A golden age of music followed the Renaissance in the 18th century. Chamber music and opera came into their own. Composers like Johann Sebastian Bach and George Frederic Handel laid the stylistic groundwork for classical as we now know it. The strides made in musical form were paced by developments in innovations in instruments. While Bach and the rest were writing their immortal music, Gottfried Silbermann was building his magnificent organs. Antonio Stradivari and his fellow Italian artisans were raising the craft of string instrument-making to a pinnacle never touched since.

It is interesting for a present-day person to contemplate the technological priorities that then prevailed back then. War was still being waged with swords, muskets, and cannons that had not changed greatly in 300 years. Long-range transportation remained burdensome and sailing ships. Industry ran primarily on hand labor. Yet, in the pursuit of beauty through music, there had been spectacular progress in the state of the art.

The brilliant versatility of the violin family had eclipsed all the bowed instruments before it. The invention of the piano in 1710 was a breakthrough in the quest for a standing concert instrument that would combine expressiveness, resonance, and range. Great organs with as many as five keyboards and 50 sets of pipes crowned cathedrals. Like space satellites today, they were the wonders of their age.

The circle of modern orchestral instruments was completed early in the 19th century when the introduction of valves brought out the full capabilities of the brass and woodwinds. The piano soon became the standard entertainment device in middle class European and American homes, much as the television set is now.

By the latter part of the century, everybody seemed to be playing, singing, dancing and listening to music; it was the leading public preoccupation. Its popularity gave rise to a fresh wave of speculation as to what it meant to mankind.

The German philosophers who were then probing the deepest reaches of thought attached considerable significance to it. Georg Wilhelm Hegel concluded that the music is latent in the listener, and that the external sounds draw it out. Arthur Schopenhauer observed that it is one art that works on the feelings directly, and not through the medium of thought; it therefore touches something in our being more subtle than the intellect. Friedrich Nietzsche reasoned that art is a natural defense against pessimism, and so the creation of art is a necessary human activity. He saw music, in effect, as an aspect of fantasy, and declared that fantasy is a sustaining and restorative force in life.

It is interesting that virtually the only joy these gloomy individuals ever experienced was through listening to and playing music (Schopenhauer played the flute, Nietzsche the piano). Music has always held a strong attraction to men and women of genius who were not necessarily accomplished musicians themselves. Perhaps this is because, as Walter Pater wrote, "All art constantly aspires to the condition of music." A highly creative person is likely to turn to it in an attempt to give vent to feelings that cannot be expressed in any other way.

Sheer intelligence, however, has never been enough to make a great musician or composer. Musical genius is largely a matter of having what experts can only describe as "the gift." One of the many mysteries of the art is how musical prodigies are able to master its bewildering complexities before other children have learned the alphabet; not only that, but to interpret them with a mature touch.

Yet, talent alone is not enough, either. To play or write music at its best takes self-sacrifice, discipline, and a great deal of effort. Years after he had won the title of the greatest pianist in the world, Jan Paderewski rose early every day to put in several hours of practice. Tshaikovsky thought that Brahms was "gift less." If so, Brahms made up for any deficiency in talent he might have had with legendary hard work.