term no longer has the fixed significance which once it had. It is now
applied to almost any group of short pieces, pleasantly contrasted in
rhythm, tempo, and mood, each complete in itself yet disclosing an
æsthetic relationship with its fellows. Sometimes old dance forms are
used, and sometimes new, such as the polonaise and the waltz. The
ballet music, which fills so welcome a place in popular programmes,
may be looked upon as such a suite, and the rhythm of the music and
the orchestral coloring in them are frequently those peculiar to the
dances of the countries in which the story of the opera or drama for
which the music was written plays. The ballets therefore afford an
excellent opportunity for the study of local color. Thus the ballet
music from Massenet's "Cid" is Spanish, from Rubinstein's "Feramors"
Oriental, from "Aïda" Egyptian--Oriental rhythms and colorings being
those most easily copied by composers.
[Sidenote: _Operatic excerpts._]
[Sidenote: _Gluck and Vestris._]
The other operatic excerpts common to concerts of both classes are
either between-acts music, fantasias on operatic airs, or, in the case
of Wagner's contributions, portions of his dramas which are so
predominantly instrumental that it has been found feasible to
incorporate the vocal part with the orchestral. In ballet music from
the operas of the last century, some of which has been preserved to
the modern concert-room, local color must not be sought. Gluck's
Greeks, like Shakespeare's, danced to the rhythms of the seventeenth
century. Vestris, whom the people of his time called "The god of the
dance," once complained to Gluck that his "Iphigénie en Aulide" did
not end with a chaconne, as was the rule. "A chaconne!" cried Gluck;
"when did the Greeks ever dance a chaconne?" "Didn't they? Didn't
they?" answered Vestris; "so much the worse for the Greeks." There
ensued a quarrel. Gluck became incensed, withdrew the opera which was
about to be produced, and would have left Paris had not Marie
Antoinette come to the rescue. But Vestris got his chaconne.
VI
_At a Pianoforte Recital_
[Sidenote: _Mr. Paderewski's concerts._]
No clearer illustration of the magical power which lies in music, no
more convincing proof of the puissant fascination which a musical
artist can exert, no greater demonstration of the capabilities of an
instrument of music can be imagined than was afforded by the
pianoforte recitals which Mr. Paderewski gave in the United States
during the season of 1895-96. More than threescore times in the course
of five months, in the principal cities of this country, did this
wonderful man seat himself in the presence of audiences, whose numbers
ran into the thousands, and were limited only by the seating capacity
of the rooms in which they gathered, and hold them spellbound from two
to three hours by the eloquence of his playing. Each time the people
came in a gladsome frame of mind, stimulated by the recollection of
previous delights or eager expectation. Each time they sat listening
to the music as if it were an evangel on which hung everlasting
things. Each time there was the same growth in enthusiasm which began
in decorous applause and ended in cheers and shouts as the artist came
back after the performance of a herculean task, and added piece after
piece to a programme which had been laid down on generous lines from
the beginning. The careless saw the spectacle with simple amazement,
but for the judicious it had a wondrous interest.
[Sidenote: _Pianoforte recitals._]
[Sidenote: _The pianoforte's underlying principles._]
I am not now concerned with Mr. Paderewski beyond invoking his aid in
bringing into court a form of entertainment which, in his hands, has
proved to be more attractive to the multitude than symphony, oratorio,
and even opera. What a world of speculation and curious inquiry does
such a recital invite one into, beginning with the instrument which
was the medium of communication between the artist and his hearers!
To follow the progressive development of the mechanical principles
underlying the pianoforte, one would be obliged to begin beyond the
veil which separates history from tradition, for the first of them
finds its earliest exemplification in the bow twanged by the primitive
savage. Since a recognition of these principles may help to an
understanding of the art of pianoforte playing, I enumerate them now.
They are:
1. A stretched string as a medium of tone production.
2. A key-board as an agency for manipulating the strings.
3. A blow as the means of exciting the strings to vibratory action, by
which the tone is produced.
[Sidenote: _Their Genesis._]
[Sidenote: _Significance of the pianoforte._]
Many interesting glimpses of the human mind and heart might we have in
the course of the promenade through the ancient, mediæval, and modern
worlds which would be necessary to disclose the origin and growth of
these three principles, but these we must forego, since we are to
study the music of the instrument, not its history. Let the knowledge
suffice that the fundamental principle of the pianoforte is as old as
music itself, and that scientific learning, inventive ingenuity, and
mechanical skill, tributary always to the genius of the art, have
worked together for centuries to apply this principle, until the
instrument which embodies it in its highest potency is become a
veritable microcosm of music. It is the visible sign of culture in
every gentle household; the indispensable companion of the composer
and teacher; the intermediary between all the various branches of
music. Into the study of the orchestral conductor it brings a
translation of all the multitudinous voices of the band; to the
choir-master it represents the chorus of singers in the church-loft or
on the concert-platform; with its aid the opera director fills his
imagination with the people, passions, and pageantry of the lyric
drama long before the singers have received their parts, or the
costumer, stage manager, and scene-painter have begun their work. It
is the only medium through which the musician in his study can
commune with the whole world of music and all its heroes; and though
it may fail to inspire somewhat of that sympathetic nearness which one
feels toward the violin as it nestles under the chin and throbs
synchronously with the player's emotions, or those wind instruments
into which the player breathes his own breath as the breath of life,
it surpasses all its rivals, save the organ, in its capacity for
publishing the grand harmonies of the masters, for uttering their
"sevenfold chorus of hallelujahs and harping symphonies."
[Sidenote: _Defects of the pianoforte._]
[Sidenote: _Lack of sustaining power._]
This is one side of the picture and serves to show why the pianoforte
is the most universal, useful, and necessary of all musical
instruments. The other side shows its deficiencies, which must also be
known if one is to appreciate rightly the many things he is called
upon to note while listening intelligently to pianoforte music.
Despite all the skill, learning, and ingenuity which have been spent
on its perfection, the pianoforte can be made only feebly to
approximate that sustained style of musical utterance which is the
soul of melody, and finds its loftiest exemplification in singing. To
give out a melody perfectly, presupposes the capacity to sustain tones
without loss in power or quality, to bind them together at will, and
sometimes to intensify their dynamic or expressive force while they
sound. The tone of the pianoforte, being produced by a blow, begins to
die the moment it is created. The history of the instrument's
mechanism, and also of its technical manipulation, is the history of
an effort to reduce this shortcoming to a minimum. It has always
conditioned the character of the music composed for the instrument,
and if we were not in danger of being led into too wide an excursion,
it would be profitable to trace the parallelism which is disclosed by
the mechanical evolution of the instrument, and the technical and
spiritual evolution of the music composed for it. A few points will be
touched upon presently, when the intellectual activity invited by a
recital is brought under consideration.
[Sidenote: _The percussive element._]
[Sidenote: _Melody with drum-beats._]
[Sidenote: _Rhythmical accentuation._]
[Sidenote: _A universal substitute._]
It is to be noted, further, that by a beautiful application of the
doctrine of compensations, the factor which limits the capacity of
the pianoforte as a melody instrument endows it with a merit which no
other instrument has in the same degree, except the instruments of
percussion, which, despite their usefulness, stand on the border line
between savage and civilized music. It is from its relationship to the
drum that the pianoforte derives a peculiarity quite unique in the
melodic and harmonic family. Rhythm is, after all, the starting-point
of music. More than melody, more than harmony, it stirs the blood of
the savage, and since the most vital forces within man are those which
date back to his primitive state, so the sense of rhythm is the most
universal of the musical senses among even the most cultured of
peoples to-day. By themselves the drums, triangles, and cymbals of an
orchestra represent music but one remove from noise; but everybody
knows how marvellously they can be utilized to glorify a climax. Now,
in a very refined degree, every melody on the pianoforte, be it played
as delicately as it may, is a melody with drum-beats. Manufacturers
have done much toward eliminating the thump of the hammers against the
strings, and familiarity with the tone of the instrument has closed
our ears against it to a great extent as something intrusive, but the
blow which excites the string to vibration, and thus generates sound,
is yet a vital factor in determining the character of pianoforte
music. The recurrent pulsations, now energetic, incisive, resolute,
now gentle and caressing, infuse life into the melody, and by
emphasizing its rhythmical structure (without unduly exaggerating it),
present the form of the melody in much sharper outline than is
possible on any other instrument, and much more than one would expect
in view of the evanescent character of the pianoforte's tone. It is
this quality, combined with the mechanism which places all the
gradations of tone, from loudest to softest, at the easy and
instantaneous command of the player, which, I fancy, makes the
pianoforte, in an astonishing degree, a substitute for all the other
instruments. Each instrument in the orchestra has an idiom, which
sounds incomprehensible when uttered by some other of its fellows, but
they can all be translated, with more or less success, into the
language of the pianoforte--not the quality of the tone, though even
that can be suggested, but the character of the phrase. The pianoforte
can sentimentalize like the flute, make a martial proclamation like
the trumpet, intone a prayer like the churchly trombone.
[Sidenote: _The instrument's mechanism._]
[Sidenote: _Tone formation and production._]
In the intricacy of its mechanism the pianoforte stands next to the
organ. The farther removed from direct utterance we are the more
difficult is it to speak the true language of music. The violin player
and the singer, and in a less degree the performers upon some of the
wind instruments, are obliged to form the musical tone--which, in the
case of the pianist, is latent in the instrument, ready to present
itself in two of its attributes in answer to a simple pressure upon
the key. The most unmusical person in the world can learn to produce a
series of tones from a pianoforte which shall be as exact in pitch and
as varied in dynamic force as can Mr. Paderewski. He cannot combine
them so ingeniously nor imbue them with feeling, but in the simple
matter of producing the tone with the attributes mentioned, he is on a
level with the greatest virtuoso. Very different is the case of the
musician who must exercise a distinctly musical gift in the simple
evocation of the materials of music, like the violinist and singer,
who both form and produce the tone. For them compensation flows from
the circumstance that the tone thus formed and produced is naturally
instinct with emotional life in a degree that the pianoforte tone
knows nothing of.
[Sidenote: _Technical manipulation._]
[Sidenote: _Touch and emotionality._]
In one respect, it may be said that the mechanics of pianoforte
playing represent a low plane of artistic activity, a fact which ought
always to be remembered whenever the temptation is felt greatly to
exalt the technique of the art; but it must also be borne in mind that
the mechanical nature of simple tone production in pianoforte playing
raises the value of the emotional quality which, nevertheless, stands
at the command of the player. The emotional potency of the tone must
come from the manner in which the blow is given to the string.
Recognition of this fact has stimulated reflection, and this in turn
has discovered methods by which temperament and emotionality may be
made to express themselves as freely, convincingly, and spontaneously
in pianoforte as in violin playing. If this were not so it would be
impossible to explain the difference in the charm exerted by different
virtuosi, for it has frequently happened that the best-equipped
mechanician and the most intellectual player has been judged inferior
as an artist to another whose gifts were of the soul rather than of
the brains and fingers.
[Sidenote: _The technical cult._]
[Sidenote: _A low form of art._]
The feats accomplished by a pianoforte virtuoso in the mechanical
department are of so extraordinary a nature that there need be small
wonder at the wide prevalence of a distinctly technical cult. All who
know the real nature and mission of music must condemn such a cult. It
is a sign of a want of true appreciation to admire technique for
technique's sake. It is a mistaking of the outward shell for the
kernel, a means for the end. There are still many players who aim to
secure this admiration, either because they are deficient in real
musical feeling, or because they believe themselves surer of winning
applause by thus appealing to the lowest form of appreciation. In the
early part of the century they would have been handicapped by the
instrument which lent itself to delicacy, clearness, and gracefulness
of expression, but had little power. Now the pianoforte has become a
thing of rigid steel, enduring tons of strain from its strings, and
having a voice like the roar of many waters; to keep pace with it
players have become athletes with
"Thews of Anakim
And pulses of a Titan's heart."
[Sidenote: _Technical skill a matter of course._]
They care no more for the "murmurs made to bless," unless it be
occasionally for the sake of contrast, but seek to astound, amaze,
bewilder, and confound with feats of skill and endurance. That with
their devotion to the purely mechanical side of the art they are
threatening to destroy pianoforte playing gives them no pause
whatever. The era which they illustrate and adorn is the technical era
which was, is, and ever shall be, the era of decay in artistic
production. For the judicious technique alone, be it never so
marvellous, cannot serve to-day. Its possession is accepted as a
condition precedent in the case of everyone who ventures to appear
upon the concert-platform. He must be a wonder, indeed, who can
disturb our critical equilibrium by mere digital feats. We want
strength and velocity of finger to be coupled with strength, velocity,
and penetration of thought. We want no halting or lisping in the
proclamation of what the composer has said, but we want the contents
of his thought, not the hollow shell, no matter how distinctly its
outlines be drawn.
[Sidenote: _The plan of study in this chapter._]
[Sidenote: _A typical scheme of pieces._]
The factors which present themselves for consideration at a pianoforte
recital--mechanical, intellectual, and emotional--can be most
intelligently and profitably studied along with the development of the
instrument and its music. All branches of the study are invited by
the typical recital programme. The essentially romantic trend of Mr.
Paderewski's nature makes his excursions into the classical field few
and short; and it is only when a pianist undertakes to emulate
Rubinstein in his historical recitals that the entire pre-Beethoven
vista is opened up. It will suffice for the purposes of this
discussion to imagine a programme containing pieces by Bach, D.
Scarlatti, Handel, and Mozart in one group; a sonata by Beethoven;
some of the shorter pieces of Schumann and Chopin, and one of the
transcriptions or rhapsodies of Liszt.
[Sidenote: _Periods in pianoforte music._]
Such a scheme falls naturally into four divisions, plainly
differentiated from each other in respect of the style of composition
and the manner of performance, both determined by the nature of the
instrument employed and the status of the musical idea. Simply for the
sake of convenience let the period represented by the first group be
called the classic; the second the classic-romantic; the third the
romantic, and the last the bravura. I beg the reader, however, not to
extend these designations beyond the boundaries of the present study;
they have been chosen arbitrarily, and confusion might result if the
attempt were made to apply them to any particular concert scheme. I
have chosen the composers because of their broadly representative
capacity. And they must stand for a numerous _epigonoi_ whose names
make up our concert lists: say, Couperin, Rameau, and Haydn in the
first group; Schubert in the second; Mendelssohn and Rubinstein in the
third. It would not be respectful to the memory of Liszt were I to
give him the associates with whom in my opinion he stands; that matter
may be held in abeyance.
[Sidenote: _Predecessors of the pianoforte._]
[Sidenote: _The Clavichord._]
[Sidenote: _"Bebung."_]
The instruments for which the first group of writers down to Haydn and
Mozart wrote, were the immediate precursors of the pianoforte--the
clavichord, spinet, or virginal, and harpsichord. The last was the
concert instrument, and stood in the same relationship to the others
that the grand pianoforte of to-day stands to the upright and square.
The clavichord was generally the medium for the composer's private
communings with his muse, because of its superiority over its fellows
in expressive power; but it gave forth only a tiny tinkle and was
incapable of stirring effects beyond those which sprang from pure
emotionality. The tone was produced by a blow against the string,
delivered by a bit of brass set in the farther end of the key. The
action was that of a direct lever, and the bit of brass, which was
called the tangent, also acted as a bridge and measured off the
segment of string whose vibration produced the desired tone. It was
therefore necessary to keep the key pressed down so long as it was
desired that the tone should sound, a fact which must be kept in mind
if one would understand the shortcomings as well as the advantages of
the instrument compared with the spinet or harpsichord. It also
furnishes one explanation of the greater lyricism of Bach's music
compared with that of his contemporaries. By gently rocking the hand
while the key was down, a tremulous motion could be communicated to
the string, which not only prolonged the tone appreciably but gave it
an expressive effect somewhat analogous to the vibrato of a violinist.
The Germans called this effect _Bebung_, the French _Balancement_, and
it was indicated by a row of dots under a short slur written over the
note. It is to the special fondness which Bach felt for the clavichord
that we owe, to a great extent, the cantabile style of his music, its
many-voicedness and its high emotionality.
[Sidenote: _Quilled instruments._]
[Sidenote: _Tone of the harpsichord and spinet._]
[Sidenote: _Bach's "Music of the future."_]
The spinet, virginal, and harpsichord were quilled instruments, the
tone of which was produced by snapping the strings by means of plectra
made of quill, or some other flexible substance, set in the upper end
of a bit of wood called the jack, which rested on the farther end of
the key and moved through a slot in the sounding-board. When the key
was pressed down, the jack moved upward past the string which was
caught and twanged by the plectrum. The blow of the clavichord tangent
could be graduated like that of the pianoforte hammer, but the quills
of the other instruments always plucked the strings with the same
force, so that mechanical devices, such as a swell-box, similar in
principle to that of the organ, coupling in octaves, doubling the
strings, etc., had to be resorted to for variety of dynamic effects.
The character of tone thus produced determined the character of the
music composed for these instruments to a great extent. The brevity of
the sound made sustained melodies ineffective, and encouraged the use
of a great variety of embellishments and the spreading out of
harmonies in the form of arpeggios. It is obvious enough that Bach,
being one of those monumental geniuses that cast their prescient
vision far into the future, refused to be bound by such mechanical
limitations. Though he wrote _Clavier_, he thought organ, which was
his true interpretative medium, and so it happens that the greatest
sonority and the broadest style that have been developed in the
pianoforte do not exhaust the contents of such a composition as the
"Chromatic Fantasia and Fugue."
[Sidenote: _Scarlatti's sonatas._]
The earliest music written for these instruments--music which does
not enter into this study--was but one remove from vocal music. It
came through compositions written for the organ. Of Scarlatti's music
the pieces most familiar are a Capriccio and Pastorale which Tausig
rewrote for the pianoforte. They were called sonatas by their
composer, but are not sonatas in the modern sense. Sonata means
"sound-piece," and when the term came into music it signified only
that the composition to which it was applied was written for
instruments instead of voices. Scarlatti did a great deal to develop
the technique of the harpsichord and the style of composing for it.
His sonatas consist each of a single movement only, but in their
structure they foreshadow the modern sonata form in having two
contrasted themes, which are presented in a fixed key-relationship.
They are frequently full of grace and animation, but are as purely
objective, formal, and soulless in their content as the other
instrumental compositions of the epoch to which they belong.
[Sidenote: _The suite._]
[Sidenote: _Its history and form._]
[Sidenote: _The bond between the movements._]