movements a certain fullness of swing, to bring out the effect which a marked rallentando gives the notes. Of course this method of dancing demands on the part of the children a perfect and intimate identification of spirit with the music; but this is something which children, even when they are small, possess in a very special way, and which they develop in their long and uninterrupted walks on the line to the sounds of a tune often repeated. It is curious to see them assume a demeanor entirely in harmony with the expression of the music they are following. A little boy of three, during the playing of our first melody, held the palms of his hands turned parallel with the floor and as he walked he bent his knees slightly with each step. On passing from our first to our second tunes, he changed not only the rapidity of his footsteps, but the attitude of his whole body. Considered as something external this may be of slight importance, but considered as evidence of a mental state, the change in demeanor bears witness to a distinct artistic experience. The composer of the tune could well be proud of such a sincere response to his work, if the test of musical beauty be regarded as successful communication of feeling.

Our second tune is a rapid andante somewhat staccato. The first was slow and blending (legato). The children feel the legato, answering it with very reserved movements. The staccato lifts them from the floor. The crescendo makes them hurry and stamp their feet. The forte sometimes brings them to clap their hands, while calando restores them to the silent march, which turns, during the piano, to perfect silence. The completion of the musical period brings them to a halt and they stand there expectant until it is taken up again; or if it be the end of the whole tune, they suddenly stop.

Beppino, a little boy of three, used to keep time with the extended forefinger of his right hand. The music was a song in two parts repeated alternately, the one in legato and the other in staccato; with the legato he used a uniform regular movement; he followed the staccato with sudden spasmodic beats.

To-day forty children may be seen walking as softly as possible during a tune played pianissimo. These same children on the day when they first heard the piano kept calling to the teacher "play louder; we can't hear" and yet at that time the teacher was playing not pianissimo, but mezzo forte!

At first the children interested in the first tune are deaf to any other. The children in the St. Barnaba School in Milan got in step with the first tune. They did not notice that the teacher had changed to the second and kept their step so well that when the first tune was resumed, the teacher found them in perfect time, while on the faces of the children appeared a smile of recognition, as it were, of an old friend.

If the teacher is sufficiently cautious, she can discover without disturbing the children the moment when they have caught a new tune; and even if only a few succeed in following both of the first two melodies, the teacher can satisfy these few by alternating the tunes. This does not disturb the others who come, little by little, to notice the change in the music and to fall in with the new movement. In a public kindergarten at Perugia an attempt of this nature was made without warning by a lady, who, being a visitor, felt free to take this liberty. The children were invited into the large hall and left to themselves while the lady was playing on the piano our third melody, a march. The older children caught the movement at once. After they had been marching for some time a galop was played. Some hesitation appeared in a few pupils while others apparently were not aware of the change in the music. Suddenly two or three began to run, as though swept away by the rhythmic wave, as though borne along by the music. They hardly seemed to touch that floor to which, but a few moments previously, the march seemed to have glued them at every step! A portion of the children in this class had taken seats in the sloping auditorium around the room. They were the youngest children; and when the victorious charge broke out to the tune of the galop, they began to clap their hands enthusiastically. Some of the teachers felt alarmed, but certainly the spectacle was an inspiring one.

It follows that if we are to tell the children to "hop," "run," or "march," there is no use in our giving them music. We must take our choice: either music or commands. Even in our reading lessons with the slips, we do not tell the child the word that he must read. We must do without commands, without false accentuation of notes, without enforced positions. Music, if it be in reality an expressive language, suggests everything to children if they are left to themselves. Rhythmic interpretation of the musical thought is expressed by the attitude and movement of body and spirit.

Nannina, a girl four years old, would gracefully spread her skirt, and relax her arms along her body. She would bend her knees slightly, throw her head back and turning her pretty little face to one side, smile at those behind her as though extending her amiability in all directions.

Beppino, four and a half years old, stood with his feet together motionless at the center of the ellipse drawn on the floor, on which the children were walking. He beat the time of the first tune with an outstretched arm, bowing from the waist in perfectly correct form at every measure. The time consumed in this bow of Beppino exactly filled the interval between one thesis and the next and was in perfect accord with the movement of the tune.

Nannina, the same pretty girl we mentioned above, always grew stiff when a military march was played; she would frown and walk heavily.

On the other hand, the intervention of the teacher to give some apposite lesson, tending to perfect certain movements, is something which gives the children extraordinary delight. Five of our little girls embraced each other rapturously and smothered the teacher with kisses when they had learned a few new movements of a rhythmic dance.

Otello, Vincenzino and Teresa had been taught to get a better effect from their tambourines, their steps and gestures. Each of them thanked the teacher for the profitable lesson in a special way. Vincenzino gave her a beaming smile whenever he marched past her; Teresa would furtively touch her with her hand; Otello was even more demonstrative—as he went by her he would leave the line, run to her and embrace her for a second or two.

If the spontaneity of every child has been respected; if, in other words, every child has been able to grow in his or her own way, listening to the tunes, following them with the footsteps and with free movements—interpreting them; if each child has been able to penetrate, without being disturbed by any one, into the heart of the beautiful fact which the understanding of music constitutes; then it is easy for the teacher who has forty children (between three and five and a half years of age) only one assistant, and preferably perhaps a whole apartment instead of a closed room, to sit down at the piano and teach eight children a long and intricate dance,—the lanciers in five parts. And then just like the orchestra leader who has prepared his pupils, the teacher with a minimum of effort gets the very effect in dancing, etc., which teachers generally are so anxious to obtain. Then we can get marches, counter marches, simultaneous movements, alternate movements, interweaving lines,—anything in fact, that we wish, and with perfect accuracy besides; since every movement in the children corresponds exactly with the development of the tune.

For instance, the children are marching two by two, holding each other's hand, during the playing of a short tune. At the end of this melody they slowly kneel, but in such a way that on the sound of the last note they are touching the floor very gently with their knees. There is something sweet about the accuracy and the perfect simultaneousness attained by the children, under the guidance of the tune. The effect of these exercises on them is to bring repose to their whole body and a sense of peace to their little souls.

On one occasion in a school just opened in Milan, 1908, the children re-acted to the piano by jumping about in confusion, waving their arms, moving their shoulders and legs. This was really an attempt to represent by a sort of chaos the complexity of the rhythmic movements they were hearing. They were actually making, without any assistance from others, a spontaneous attempt at musical interpretation. They soon grew tired of this, saying that "the thing was ugly." They had, however, divined the possibilities of an orderly motory action; and when they had become quiet again, they began to listen to the music with great interest waiting for the revelation of its deep secret. Then suddenly they began to walk again, this time regularly and according to the real measure.

One of the children, whose graph was somewhat as follows:

(pauses, that is, on the line of quiescence, with frequent excursions into the negative field), took no part in these rhythmic exercises. On the contrary, he was always breaking them up by pushing the other children out of line or making a noise. Finally, however, he did learn not to disturb others; in other words, to stay quiet, something which he had never known how to do before. It is a great conquest for a disorderly child to gain the ability to become quite motionless, in a gently placid state of mind. His next step was to learn to move delicately, with respect for other people; and he came to have a certain sensitiveness about his relations with his schoolmates. For example, he used to blush when they smiled at him and even when he took no part in what they were doing, he shared their activities with an affectionate attention. From this point on Riziero (that was the child's name) entered on a higher plane of existence—one of order, labor and politeness.

The fact also that children at times listen to the music, while remaining seated comfortably around the room, watching the other children dance and march, is in itself a pretty thing. The children who are seated become very self-controlled. They watch their schoolmates or exchange a few words cautiously with each other. At times, even, they let themselves go in interesting expressions of movement with their arms. The manifestations of placidity and interest here seen cannot be disjoined from a healthful, spiritual upbuilding—a beautiful orderliness, which is being established within them. Obviously, a wonderful harmony springs up between the teacher, who plays with enthusiastic feeling and with all possible skill of hand and abundance of spirit simply because she feels the musical phenomena around her in the children, and the pupils who, little by little, are transformed under this influence, and show an understanding of the music, which becomes for them something more and more intimate, more and more complete. It is no longer a question of the step, but of the position of the whole body: arms, heads, chests are moved by the music.

Finally, many of the children beat time with their hands, and interpret correctly without ever having been taught distinctions between 3 and 4 time, etc. When a keen interest in "guessing" the time is awakened in them, the children look about for various objects—wands, tambourines, castagnettes, etc., and the class exercise is developed to perfection. The child comes to be "possessed" by the music. He obeys the musical command with his whole body and becomes more and more perfect in this obedience shown by his muscles.

Here is a pretty story which will show to what extent children can feel themselves dependent on the music which "makes them move." Once my father went into a room where a little Parisian girl whom he was very fond of was passionately marching to the rhythm of a tune played on the piano. The child usually ran to meet the old gentleman; but that day the moment she saw him she began to shout to Miss Maccheroni, who was playing, "ArrÊte, arrÊte!" She wanted to go and shake hands with my father, something she could not do as long as the music was continuing to command her to move with the rhythm. And in fact, it was not until Miss Maccheroni stopped playing that the little girl was able to run and deliver her greeting.

We have prepared a series of tunes for this work and I think it will be useful to give here three which we finally selected because they have succeeded, whenever they were tried, in arousing in the children the phenomena above described. There are eight movements chosen from repeated over and over again and played with all possible accuracy, will surely, sooner or later, be felt in every rhythm by the children.

The transition from following the time by ones (that is, one beat for every rhythmic element) to the indication of simply the beginning of the measure (that is, one beat on the thesis) appeared for the first time in a "Children's House" directed by Miss Maccheroni. There, one morning when the children were following the music with great pleasure, marching about and beating on tambourines, it was a girl who first caught the strong beat (thesis). A little boy behind her made the conquest a second later; but while the little girl lost what she had gained almost immediately, the little boy developed it to perfection. Shortly after other children made the same progress, apparently as a saving of effort; they began, that is, by beating once on every step. This required a rapid movement and an endless succession of beats. All of a sudden they began to beat on the first note of a measure.

Here, for instance, is a case of 4/4 time:

But the moment comes suddenly when they catch the measure: then they beat it as follows:

Maria Louise, a little under four years of age, was walking to the sound of a 2/4 march, played rather lightly. Suddenly she called to the teacher: "Regarde, regarde, comme je fais!" She was making little skips, gracefully raising her arms on the first beat of the measure. Her invention was extraordinarily happy and graceful.

Usually in teaching the divisions of musical time, it has been the custom to play forte the time called theoretically tempo forte: in other words, to strike hard on the first note of every rhythmic measure. In fact, teachers of children or young people can often be heard playing a tune with special emphasis on the first note of every measure and playing the successive notes pianissimo. Naturally the motory action corresponds to this: it will be tense for the strong beats and light for the weak beats. But what value has all this in relation to the feeling of the rhythmic measure? What is called theoretically tempo forte has no relation to the meaning of the words "strong" and "weak" in their ordinary sense. It is a question of emphasis and expression, which derive their nature from the laws of musical time and melodic composition and certainly not from the wrist muscles of the person playing. If this were not so, a person could play the first, second or third note of a measure as forte, whereas, in reality, it is the first that is always "strong."

In practise, children, to whom the six tunes we proposed for the beginning of this study were played—and played always with rigorous musical interpretation and with expressiveness—succeeded in recognizing the first beat of the measure as "strong," and went on thus to divide into measures some thirty pieces of music of varied rhythm. Even the following year, after the summer vacation, they kept asking for new pieces of music just for the "fun" of working out the measure in them. They would stand at the side of the teacher at the piano and either with their hands or with soft playing on the castagnettes or tambourines, accompany their new piece of music. In general they would listen in silence to the first measure and then fall in with their little beats like any well-trained orchestra. They took the trouble no longer to march to the music: they were interested in this new form of study; while the smaller tots, delighted with the new music, were still walking undisturbed along the elliptical line on the floor which was to guide them to such great conquests!

The strong beat (thesis) is the key that opens to the higher laws of music. Sometimes it is played, for reasons of expression, very softly and always possesses the solemnity of the note which dominates the rhythm. It may even be syncopated or lacking entirely, just as when[353]
[354] the orator on reaching his climax pronounces in a very low voice the phrase which is to produce the great effect, or even pauses and is silent: this sentence rings powerfully in the ears of those who listen.

The same error which leads to heavy stress, in playing, on the first beat of every measure in order to attract the attention of the children to it, also leads to suggesting secondary movements in addition to the one which marks the thesis. The children, for instance, must make four movements for a 4/4 time: movements in the air for the secondary beats, and a more energetic movement for the thesis. The result is that interest in the succession of movements replace attention to the fact of most importance, which is to feel the value of the first beat. Children who feel the first note because it is played "strong" and who proceed from one strong beat to the following strong beat guided by a succession of movements, are not, it is obvious, following the tune. One little girl who had been prepared by this method found herself, on having mistaken the beat, constantly persisting in her mistake under the guidance of her four movements. It is like presenting a cube or a triangle to children of three years with the teacher enumerating the sides, the angles, the apexes, etc. In reality the children do not get any notion of the triangle or the cube.

Our children come ultimately to represent the secondary beats with the slight movements, as follows:

As a practical application of the information already acquired in the division of time into measures, we next pass to the exercise of playing the scales in 2/4, 3/4 and 4/4 time and with the triplets. The scale, the classic type of the melody, lends itself beautifully to these interpretations of various measures. Every one must have passed hours at the piano playing simple scales and finding a delicious variety in the exercise. The do scale itself may be played, for instance, thus:

Our little piano may be of use in this exercise; but it is better first to use an exercise more easy for finger movement and for the position of the hand:

Children who have succeeded in identifying and dividing the melody into measures and the measure itself into 2, 3, 4, understand very easily the time values of the notes. It is sufficient to let the child hear each exercise first and he will repeat it with precision. Thus all kinds of dry explanation of musical values disappear.

The following notation

presents no special difficulty if the child has once heard it.

Our next step is to use some exercises for the analysis of the measure, for instance:

The children follow these exercises, marching so as to put one step on every note. Even children of four years when prepared with the preceding exercises succeed in following these with the very greatest interest. They are especially delighted with the long note which keeps them hanging in position with one foot in front of them on the line and the other one behind them also on the line. The position is that of a person who stops before bringing up the foot which is still behind him.

Since the children already know how to read music, there is hung up before them a green chart (similar in dimensions to the musical staffs already familiar to them) on which is written the exercise which is being played at the piano by the teacher and which they execute on the floor-line.

Examples:

Here is another:

We even give a simple time like this one (composed by Professor Jean Gibert of the Montessori Primary School of Barcelona):

Of course, sooner or later children fix their attention on the varying form of the notes and discover that this difference in form bears a relation to differences in time-value of the notes:

This is the time to give in very brief explanation the lesson on the value of the notes. Thereafter the child may write from memory a simple melody which the teacher has first played on the piano. Almost always the child writes this down with accuracy, showing that he has control over the musical values appearing in the melody in question. The child uses for this purpose a large green chart containing various musical staffs on which movable notes may be fixed at pleasure. These notes are equipped with a pin which may be pushed into the wood. The simple exercises given for the analysis of the measures, transferred into various keys, can after some practise in playing them on the system of plates be put into their copy books by the children. These exercises for measure-analysis are so simple that the children themselves have sometimes learned to play them on the piano. It then has happened that the class went of its own accord into the piano room; one child began to play and the others followed the music on the floor-line. The children as they walk ultimately come to sing the scales and the easy tunes (of which they have recognized the notes) pronouncing the names of the notes; but in so pronouncing them they soften, their voices to the point of attaining an expression which may be called even artistic. When the teacher plays, the music gains the added charm of harmony, since the teacher can give not only the simple scale, but the relative chords, and this gives the scale a vigorous and very sweet fullness.

These exercises in measure analysis have also been particularly useful in their application to gymnastic exercises. The children follow them with gymnastic movements, using especially the movements of Dalcroze, which are admirably adapted to the measures of 2/4, 3/4, 4/4, etc., and which have a real beauty. We discovered that these exercises proved to be complexly difficult for the children who had not practised sufficiently in the interpretation of the different note values. On the other hand, they were very easy for those who had come to have a clear feeling for these different values. This was proof to us that sensorial preparation must precede these exercises, and furthermore, that the only difficulty Dalcroze movements encounter in children arises from insufficient sensory preparation in the children themselves.

In the same way we illustrate the different details of of musical writing: the dotted note,

Here is an example of a legato effect:

This example which derives all its expressive value from the ties, also brings out the value of the note:

We need, accordingly, a collection of musical selections in which the value of the notes is obvious and clear to such an extent that the children come to recognize the different values. This recognition must be obtained by ear through listening to the music, not by eye looking at the symbols while the teacher explains.

The 1/4 note always has a different musical content from the 1/16 note. A musical piece made up of the 16th or 32d notes has a character of its own (joy or agitation); and a piece made up of half or whole notes has likewise its peculiar character (religious, sad, impressive).

The same may be said of every musical symbol, the value of which is brought out by the note being played with that value and in reference to that symbol. It has been held that in playing for children and in copying music for the use of children the expression-symbols should be suppressed. We should observe that these signs of expression bear to the music the relation that punctuation bears to the written sentence; their suppression takes away all value from the notes. For example, the legato and symbols which indicate that difference (symbol and dot) have therefore the greatest value.

The children succeed quite easily in using and reading the accessory symbols of music. They already know their meaning through having heard them. We have not found it necessary to use such signs as sense objects, such as bars (to be placed on the wooden staff to divide measure from measure), time fractions, parentheses and so on. Although we had these manufactured, we ultimately abandoned them because we found that they were simply in the way.

On the other hand, we found considerable utility in our large colored cards with a single staff already described. On these are written various measures which the children read with a special pleasure and execute on their bells.

With all this a way has been opened to a really musical education. Once Miss Maccheroni, while executing her customary rhythmic tunes, reproduced a melodious religious movement, "O Sanctissima," which the children heard for the first time. The children all left the line and gathered around the piano to listen. Two or three little girls kneeled on the floor and others remained motionless executing plastic poses with their arms. This revealed to us their sensitiveness to melody; they felt moved not to march but to pray and assume various poses.

We have not yet been able to push our experiments far enough precisely to define the musical material adapted to children of various ages. We have, however, made a very great number of successful attempts to bring children to enjoy melody and sentimental expression in music. The practicableness and utility of musical auditions, or, if you wish, of concerts for children, graduated in difficulty, executed on various instruments, but on one instrument at a time, are beyond all question; this applies above all to songs reproduced by the human voice, when a well-trained voice is available.

If a real artist should take up the task of analyzing for children the language of music, bringing them to enjoy it phrase by phrase and under different timbres (voice, strings, etc.), his new and scientific application of the art would be produced in the future from these groups of little ones, so intelligent in music, who follow the most expressive tunes with so much passion and in a silence more absolute than any celebrated artist can dream of attaining in a meeting of adults! No one among these little hearers is cold, far away in thought. But on the faces of the children appears the interior working of a spirit, tasting a nectar essential to its very live.

How many times a plastic pose, a kneeling posture, an ecstatic face, will move the heart of the artist to a sense of joy greater than that which any applause of a throng of people often indifferent or inattentive, can possibly give him! Usually only those wounded at heart by the difficulty of being understood by others, or discouraged by the coldness or rudeness of other people, or oppressed by disillusion, or filled with a sense of painful loneliness or need of expansion in some other way, feel in music the voice which opens the doors of the heart and causes a health-giving flood of tears or raises the spirit to a lofty sense of peace. Only they can understand how necessary a companion for humanity music is. We know, of course, to-day that music is an indispensable stimulant for soldiers rushing forth to die. How much more truly would it then become a stimulant for all who are to live!

This conviction is already in the hearts of many people. In fact, attempts have already been made to reach the populace by concerts in the public squares and by making concert halls accessible to people of every class; but after all, do such attempts amount to more than putting the cheap editions of the classics into circulation among illiterates? Education is the prime requisite; without such education we have a people of deaf mutes forever barred from any music. The ear of the uneducated man cannot perceive the sublime sounds which music would bring within his reach. That is why though the music of Bellini and Wagner is being played in public squares, the saloons are just as full as before.

If, however, from these pupils of ours a whole people could grow up, it would be sufficient to go through the streets with a good piece of music and everybody would come out to hear. All those places where the rough and abandoned wrecks of humanity seek enjoyment, like homeless dogs looking for food in our ash-cans, would be emptied as if by magic. We would have an actual realization of the Allegory of Orpheus; for hearts which are to-day of stone would then be stirred and brought to life by a sublime melody.

Singing

Singing began with the scale. The singing of a scale, first in accompaniment with the bells and later with the piano is a first and great delight to the children. They sing it in various ways, now in a low voice, now very loud, now all together in unison, now one by one. They sing divided into two groups, sharing the notes alternately between them. Among the songs which we offer to the children, the greatest favorite proved to be the syllabic Gregorian Chant. It is something like a very perfect form of speech. It has a conversational intonation, the softness of a sentence well pronounced, the full roundness of the musical phrase. The examples given here have almost the movement of the scale.

Many other verses of the Gregorian Chant have, like these, proved to be the delight of the Montessori Elementary School of Barcelona. There the children are especially keen about this very simple music which they like to play on the piano, on their plates (Xylophones) or on their monochords.

Musical Phrases for the Initial Rhythmic Exercises

We give here in complete form the musical phrases used by us for the first rhythmic exercises. They are adequate for giving the sensation of rhythm and for suggesting the motory actions associated with the rhythm. This musical material now forms in our schools part of the material which is experimentally established.

ANCORA UN BACIO
(Mazurka)

SI J'ÉTAIS ROI

EAGLE MARCH

[371]
[372]

GALOP

ITALIAN FOLK SONG

PAS DES PATINEURS

O SANCTISSIMA