CHAPTER III.

THE ACADEMICS.

_John Knowles Paine._

[Illustration: JOHN KNOWLES PAINE.]

[Illustration: Autograph of John K. Paine]

There is one thing better than modernity,--it is immortality. So while

I am a most ardent devotee of modern movements, because they are at

worst experiments, and motion is necessary to life, I fail to see why

it is necessary in picking up something new always to drop something

old, as if one were an awkward, butter-fingered parcel-carrier.

If a composer writes empty stuff in the latest styles, he is one

degree better than the purveyor of trite stuff in the old styles; but

he is nobody before the high thinker who finds himself suited by the

general methods of the classic writers.

The most classic of our composers is their venerable dean, John

Knowles Paine. It is an interesting proof of the youth of our native

school of music, that the principal symphony, "Spring," of our first

composer of importance, was written only twenty-one years ago. Before

Mr. Paine there had never been an American music writer worthy of

serious consideration in the larger forms.

By a mere coincidence Joachim Raff had written a symphony called

"Spring" in 1878, just a year before Paine finished his in America.

The first movement in both is called "Nature's Awakening;" such an

idea is inevitable in any spring composition, from poetry up--or down.

For a second movement Raff has a wild "Walpurgis Night Revel," while

Paine has a scherzo called "May Night Fantasy." Where Raff is uncanny

and fiendish, Paine is cheerful and elfin. The third movement of

Raff's symphony is called "First Blossoms of Spring," and the last is

called "The Joys of Wandering." The latter two movements of Mr.

Paine's symphony are "A Promise of Spring" and "The Glory of Nature."

The beginning of both symphonies is, of course, a slow introduction

representing the torpid gloom of winter, out of which spring aspires

and ascends.

Paine's symphony, though aiming to shape the molten gold of April

fervor in the rigid mold of the symphonic form, has escaped every

appearance of mechanism and restraint. It is program music of the most

legitimate sort, in full accord with Beethoven's canon, "Mehr Ausdruck

der Empfindung als Malerei." It has no aim of imitating springtime

noises, but seeks to stimulate by suggestion the hearer's creative

imagination, and provoke by a musical telepathy the emotions that

swayed the nympholept composer.

The first movement of the symphony has an introduction

containing two motives distinct from the two subjects of the

movement. These motives represent Winter and the Awakening.

The Winter motive may be again divided into a chill and icy

motif and a rushing wind-motif. Through these the timid

Awakening spirit lifts its head like the first trillium of

the year. There is a silence and a stealthy flutter of the

violins as if a cloud of birds were playing courier to the

Spring.

Suddenly, after a little prelude, as if a bluebird were

tuning his throat, we are enveloped in the key of the

symphony (A major) and the Spring runs lilting up the 'cellos

to the violins (which are divided in the naif archaic

interval of the tenth, too much ignored in our over-colored

harmonies). The second subject is propounded by the oboes

(in the rather unusual related key of the submediant). This

is a lyrical and dancing idea, and it does battle with the

underground resistance of the Winter motives. There is an

elaborate conclusion of fiercest joy. Its ecstasy droops, and

after a little flutter as of little wings, the elaboration

opens with the Spring motive in the minor. In this part,

scholarship revels in its own luxury, the birds quiver about

our heads again, and the reprise begins (in A major of

course) with new exultance, the dancing second subject

appears (in the tonic), overwhelming the failing strength of

the Winter with a cascade of delight. Then the conclusion

rushes in; this I consider one of the most joyous themes ever

inspired.

There is a coda of vanishing bird-wings and throats, a

pizzicato chord on the strings--and Spring has had her

coronation.

"The May Night Fantasy" is a moonlit revel of elves caught by

a musical reporter, a surreptitious "chiel amang 'em takin'

notes." A single hobgoblin bassoon croaks ludicrously away,

the pixies darkle and flirt and dance their hearts out of

them.

The Romance is in rondo form with love-lorn iteration of

themes and intermezzo, and deftest broidery, the whole

ending, after a graceful Recollection, in a bliss of harmony.

The Finale is a halleluiah. It is on the sonata formula,

without introduction (the second subject being not in the

dominant of A major, but in C major, that chaste, frank key

which one of the popes strangely dubbed "lascivious"). The

elaboration is frenetic with strife, but the reprise is a

many-hued rainbow after storm, and the coda in A major

(ending a symphony begun in A minor) is swift with delight.

This symphony has been played much, but not half enough. It should

resist the weariness of time as immortally as Fletcher's play, "The

Two Noble Kinsmen" (in which Shakespeare's hand is glorious), for it

is, to quote that drama, "fresher than May, sweeter than her gold

buttons on the bough, or all th'enamell'd knacks o' the mead or

garden."

John Knowles Paine is a name that has been held in long and high

honor among American composers. He was about the earliest of native

writers to convince foreign musicians that some good could come out of

Nazareth.

He was born in Portland, Me., January 9, 1839. He studied music first

under a local teacher, Kotzschmar, making his debut as organist at the

age of eighteen. A year later he was in Berlin, where for three years

he studied the organ, composition, instrumentation, and singing under

Haupt, Wieprecht, and others. He gave several organ concerts in

Germany, and made a tour in 1865-1866. In February, 1867, his "Mass"

was given at the Berlin Singakademie, Paine conducting. Then he came

back to the States, and in 1872 was appointed to an instructorship of

music at Harvard, whence he was promoted in 1876 to a full

professorship, a chair created for him and occupied by him ever since

with distinguished success.

His first symphony was brought out by Theodore Thomas in 1876. This

and his other orchestral works have been frequently performed at

various places in this country and abroad.

His only oratorio, "St. Peter," was first produced at Portland in

1873, and in Boston a year later. It is a work of great power and much

dramatic strength. Upton, in his valuable work, "Standard Oratorios,"

calls it "from the highest standpoint the only oratorio yet produced

in this country."

This oratorio, while containing much of the floridity and repetition

of Haendel at his worst, is also marked with the erudition and

largeness of Haendel at his best. The aria for St. Peter, "O God, My

God, Forsake Me Not," is especially fine.

A much-played symphonic poem is Paine's "The Tempest," which develops

musically the chief episodes of Shakespeare's play. He has also

written a valuable overture to "As You Like It;" he has set Keats'

"Realm of Fancy" exquisitely, and Milton's "Nativity." And he has

written a grand opera on a mediaeval theme to his own libretto. This is

a three-act work called "Azara;" the libretto has been published by

the Riverside Press, and is to be translated into German. This has not

yet been performed. Being, unfortunately, an American grand opera, it

takes very little acuteness of foresight to predict a long wait before

it is ever heard. In it Paine has shown himself more a romanticist

than a classicist, and the work is said to be full of modernity.

Paine wrote the music for Whittier's "Hymn," used to open the

Centennial Exposition at Philadelphia, and was fitly chosen to write

the Columbus March and Hymn for the opening ceremonies of the World's

Fair, at Chicago, October 21, 1892. This was given by several thousand

performers under the direction of Theodore Thomas.

A most original and interesting work is the chorus, "Phoebus, Arise."

It seems good to hark back for words to old William Drummond "of

Hawthornden." The exquisite flavor of long-since that marks the poetry

is conserved in the tune. While markedly original, it smacks agreeably

of the music of Harry Lawes, that nightingale of the seventeenth

century, whose fancies are too much neglected nowadays.

Paine's strong point is his climaxes, which are never timid, and are

often positively titanic, thrilling. The climax of this chorus is

notably superb, and the voices hold for two measures after the

orchestra finishes. The power of this effect can be easily imagined.

This work is marked, to an unusual extent, with a sensuousness of

color.

The year eighteen hundred eighty-one saw the first production of what

is generally considered Paine's most important composition, and by

some called the best work by an American,--his setting of the choruses

of the "Oedipus Tyrannos" of Sophokles. It was written for the

presentation by Harvard University, and has been sung, in whole or in

part, very frequently since. This masterpiece of Grecian genius is so

mighty in conception and so mighty in execution that it has not lost

power at all in the long centuries since it first thrilled the Greeks.

To realize its possibilities musically is to give proof enough of the

very highest order of genius,--a genius akin to that of Sophokles. It

may be said that in general Paine has completely fulfilled his

opportunities.

Mendelssohn also set two Greek tragedies to music, Sophokles' "Oedipus

in Kolonos" and his "Antigone." Mendelssohn is reported to have made a

first attempt at writing Grecian music, or what we suppose it to be,

mainly a matter of unison and meagre instrumentation. He was soon

dissuaded from such a step, however, and wisely. The Greek tragedians,

really writers of grand opera, made undoubted use of the best musical

implements and knowledge they had. Creative emotion has its

prosperity in the minds of its audience, not in the accuracy of its

mechanism. To secure the effect on us that the Greek tragedians

produced on contemporary audiences, it is necessary that our music be

a sublimation along the lines we are accustomed to, as theirs was

along lines familiar to them and effective with them. Otherwise,

instead of being moved by the miseries of Oedipus, we should be

chiefly occupied with amusement at the oddity of the music, and soon

bored unendurably by its monotony and thinness.

Mendelssohn decided then to use unison frequently for suggestion's

sake, but not to carry it to a fault. His experiments along these

lines have been of evident advantage to Paine, who has, however, kept

strictly to his own individuality, and produced a work that, at its

highest, reaches a higher plane, in my opinion, than anything in

Mendelssohn's noble tragedies,--and I am not, at that, one of those

that affect to look down upon the achievements of the genius that

built "Elijah."

Paine's prelude is an immense piece of work, in every way larger and

more elaborate than that to Mendelssohn's "Antigone" (the "Oedipus

in Kolonos" begins strongly with only one period of thirteen

measures). The opening chorus of Paine's "Oedipus" is the weakest

thing in the work. The second strophe has a few good moments, but soon

falls back into what is impudent enough to be actually catchy!--and

that, too, of a Lowell Mason, Moody and Sankey catchiness. Curiously

enough, Mendelssohn's "Antigone" begins with a chorus more like a

drinking-song than anything else, and the first solo is pure

_Volkslied_; both of them imbued with a Teutonic flavor that could be

cut with a knife. In Mendelssohn's "Oedipus in Kolonos," however,

the music expresses emotion rather than German emotion, and abounds in

splendors of harmony that are strikingly Wagnerian--in advance.

[Music: Copyright, 1895, by Arthur P. Schmidt.

POSTLUDE TO "OEDIPUS TYRANNUS," BY J.K. PAINE.]

Paine's second chorus describes the imaginary pursuit by Fate of the

murderer of King Laius. It is full of grim fire, and the second

strophe is at first simply terrible with awe. Then it degenerates

somewhat into an arioso, almost Italian. The fourth chorus defends the

oracles from Jocasta's incredulity. It is written almost in march

measure, and is full of robor.

At this point in the tragedy, where it begins to transpire to

Oedipus that he himself was the unwitting murderer and the

incestuous wretch whose exile the oracle demands before dispelling the

plague,--here the divine genius of Sophokles introduces a chorus of

general merriment, somewhat as Shakespeare uses the maundering fool as

a foil to heighten King Lear's fate. No praise can be too high for

Paine's music here. Its choric structure is masterly, its spirit is

running fire. Note, as an instance, the effect at the words "To save

our land thou didst rise as a tower!" where the music itself is

suddenly uplift with most effective suggestion.

The sixth chorus shows the effect of Oedipus' divulged guilt and the

misery of this fool of Fate. The music is an outburst of sheer genius.

It is overpowering, frightening. The postlude is orchestral, with the

chorus speaking above the music. Jocasta has hanged herself, Oedipus

has torn out his own eyes with her brooch. The music is a fitting

reverie on the great play, and after a wild tumult it subsides in a

resigned quietude.

From Greek tragedy to Yankee patriotism is a long cry, yet I think

Paine has not wasted his abilities on his "Song of Promise," written

for the Cincinnati May Festival of 1888. Though the poem by Mr. George

E. Woodberry is the very apotheosis of American brag, it has a

redeeming technic. The music, for soprano solo, mixed chorus, and

orchestra, reaches the very peaks of inspiration. I doubt if any

living composer or many dead masters could grow so epic, as most of

this. In a way it is academic. It shows a little of the influence of

Wagner,--as any decent music should nowadays. But it is not Wagner's

music, and it is not trite academia. There is no finicky tinsel and no

cheap oddity.

Considering the heights at which both words and music aimed, it is

amazing that they did not fall into utter wreck and nauseating bathos.

That they have proved so effective shows the sure-footedness of

genius. It is all good, especially the soprano solo.

This music is exquisite, wondrously exquisite, and it is followed by a

maestoso e solenne movement of unsurpassable majesty. I have never

read anything more purely what music should be for grandeur. And it

praises our ain countree! It might well be taken up by some of our

countless vocal societies to give a much needed respite to Haendel's

threadbare "Messiah."

When one considers the largeness of the works to which Paine has

devoted himself chiefly, he can be excused for the meagreness and

comparative unimportance of his smaller works for piano and vocal

solo. The only song of his I care for particularly is "A Bird upon a

Rosy Bough" (op. 40), which is old-fashioned, especially in

accompaniment, yet at times delicious. The song "Early Spring-time" is

most curiously original.

Of piano pieces there are a sprightly "Birthday Impromptu" and a fuga

giocosa, which deals wittily with that theme known generally by the

words "Over the Fence Is Out!" The "Nocturne" begins like Schumann,

falls into the style of his second Novellette, thence to the largo of

Beethoven's Sonata (op. 10, No. 3), thence to Chopinism, wherein it

ends, an interesting assemblage withal!

A long "Romance" for the piano is marked by some excellent incidents

and much passion, but it lacks unity. It is the last work in "An Album

of Pianoforte Pieces," which is otherwise full of rare delights. It is

made up of opera 25, 26, and 39. Opus 25 contains four characteristic

pieces,--a "Dance" full of dance-rapture, a most original "Impromptu,"

and a "Rondo Giocoso," which is just the kind of brilliantly witty

scherzo whose infrequency in American music is so lamentable and so

surprising. Opus 26 includes ten sketches, all good, especially

"Woodnotes," a charming tone-poem, the deliciously simple "Wayside

Flowers," "Under the Lindens," which is a masterpiece of beautiful

syncopation, a refreshingly interesting bit in the hackneyed

"Millstream" form, and a "Village Dance," which has much of that

quaint flavor that makes Heller's etudes a perennial delight.

Besides these, there are a number of motets, organ preludes, string

quartettes, concert pieces for violin, 'cello, piano, and the like, all

contributing to the furtherance of an august fame.

_Dudley Buck._

Music follows the laws of supply and demand just as the other

necessities of life do. But before a demand could exist for it in its

more austere and unadulterated forms, the general taste for it must be

improved. For this purpose the offices of skilful compromisers were

required, composers who could at the same time please the popular

taste and teach it discrimination. Among these invaluable workers, a

high place belongs, in point both of priority and achievement, to

Dudley Buck. He has been a powerful agent, or reagent, in converting

the stagnant ferment into a live and wholesome ebullition, or as the

old Greek evolutionists would say, starting the first progress in the

primeval ooze of American Philistinism.

A more thoroughly New England ancestry it would be hard to find. The

founder of the family came over from England soon after the

_Mayflower_ landed. Buck was named after Governor Dudley of the

Plymouth Colony. He was born at Hartford, March 10, 1839. His father

was a prosperous shipping merchant, one of whose boats, during the

Civil War, towed the _Monitor_ from New York to Fortress Monroe on the

momentous voyage that destroyed the _Merrimac's_ usefulness.

Buck, though intended for commercial life, borrowed a work on

thorough-bass and a flute and proceeded to try the wings of his muse.

A melodeon supplanted the flute, and when he was sixteen he attained

the glory of a piano, a rare possession in those times. (Would that it

were rarer now!) He took a few lessons and played a church-organ for a

salary,--a small thing, but his own.

After reaching the junior year in Trinity College, he prevailed upon

his parents to surrender him to music, an almost scandalous career in

the New England mind of that day, still unbleached of its Blue Laws.

At the age of nineteen he went to Leipzig and entered the Conservatory

there, studying composition under Hauptmann and E.F. Richter,

orchestration under Rietz, and the piano under Moscheles and Plaidy.

Later he went to Dresden and studied the organ with Schneider.

After three years in Germany, he studied for a year in Paris, and came

home, settling down in Hartford as church-organist and teacher. He

began a series of organ-concert tours lasting fifteen years. He played

in almost every important city and in many small towns, popularizing

the best music by that happy fervor of interpretation which alone is

needed to bring classical compositions home to the public heart. In

1869 he was called to the "mother-church" of Chicago. In the Chicago

fire he lost many valuable manuscripts, including a concert overture

on Drake's exquisite poem, "The Culprit Fay," which must be especially

regretted. He moved his family to Boston, assuming in ten days the

position of organist at St. Paul's; and later he accepted charge of

"the great organ" at Music Hall,--that organ of which Artemus Ward

wrote so deliciously.

In 1875 Theodore Thomas, whose orchestra had performed many of Buck's

compositions, invited him to become his assistant conductor at the

Cincinnati Music Festival and at the last series of concerts at the

Central Park Garden in New York. Buck accepted and made his home in

Brooklyn, where he has since remained as organist of the Holy Trinity

Church, and conductor of the Apollo Club, which he founded and brought

to a high state of efficiency, writing for it many of his numerous

compositions for male voices.

Buck's close association with church work has naturally led him

chiefly into sacred music, and in this class of composition he is by

many authorities accorded the very highest place among American

composers. He has also written many organ solos, sonatas, marches, a

pastorale, a rondo caprice, and many concert transcriptions, as well

as a group of etudes for pedal phrasing, and several important

treatises on various musical topics. His two "Motett Collections" were

a refreshing relief and inspiration to church choirs thirsty for

religious Protestant music of some depth and warmth.

In the cantata form Buck also holds a foremost place. In 1876 he was

honored with a commission to set to music "The Centennial Meditation

of Columbia," a poem written for the occasion by the Southern poet,

Sidney Lanier. This was performed at the opening of the Philadelphia

Exhibition by a chorus of one thousand voices, an organ, and an

orchestra of two hundred pieces under the direction of Theodore

Thomas. In 1874 he made a metrical version of "The Legend of Don

Munio" from Irving's "Alhambra," and set it to music for a small

orchestra and chorus. Its adaptability to the resources of the vocal

societies of smaller cities has made it one of his most popular works.

Another bit of Washington Irving is found in Buck's cantata, "The

Voyage of Columbus," the libretto for which he has taken from Irving's

"Life of Columbus." It consists of six night-scenes,--"The Chapel of

St. George at Palos," "On the Deck of the _Santa Maria_," "The Vesper

Hymn," "Mutiny," "In Distant Andalusia," and "Land and Thanksgiving."

The opportunities here for Buck's skilful handling of choruses and his

dramatic feeling in solos are obvious, and the work has been

frequently used both in this country and in Germany with much success.

Buck, in fact, made the German libretto as well as the English, and

has written the words for many of his compositions. His largest work

was "The Light of Asia," composed in 1885 and based on Sir Edwin

Arnold's epic. It requires two and one-half hours for performance and

has met the usual success of Buck's music; it was produced in London

with such soloists as Nordica, Lloyd, and Santley. It has been

occasionally given here.

He has found the greater part of his texts in American poetry,

particularly in Lanier, Stedman, and Longfellow, whose "King Olaf's

Christmas" and "Nun of Nidaros" he has set to music, as well as his

"Golden Legend," which won a prize of one thousand dollars at the

Cincinnati Festival in a large competition. His work is analyzed very

fully in A.J. Goodrich' "Musical Analysis."

[Music:

High in the purer air,

High as the heart's desire,

In a passion of longing and fire,

A bird sings sweet and fair;

While a sunbeam, cheery and strong,

Answers the joy of the song,

And Spring, fair Spring is coming!

Copyright, 1893, by G. Schirmer.

FRAGMENT FROM "SPRING'S AWAKENING," BY MR. BUCK.]

Here, as in his symphonic overture to Scott's "Marmion," Buck has

adopted the Wagnerian idea of the _leit-motif_ as a vivid means of

distinguishing musically the various characters and their varying

emotions. His music is not markedly Wagnerian, however, in other

ways, but seems to show, back of his individuality, an assimilation of

the good old school of canon and fugue, with an Italian tendency to

the declamatory and well-rounded melodic period.

It might be wished that in his occasional secular songs Buck had

followed less in the steps of the Italian aria and the English ballad

and adopted more of the newer, nobler spirit of the _Lied_ as Schumann

and Franz represent it, and as many of our younger Americans have done

with thorough success and not a little of exaltation. Note for

instance the inadequacy of the old-style balladry to both its own

opportunity and the otherwise-smothered fire of such a poem as Sidney

Lanier's "Sunset," which is positively Shakespearean in its passionate

perfection.

In religious music, however, Mr. Buck has made a niche of its own for

his music, which it occupies with grace and dignity.

_Horatio W. Parker._

[Illustration: Autograph of Horatio W. Parker]

[Illustration: HORATIO W. PARKER.]

When one considers the enormous space occupied by the hymn-tune in New

England musical activity, it is small wonder that most of its

composers should display hymnal proclivities. Both Buck and Parker

are natives of New England.

Parker was born, September 15, 1863, at Auburndale, Mass. His mother

was his first teacher of music. She was an organist, and gave him a

thorough technical schooling which won the highest commendation later

from Rheinberger, who entrusted to him the first performance of a new

organ concerto. After some study in Boston under Stephen A. Emery,

John Orth, and G.W. Chadwick, Parker went to Munich at the age of

eighteen, where he came under the special favor of Rheinberger, and

where various compositions were performed by the Royal Music School

orchestra. After three years of Europe, he returned to America and

assumed the direction of the music at St. Paul's school. He has held

various posts since, and has been, since 1894, the Battell Professor

of Music at Yale.

His rather imposing list of works includes a symphony (1885), an

operetta, a concert overture (1884), an overture, "Regulus" (1885),

performed in Munich and in London, and an overture, "Count Robert of

Paris" (1890), performed in New York, a ballad for chorus and

orchestra, "King Trojan," presented in Munich in 1885, the

Twenty-third Psalm for female chorus and orchestra (1884), an "Idylle"

(1891); "The Normans," "The Kobolds," and "Harold Harfager," all for

chorus and orchestra, and all dated 1891; an oratorio, three or more

cantatas, and various bits of chamber-music. His opus number has

already reached forty-three, and it is eked out to a very small degree

by such imponderous works as organ and piano solos, hymns, and songs.

In 1893, Parker won the National Conservatory prize for a cantata, and

in 1898 the McCagg prize for an a cappella chorus.

Parker's piano compositions and secular songs are not numerous. They

seem rather the incidental byplays and recreations of a fanry chiefly

turned to sacred music of the larger forms.

Opus 19 consists of "Four Sketches," of which the "Etude Melodieuse"

is as good as is necessary in that overworked style, wherein a thin

melody is set about with a thinner ripple of arpeggios. The "Romanza"

is lyric and delightful, while the "Scherzino" is delicious and crisp

as celery; it is worthy of Schumann, whom it suggests, and many of

whose cool tones and mannerisms it borrows.

The "5 Morceaux Characteristiques" are on the whole better. The

"Scherzo" is shimmering with playfulness, and, in the Beethoven

fashion, has a tender intermezzo amoroso. This seriousness is enforced

with an ending of a most plaintive nature. The "Caprice" is brilliant

and whimsical, with some odd effects in accent. The "Gavotte" makes

unusual employment of triplets, but lacks the precious yeast of

enthusiasm necessary to a prime gavotte.

This enthusiasm is not lacking however from his "Impromptu," and it

makes his "Elegie" a masterly work, possibly his best in the smaller

lines. This piece is altogether elegiac in spirit, intense in its

sombrest depths, impatient with wild outcries,--like Chopin's "Funeral

March,"--and working up to an immense passion at the end. This

subsides in ravishingly liquid arpeggios,--"melodious tears"?--which

obtain the kindred effect of Chopin's tinkling "Berceuse" in a

slightly different way. This notable work is marred by an interlude in

which the left hand mumbles harshness in the bass, while the right

hand is busy with airy fioriture. It is too close a copy of the finish

of the first movement of Beethoven's "Moonlight" sonata. The

lengthening skips of the left hand are also Beethovenesque trademarks.

Parker is rather old-fashioned in his forms of musical speech. That

is, he has what you might call the narrative style. He follows his

theme as an absorbing plot, engaging enough in itself, without

gorgeous digressions and pendent pictures. His work has something of

the Italian method. A melody or a theme, he seems to think, is only

marred by abstruse harmony, and is endangered by diversions. One might

almost say that a uniform lack of attention to color-possibilities and

a monotonous fidelity to a cool, gray tone characterize him. His

fondness for the plain, cold octave is notable. It is emphasized by

the ill-success of his "Six Lyrics for Piano, without octaves." They

are all of thin value, and the "Novelette" is dangerously

Schumannesque.

The "Three Love Songs" are happy, "Love's Chase" keeping up the arch

raillery and whim of Beddoe's verse. "Orsame's Song" is smooth and

graceful, ending with a well-blurted, abrupt "The devil take her!" The

"Night-piece to Julia" is notable. We have no poet whose lyrics are

harder to set to music than good Robin Herrick's. They have a lilt of

their own that is incompatible with ordinary music. Parker has,

however, been completely successful in this instance. A mysterious,

night-like carillon accompaniment, delicate as harebells, gives sudden

way to a superb support of a powerful outburst at the end of the song.

[Music:

The stars of the night

Will lend thee their light,

Like tapers without number.

Then, Julia let me woo thee,

Thus to come unto me;

And when I shall meet

Thy silvery feet

My soul I'll pour into thee,

My soul I'll pour into thee, into thee.

Copyright, 1886, by Arthur P. Schmidt & Co.

FRAGMENT OF MR. PARKER'S SONG, "NIGHT-PIECE TO JULIA."]

The "Six Songs" show not a little of that modernity and opulent color

I have denied to the most of Mr. Parker's work. "Oh, Ask Me Not" is

nothing less than inspiration, rapturously beautiful, with a rich use

of unexpected intervals. The "Egyptian Serenade" is both novel and

beautiful. The other songs are good; even the comic-operatic flavor of

the "Cavalry Song" is redeemed by its catchy sweep.

Among a large number of works for the pipe-organ, few are so marked by

that purposeless rambling organists are so prone to, as the

"Fantaisie." The "Melody and Intermezzo" of opus 20 makes a sprightly

humoresque. The "Andante Religioso" of opus 17 has really an

allegretto effect, and is much better as a gay pastorale than as a

devotional exercise. It is much more shepherdly than the avowed

"Pastorale" (opus 20), and almost as much so as the "Eclogue,"

delicious with the organ's possibilities for reed and pipe effects.

The "Romanza" is a gem of the first water. A charming quaint effect

is got by the accompaniment of the air, played legato on the swell,

with an echo, staccato, of its own chords on the great. The interlude

is a tender melody, beautifully managed. The two "Concert Pieces" are

marked by a large simplicity in treatment, and have this rare merit,

that they are less gymnastic exercises than expressions of feeling. A

fiery "Triumphal March," a delightful "Canzonetta," and a noble

"Larghetto," of sombre, yet rich and well-modulated, colors, complete

the list of his works for the organ. None of these are registered with

over-elaboration.

To sacred music Parker has made important contributions. Besides a

dignified, yet impassioned, complete "Morning and Evening Service for

the Holy Communion," he has written several single songs and anthems.

It is the masterwork, "Hora Novissima," however, which lifts him above

golden mediocrity. From the three thousand lines of Bernard of Cluny's

poem, "De Contemptu Mundi," famous since the twelfth century, and made

music with the mellowness of its own Latin rhyme, Mrs. Isabella G.

Parker, the composer's mother, has translated 210 lines. The English

is hardly more than a loose paraphrase, as this random parallel

proves:

Pars mea, Rex meus, Most Mighty, most Holy,

In proprio Deus, How great is the glory,

Ipse decore. Thy throne enfolding.

Or this skilful evasion:

Tunc Jacob, Israel, All the long history,

Et Lia, tunc Rachel All the deep mystery

Efficietur. Through ages hidden.

But it is perhaps better for avoiding the Charybdis of literalness.

Those who accuse Rossini's "Stabat Mater" of a fervor more theatric

than religious, will find the same faults in Parker's work, along with

much that is purely ecclesiastical. Though his sorrow is apt to become

petulance, there is much that is as big in spirit as in handling. The

work is frequently Mendelssohnian in treatment. An archaism that might

have been spared, since so little of the poem was retained, is the sad

old Haendelian style of repeating the same words indefinitely, to all

neglect of emptiness of meaning and triteness. Thus the words "_Pars

mea, Rex meus_" are repeated by the alto exactly thirteen times!

which, any one will admit, is an unlucky number, especially since the

other voices keep tossing the same unlucky words in a musical

battledore.

The especially good numbers of the work (which was composed in 1892,

and first produced, with almost sensational success, in 1893) are: the

magnificent opening chorus; the solo for the soprano; the large and

fiery finale to Part I.; the superb tenor solo, "Golden Jerusalem,"

which is possibly the most original and thrilling of all the numbers,

is, in every way, well varied, elaborated, and intensified, and

prepares well for the massive and effective double chorus, "Stant Syon

Atria," an imposing structure whose ambition found skill sufficing; an

alto solo of original qualities; and a finale, tremendous, though

somewhat long drawn out. Of this work, so careful a critic as W.J.

Henderson was moved to write:

"His melodic ideas are not only plentiful, but they are

beautiful, ... graceful and sometimes splendidly vigorous....

There is an a cappella chorus which is one of the finest

specimens of pure church polyphony that has been produced in

recent years.... It might have been written by Hobrecht,

Brumel, or even Josquin des Pres. It is impossible to write

higher praise than this.... The orchestration is

extraordinarily ... rich. As a whole ... the composition

... may be set down as one of the finest achievements of the

present day."

And Philip Hale, a most discriminant musical enthusiast, described the

chorus "Pars Mea" as:

"A masterpiece, true music of the church," to which "any

acknowledged master of composition in Europe would gladly

sign his name.... For the a cappella chorus there is nothing

but unbounded praise.... Weighing words as counters, I do not

hesitate to say that I know of no one in the country or in

England who could by nature and by student's sweat have

written those eleven pages.... I have spoken of Mr. Parker's

quasi-operatic tendency. Now he is a modern. He has shown in

this very work his appreciation and his mastery of antique

religious musical art. But as a modern he is compelled to

feel the force of the dramatic in religious music.... But his

most far-reaching, his most exalted and rapt conception of

the bliss beyond compare is expressed in the language of

Palestrina and Bach."

In September, 1899, the work was produced with decisive success in

London, Parker conducting.

Besides this, there are several secular cantatas, particularly "King

Trojan," which contains a singable tune for Trojan with many delicate

nuances in the accompaniment, and a harp-accompanied page's song that

is simply ambrosial. Then there is Arlo Bates' poem, "The Kobolds,"

which Parker has blessed with music as delicate as the laces of

gossamer-spiders.

His latest work is devoted to the legend of St. Christopher, and

displays the same abilities for massive and complex scoring whenever

the opportunity offers. On the other hand, the work discloses Parker's

weaknesses as well, for the libretto drags in certain love episodes

evidently thought desirable for the sake of contrast and yet

manifestly unnecessary to the story. The character of the queen, for

instance, is quite useless, and, in fact, disconcerting. The love

scene between the king and queen reminds one uncomfortably of Tristan

and Isolde, while a descending scale constantly used throughout the

work in the accompaniment incessantly suggests the "Samson and

Delilah" of Saint-Saens.

In spite of flaws, however,--flaws are to be had everywhere for the

looking,--Parker's work has its fine points. The struggle between the

demons and the singers of the sacred Latin Hymn has made excellent use

of the Tannhaeuser effect. The Cathedral scene shows Parker's resources

in the massive use of choruses to be very large. The barcarolling

billows of the river are ravishingly written, and the voice of the

child crying out is effectively introduced. The song the giant

Christopher sings through the storm is particularly superb.

_Frank van der Stucken._

[Illustration: FRANK VAN DER STUCKEN.]

On the bead-roll of those who have had both the ability and the

courage to take a stand for our music, the name of Frank van der

Stucken must stand high. His Americanism is very frail, so far as

birth and breeding count, but he has won his naturalization by his

ardor for native music.

Van der Stucken's life has been full of labors and honors. He was born

at Fredericksburg, Texas, in 1858, of a Belgian father and a German

mother. After the Civil War, in which the father served in the

Confederate army as a captain of the Texan cavalry, the family

returned to Belgium, where, at Antwerp, Van der Stucken studied under

Benoit. Here some of his music was played in the churches, and a

ballet at the Royal Theatre.

In 1878 he began studies in Leipzig, making important acquaintances,

such as Reinecke, Grieg, and Sinding. His first male chorus was sung

there, with great success. Of his fifth opus, consisting of nine

songs, Edvard Grieg wrote an enthusiastic criticism. After travelling

for some time, Van der Stucken was appointed kapellmeister at the

Breslau Stadt-Theatre. This was his debut as conductor. Here he

composed his well-known suite on Shakespeare's "Tempest," which has

been performed abroad and here. Here, also, he wrote a "Festzug," an

important work in Wagnerian style, and his passionate "Pagina

d'Amore," which, with the published portions of his lyric drama,

"Vlasda," has been performed by many great orchestras.

In 1883, Van der Stucken met Liszt, at Weimar, and under his auspices

gave a concert of his own compositions, winning the congratulations of

Grieg, Lassen, Liszt, and many other celebrated musicians. A prominent

German critic headed his review of the performance: "A new star on the

musical firmament."

Van der Stucken was now called to the directorship of the famous Arion

Male Chorus in New York, a position which he held for eleven years

with remarkable results. In 1892 he took his chorus on a tour in

Europe and won superlative praises everywhere.

In 1885 and successive years Van der Stucken conducted orchestral

"Novelty Concerts," which have an historical importance as giving the

first hearing to symphonic works by American composers. In Berlin and

in Paris he also gave our musicians the privilege of public

performance. From 1891 to 1894 he devoted himself to reforming the

Northeastern Saeengerbund, achieving the enormous task of making five

thousand male voices sing difficult music artistically. Since 1895 Van

der Stucken has been conductor of the newly formed Cincinnati Symphony

Orchestra, as well as dean of the faculty of the College of Music in

that city. The influence of this man, who is certainly one of the most

important musicians of his time, is bringing Cincinnati back to its

old musical prestige.

As a composer, Van der Stucken shows the same originality and power

that characterize him as an organizer. His prelude to the opera

"Vlasda" (op. 9) is one long rapture of passionate sweetness, superbly

instrumented. An arrangement of it has been made for the piano for

four hands by Horatio W. Parker.

Van der Stucken's music to "The Tempest" (op. 8) is published in three

forms. Besides the orchestral score, there is an arrangement for piano

solo, by A. Siloti, of the "Dance of the Gnomes," "Dance of the

Nymphs," and "Dance of the Reapers," the first and third being

especially well transcribed. For four hands, Hans Sitt has arranged

these three dances, as well as a short but rich "Exorcism," some

splendid melodramatic music, and the rattling grotesque, "The

Hound-chase after Caliban." All these pieces are finely imagined and

artistically handled.

For piano solo, there is a group of three Miniatures (op. 7). The

first is an Albumblatt of curious dun colors; the second is a

Capriccietto, a strange whim; the third is a beautiful bit called "May

Blossom."

[Music:

Der Stunde sei geflucht,

wo ich dein Herz gesucht,

wenn in dir diese Liebe

statt milder Freudentriebe

soll tragen herbe Frucht!

Gesegnet ist die Stunde,

sprach sie mit suessem Munde,

mir ist kein Leid geschehn

den Himmel fuehl' ich stehn

in meines Herzens Grunde.

That hour with curse be fraught,

In which thy heart I sought,

If I, in love bestowing,

Instead of gladness knowing,

A bitter grief have bought:

"My soul that hour e'er blesses,"

A rosy mouth confesses,

"Thy love is all I crave,

Then heav'n itself I have

Within my heart's recesses."

Copyright, 1892, by Friedrich Luckhardt, Berlin.

By permission of Luckhardt & Belder, New York.

FRAGMENT OF MR. VAN DER STUCKEN'S "DIE STUNDE SEI GESEGNET."]

Of Van der Stucken's songs I have seen two groups, the first a setting

of five love lyrics by Rueckert. None of these are over two pages long,

except the last. They are written in the best modern _Lied_ style, and

are quite unhackneyed. It is always the unexpected that happens,

though this unexpected thing almost always proves to be a right thing.

Without any sense of strain or bombast he reaches superb climaxes;

without eccentricity he is individual; and his songs are truly

interpreters of the words they express. Of these five, "Wann die Rosen

aufgeblueht" is a wonderfully fine and fiery work; "Die Stunde sei

gesegnet" has one of the most beautiful endings imaginable; "Mir ist,

nun ich die habe" has a deep significance in much simplicity, and its

ending, by breaking the rule against consecutive octaves, attains, as

rule-breakings have an unpleasant habit of doing, an excellent effect.

"Liebste, nur dich seh'n" is a passionate lyric; and "Wenn die

Voeglein sich gepaart" is florid and trilly, but legitimately so; it

should find much concert use. These songs, indeed, are all more than

melodies; they are expressions.

Of the second group of eight songs for low voice, "O Jugendlust" is

athrill with young ecstasy; "Einsame Thraene" has superb coloring, all

sombre, and a tremendous climax; "Seeligkeit" is big with emotion and

ravishing in harmony, "Ein Schaeferlied" is exquisite, "Von schoen

Sicilien war mein Traum" begins in the style of Lassen, but ends with

a strength and vigor far beyond that tender melodist. Besides these

groups, there is a rich lyric "Moonlight;" and there are many part

songs.

A work of considerable importance written many years before and

presented by Franz Liszt at Weimar had its first American production

in 1899, at Cincinnati and New York. It is a symphonic prologue to

Heine's tragedy, "William Ratcliff." The different psychological

phases of the tragedy are presented by characteristic motives which

war among themselves. The Scottish locale is indicated vividly, and

the despair of the lovers presented in one place by the distortion and

rending of all the principal motives. A dirge with bells and a final

musing upon, and resignation before, implacable Fate give a dignified

close to a work in which passion is exploited with erudition and

modernity.

_W.W. Gilchrist._

The prize competition has its evils, unquestionably; and, in a place

of settled status, perhaps, they outnumber its benefits. But in

American music it has been of material encouragement to the production

of large works. In the first place, those who do not win have been

stimulated to action, and have at least their effort for their pains.

In the second place, those who manage to win are several hundred

dollars the richer, and may offer the wolf at the door a more

effective bribe than empty-stomached song.

In the city of Philadelphia lives a composer of unusual luck in

prize-winning. That large and ancient town is not noteworthy for its

activity in the manufacture of original music. In fact, some one has

spoken of it as "a town where the greatest reproach to a musician is

residence there." The city's one prominent music-writer is William

Wallace Gilchrist; but he stands among the first of our composers. He

is especially interesting as a purely native product, having never

studied abroad, and yet having won among our composers a foremost

place in the larger forms of composition. He was born in Jersey City,

January 8, 1846; his father was a Canadian, his mother a native of

this country; both were skilled in music, and his home life was full

of it, especially of the old church music. After a youth of the usual

school life he tried various pursuits,--photography, law, business;

but music kept calling him. A good barytone voice led him to join

vocal societies, and at length he made music his profession, after

studying voice, organ, and composition with Dr. H.A. Clarke, of

Philadelphia. He was a successful soloist in oratorio for some years,

but gradually devoted himself to church work and conducting, and to

composition, though none of his music was published till he was

thirty-two, when he took two prizes offered by the Abt Male Singing

Society of Philadelphia.

Shortly after taking the Abt Society prize, he won three offered by

the Mendelssohn Glee Club of New York, and in 1884 he took the $1,000

prize offered by the Cincinnati Festival Association.

This last was gained by his setting of the Forty-sixth Psalm for

soprano solo, chorus, and orchestra. The overture opens with a noble

andante contemplatif, which deserves its epithet, but falls after a

time into rather uninteresting moods, whence it breaks only at the

last period. The opening chorus, "God Is Our Refuge and Strength,"

seems to me to be built on a rather trite and empty subject, which it

plays battledore and shuttlecock with in the brave old pompous and

canonic style, which stands for little beyond science and labor. It is

only fair to say, however, that A.J. Goodrich, in his "Musical

Analysis," praises "the strength and dignity" of this chorus; and

gives a minute analysis of the whole work with liberal thematic

quotation. The psalm, as a whole, though built on old lines, is built

well on those lines, and the solo "God Is in the Midst of Her" is

taken up with especially fine effect by the chorus. "The Heathen

Raged" is a most ingeniously complicated chorus also.

The cantata, "Prayer and Praise," is similarly conventional, and

suffers from the sin of repetition, but contains much that is strong.

Of the three prize male choruses written for the Mendelssohn Glee

Club, the "Ode to the Sun" is the least successful. It is written to

the bombast of Mrs. Hemans, and is fittingly hysterical; occasionally

it fairly shrieks itself out. "In Autumn" is quieter; a sombre work

with a fine outburst at the end. "The Journey of Life" is an andante

misterioso that catches the gloom of Bryant's verse, and offers a good

play for that art of interweaving voices in which Gilchrist is an

adept.

"The Uplifted Gates" is a chorus for mixed voices with solos for

sopranos and altos; it is elaborate, warm, and brilliant. In lighter

tone are the "Spring Song," a trio with cheap words, but bright music

and a rich ending, and "The Sea Fairies," a chorus of delightful

delicacy for women's voices. It has a piano accompaniment for four

hands. In this same difficult medium of women's voices is "The

Fountain," a surpassingly beautiful work, graceful and silvery as a

cascade. It reminds one, not by its manner at all, but by its success,

of that supreme achievement, Wagner's song of the "Rhinemaidens."

The piano accompaniment to Gilchrist's chorus aids the general

picture.

A thoroughly charming work is the setting of Lowell's poem, "The

Rose," for solos and chorus. The dreariness of the lonely poet and the

lonely maid contrasts strongly with the rapture of their meeting. As

the first half of the poem is morose yet melodious, the latter is

bright with ecstasy; the ending is of the deepest tenderness.

By all odds the best of these choruses, however, is "The Legend of the

Bended Bow," a fine war-chant by Mrs. Hemans. Tradition tells that in

ancient Britain the people were summoned to war by messengers who

carried a bended bow; the poem tells of the various patriots

approached. The reaper is bidden to leave his standing corn, the

huntsman to turn from the chase; the chieftain, the prince, mothers,

sisters, sweethearts, and the bards are all approached and counselled

to bravery. After each episode follow the words "And the bow passed

on," but the music has been so well managed that the danger of such a

repetition is turned into grim force. The only prelude is five great

blasts of the horns. A brawny vigor is got by a frequent use of

imitation and unison in the voices. The choric work is marked

throughout with the most intense and epic power, almost savagery; a

magnificent martial zest. The climax is big. It is certainly one of

the best things of its kind ever done over here.

Another work of fine quality throughout is "A Christmas Idyl," for

solos, chorus, and orchestra. A terrible sombreness is achieved in its

former half by a notable simplicity. The latter part is in brighter

tone; the solo, "And Thou, Bethlehem," is especially exultant. In

manuscript is "An Easter Idyl," of large proportions, for solos,

chorus, and orchestra, or organ.

In the single songs the influence of Gilchrist's early training in

hymns is patent. In only a few instances do they follow the latter-day

methods of Schumann and Franz. "A Song of Doubt and a Song of Faith"

is possibly his best vocal solo. It begins with a plaint, that is full

of cynic despair; thence it breaks suddenly into a cheerful andante.

"The Two Villages" is a strong piece of work on the conventional

lines of what might be called the Sunday ballad. "A Dirge for Summer"

has a marked originality, and is of that deep brooding which is

particularly congenial to Gilchrist's muse. The Scotch songs are

charming: "My Heart is Sair" is full of fine feeling, and must be

classed among the very best of the many settings of this lyric of

Burns'.

Most modern in feeling of all Gilchrist's vocal solos is the group of

"Eight Songs." They interpret the text faithfully and the

accompaniment is in accord with the song, but yet possessed of its own

individuality. "A Love Song" is tender and has a well-woven

accompaniment; "The Voice of the Sea" is effective, but hardly attains

the large simplicity of Aldrich' poem; "Autumn" is exquisitely cheery;

"Goldenrod" is ornately graceful, while "The Dear Long Ago" is quaint;

"Lullaby" is of an exquisitely novel rhythm in this overworked form.

[Music: A LOVE SONG.

By Barry Cornwall.

Music by W.W. Gilchrist.

Love me if I live,

Love me if I die.

What to me is life or death,

So that thou, that thou be near.

What to me is life or death,

So that thou be near,

So that thou be near.

Copyright, 1885, by Arthur P. Schmidt & Co.

A FRAGMENT.]

There is much contrast between the lightness of his book, "Songs for

the Children," and his ponderous setting of Kipling's "Recessional."

The treatment of Paul Laurence Dunbar's "Southern Lullaby" is unusual,

and the songs, "My Ladye" and "The Ideal," both in MS., are

noteworthy.

Gilchrist has written a vast amount of religious music, including

several "Te Deums," of which the one in C and that in A flat are the

best, to my thinking. He has written little for the piano except a

series of duets, of which the charming "Melodie" and the fetching

"Styrienne" are the best.

It is by his orchestral works, however, that he gains the highest

consideration. These include a symphony for full orchestra, which has

been frequently performed with success; a suite for orchestra; a suite

for piano and orchestra; as well as a nonet, a quintet, and a trio,

for strings and wind. None of these have been published, but I have

had the privilege of examining some of the manuscripts.

The spirit and the treatment of these works is strongly classical.

While the orchestration is scholarly and mellow, it is not in the

least Wagnerian, either in manipulation or in lusciousness. The

symphony is not at all programmatic. The Scherzo is of most exuberant

gaiety. Its accentuation is much like that in Beethoven's piano

sonata (op. 14, No. 2). Imitation is liberally used in the scoring,

with a delightfully comic effect as of an altercation. The symphony

ends with a dashing finale that is stormy with cheer. Gilchrist is at

work upon a second symphony of more modernity.

The "Nonet" is in G minor, and begins with an Allegro in which a most

original and severe subject is developed with infinite grace and

an unusually rich color. The Andante is religioso, and is fervent

rather than sombre. The ending is especially beautiful. A sprightly

Scherzo follows. It is most ingeniously contrived, and the effects are

divided with unusual impartiality among the instruments. A curious and

elaborate allegro molto furnishes the finale, and ends the "Nonet"

surprisingly with an abrupt major chord.

The opening Allegro of the "Quintet" begins with a 'cello solo of

scherzesque quality, but as the other voices join in, it takes on a

more passionate tone, whence it works into rapturously beautiful moods

and ends magnificently. The piano part has a strong value, and even

where it merely ornaments the theme carried by the strings, it is

fascinating. The Scherzo is again of the Beethoven order in its

contagious comicality. The piano has the lion's share of it at first,

but toward the last the other instruments leave off embroidery and

take to cracking jokes for themselves. The Andante is a genuinely fine

piece of work. It ranges from melting tenderness to impassioned rage

and a purified nobility. The piano part is highly elaborated, but the

other instruments have a scholarly, a vocal, individuality. I was

shocked to see a cadenza for the piano just before the close, but its

tender brilliance was in thorough accord with the sincerity of the

movement. The "Quintet" ends with a splendid Allegro.

In MS. are three interesting works for the violin, a Rhapsody, a

Perpetual Motion, and a Fantasie.

This last has a piano accompaniment of much ingenuity. The fantasial

nature of the work lies principally in its development, which is

remarkably lyrical, various melodies being built up beautifully on

fractions of the main subjects. There is nothing perfunctory, and the

work is full of art and appeal. Gilchrist is one of our most polished

composers contrapuntally, but has been here in a very lyric mood.

He is the founder and conductor of the Mendelssohn Club of

Philadelphia, an unusually effective organization; one of the founders

of the local Manuscript Club; the conductor of a choral society of two

hundred voices, at Harrisburg, and the director of two church choirs.

_G.W. Chadwick._

[Illustration: Autograph of G.W. Chadwick]

[Illustration: GEORGE WHITEFIELD CHADWICK.]

One of the most sophisticated, and, at the same time, most eclectic of

native music-makers, is George W. Chadwick, to whom the general

consent of authorities would grant a place among the very foremost of

the foremost American composers.

His reputation rests chiefly on his two symphonies, a number of

concert overtures, and many pieces of chamber-music, which are much

praised. Chadwick was born at Lowell, Mass., November 13, 1854. His

parents were American, and it was not till 1877, after studying with

Eugene Thayer in Boston, and teaching music in the college at Olivet,

Mich., that Chadwick studied for two years at Leipzig, under Jadassohn

and Reinecke, and later at Munich for a year under Rheinberger. In

1880 he returned to America and settled in Boston, where he has since

lived, as organist, teacher, and conductor, an important figure in

the town's musical life.

Among his few works for the piano, are "Six Characteristic Pieces"

(op. 7). The "Reminiscence of Chopin" is an interesting and skilful

chain of partial themes and suggestions from Chopin. The "Etude" is a

monotonous study in a somewhat Schumannesque manner, with a graceful

finish. The "Congratulation" is a cheerful bagatelle; the "Irish

Melody" is sturdy, simple, and fetching; but the "Scherzino" is a hard

bit of humor with Beethoven mannerisms lacking all the master's

unction.

The opus ends with an unfortunate composition inexcusably titled

"Please Do!"

There are two bright "Caprices" and three excellent waltzes, of which

the third is the best. It is a dreamy, tender work on a theme by

"B.J.L.," which refers, I presume, to Mr. B.J. Lang.

Chadwick has done a vast amount of part-song writing. His "Lovely

Rosabelle" is for chorus and orchestra, and is marked with many

original effects. His "Reiterlied" is superbly joyful. A setting of

Lewis Carroll's immortal "Jabberwocky" shows much rich humor of the

college glee-club sort. There is an irresistibly humorous episode

where the instrument of destruction goes "snicker snack," and a fine

hilarity at

"'O frabjous day

Callooh, callay,'

He chortled in his joy."

What would part-song writers do if the Vikings had never been

invented? Where would they get their wild choruses for men, with a

prize to the singer that makes the most noise? Chadwick falls into

line with "The Viking's Last Voyage" (1881), for barytone solo, male

chorus, and orchestra, which gives him a very high place among writers

in this form. He has also a robustious "Song of the Viking," and an

excellent Dedication Ode (1884), for solo, chorus, and orchestra, to

the pregnant words of Rev. H.B. Carpenter, besides two cantatas for

mixed voices, "Phoenix Expirans" and "The Pilgrims." In 1889 was

published his "Lovely Rosabelle," a ballad for chorus and orchestra;

it contains some interesting dissonantial work in the storm-passages.

And his comic opera, "Tabasco," must be mentioned, as well as an

enormous mass of sacred music, which, I confess, I had not the

patience to study. The flesh was willing, but the spirit was weak.

Among Chadwick's songs is a volume of Breton melodies harmonized with

extreme simplicity. Others are "Gay Little Dandelion," which is good

enough of its everlasting flower-song sort; "In Bygone Days" and

"Request," which, aside from one or two flecks of art, are trashy; and

two childish namby-pambies, "Adelaide" and "The Mill." "A Bonny Curl"

catches the Scotch-ton faithfully.

Chadwick usually succeeds, however, in catching foreign flavors. His

"Song from the Persian" is one of his best works, and possibly the

very best is his "Sorais' Song," to Rider Haggard's splendid words.

It has an epic power and a wild despair. Up to the flippancy of its

last measures, it is quite inspired, and one of the strongest of

American songs. The "Danza" is captivating and full of novelty. "Green

Grows the Willow" is a burden of charming pathos and quaintness,

though principally a study in theme-management. "Allah," however, is

rather Ethiopian than Mahommedan. His "Bedouin Love Song" has little

Oriental color, but is full of rush and fire, with a superb ending. It

is the best of the countless settings of this song. I wish I could say

the same of his "Thou Art so Like a Flower," but he has missed the

intense repression of Heine.

[Music: _To Mrs. G.H. Stoddard._

TWO FOLK SONGS.

I

G.W. Chadwick

O love and joy are for a day,

Then tears and sorrow after,

O love is for a summer's day,

And then farewell to laughter.

If love and joy are for a day

And then farewell to laughter,

To live with love give me one day

Though tears forever after.

Copyright, 1892, by Arthur P. Schmidt.]

The "Serenade" displays an interesting rhythm; "The Miller's Daughter"

is tender, and "A Warning" is delightfully witty. One regrets,

however, that its best points were previously used in Schumann's

perfect folk-song, "Wenn ich frueh in den Garten geh'." Chadwick has

two folk-songs of his own, however, which are superb. "He Loves Me" is

a tender, cradle-song-like bit of delicious color. The "Lullaby" is a

genuinely interesting study in this overworked form. "The Lily" has

the passionate lyricism of Chaminade, and "Sweet Wind that Blows" is a

fine frenzy. The "Nocturne" is dainty and has its one good climax.

"Before the Dawn" has some of Chadwick's best work; it is especially

marked by a daring harmonic--you might say--_impasto_.

His principal works, besides those mentioned, may be catalogued (I am

unable to do more than catalogue most of them, having seen only one of

them, "The Lily Nymph," performed, and having read the score of only

the "Melpomene" overture): Concert overtures, "Rip Van Winkle"

(written in Leipzig, 1879, and played there the same year), "Thalia"

(1883), "Melpomene" (1887), "The Miller's Daughter" (1887), and

"Adonais" (in memory of a friend, 1899); Symphonies, in C (1882), in B

(1885); an Andante for string orchestra (1884), and numerous pieces of

chamber-music. In the case of the cantata, "The Lily Nymph,"

Chadwick's art was quite futilized by the superb inanities of the book

he used. The "Melpomene" is a work of infinitely more specific

gravity. It is one of the most important of American orchestral works.

As his "Thalia" was an "overture to an imaginary comedy," so this, to

an imaginary tragedy. It has been played by the Boston Symphony and

many other orchestras. It has that definiteness of mood with that

indefiniteness of circumstance in which music wins its most dignified

prosperity.

It opens with the solitary voice of the English horn, which

gives a notable pathos (read Berlioz on this despairful

elegist, and remember its haunting wail in the last act of

"Tristan und Isolde"). The woeful plaint of this voice

breathing above a low sinister roll of the tympanum

establishes at once the atmosphere of melancholy. Other

instruments join the wail, which breaks out wildly from the

whole orchestra. Over a waving accompaniment of clarinets,

the other wood-winds strike up a more lyric and hopeful

strain, and a soliloquy from the 'cello ends the slow

introduction, the materials of which are taken from the two

principal subjects of the overture, which is built on the

classic sonata formula. The first subject is announced by the

first violins against the full orchestra; the subsidiary

theme is given to the flutes and oboes; after a powerful

climax, and a beautiful subsidence of the storm in the lower

strings, the second subject appears in the relative major

with honeyed lyricism. The conclusion, which is made rather

elaborate by the latter-day symphonists, is reduced to a

brief modulation by Mr. Chadwick, and almost before one knows

it, he is in the midst of the elaboration. It is hard to say

whether the composer's emotion or his counterpoint is given

freer rein here, for the work is remarkable both for the

display of every technical resource and for the irresistible

tempest of its passion. In the reprise there is a climax that

thrills one even as he tamely reads the score, and must be

overpowering in actual performance: the cheerful consolation

of the second subject provokes a cyclonic outburst of grief;

there is a furious climax of thrilling flutes and violins

over a mad blare of brass, the while the cymbals shiver

beneath the blows of the kettledrum-sticks. An abrupt silence

prepares for a fierce thunderous clamor from the tympani and

the great drum (beaten with the sticks of the side-drum).

This subsides to a single thud of a kettledrum; there is

another eloquent silence; the English horn returns to its

first plaint; but grief has died of very exercise, and the

work ends in a coda that establishes a major harmony and

leaves the hearer with a heart purged white and clean.

The "Melpomene" overture is a work of such inspiration and such

scholarship that it must surely find a long youth in the chronicle of

our music.

_Arthur Foote._

[Illustration: ARTHUR FOOTE.]

[Illustration: Autograph of Arthur Foote]

The nearest approach Americans make to the enthusiastic German

_Maennerchor_ is in the college glee clubs. The dignity of their

selections is not always up to that of the Teutonic chorus, but they

develop a salutary fondness for color and shading, exaggerating both a

little perhaps, yet aiming at the right warmth and variety withal.

Even those elaborate paraphrases and circumlocutions of Mother Goose

rhymes, to which they are so prone, show a striving after dramatic

effect and richness of harmony, as well as a keen sense of wit and

humor that are by no means incompatible with real value in music.

Among their other good deeds must be counted the fostering of the

musical ambitions of Arthur Foote, who was for two years the leader of

the Glee Club of Harvard University. Though he has by no means been

content to delve no deeper into music than glee-club depths, I think

the training has been of value, and its peculiar character is patent

in his works. He is especially fond of writing for men's voices, and

is remarkably at home in their management, and he strives rather for

color-masses than for separate individualities in the voices.

Among his larger works for men's voices is an elaborate setting of

Longfellow's poem, "The Skeleton in Armor," which is full of vigor and

generally sturdy in treatment, especially in its descriptions of

Viking war and seafaring. The storm-scenes, as in Mr. Foote's "Wreck

of the Hesperus," seem faintly to suggest Wagnerian _Donner und

Blitzen_, but in general Mr. Foote has resisted the universal tendency

to copy the mannerisms so many take to be the real essence of the

Bayreuthian. A pretty bit of fancy is the use of a spinning-wheel

accompaniment to the love-song, although the spindle is nowhere

suggested by the poem. Indeed, the spinning is treated as a

characteristic motif for the Norseman's bride, somewhat as it is

Senta's motif in "The Flying Dutchman."

The chief fault with the "Skeleton" chorus is that it is always

choric. There are no solos, and the different registers are never used

separately for more than a bar or two, before the whole mass chimes

in. Even the instrumental interludes are short, and the general effect

must be rather undiversified, one of sympathy, too, for the unrested

chorus.

"The Wreck of the Hesperus" is an ambitious work, built on large

lines, but hardly represents Mr. Foote at his best. It is for mixed

voices, and is pitched in a most lugubrious key, being always either

vociferous with panic or dismal with minor woe. A worse trouble yet is

the attempt to make a short poem fit a long composition. The

Procrustean operation strains even Longfellow sadly.

This blemish is lacking in "The Farewell of Hiawatha," which is

written for men's voices. Though it, too, is of a sad tone, its sombre

hues are rich and varied as a tapestry. Its effects, though potent,

seem more sincere and less labored. It is altogether noble.

A larger body of sacred music for mixed voices than many other

Americans can boast, also swells Foote's opus-score. Here he shows the

same facility with the quartette as in his other works. In fact, I

think the effect of glee-club training on his young mind has strongly

influenced his whole life-work. And, by the way, the most talented of

all the great Sebastian Bach's twenty-one children--every one a

musical opus, too--was diverted from the philosopher's career for

which he was intended, and into professional musicianship, by just

such a glee-club training in the universities at Leipzig and

Frankfort.

Almost all of Foote's compositions are written in the close harmony

and limited range of vocal music, and he very rarely sweeps the

keyboard in his piano compositions, or hunts out startling novelties

in strictly pianistic effect. He is not fond of the cloudy regions of

the upper notes, and though he may dart brilliantly skyward now and

then just to show that his wings are good for lighter air, he is soon

back again, drifting along the middle ether.

He has won his high place by faithful adherence to his own sober,

serene ideals, and by his genuine culture and seriousness. He is

thoroughly American by birth and training, though his direct English

descent accounts for his decided leaning toward the better impulses of

the English school of music. He was born at Salem, Mass., March 5,

1853, and though he played the piano a good deal as a boy, and made a

beginning in the study of composition with Emery, he did not study

seriously until he graduated from Harvard in 1874. He then took up the

higher branches of composition under the tuition of John Knowles

Paine, and obtained in 1875 the degree of A.M. in the special

department of music. He also studied the organ and the piano with B.J.

Lang at Boston, and has since made that city his home, teaching and

playing the organ.

His overture, "In the Mountains," has been much played from the

manuscript by orchestras, among them the Boston Symphony. Besides a

considerable amount of highly valuable contributions to American

chamber-music, and two fine piano suites, he has written a great many

piano pieces and songs which deserve even greater popularity than they

have won, because, while not bristling with technical difficulties,

they are yet of permanent worth.

I know of no modern composer who has come nearer to relighting the

fires that beam in the old gavottes and fugues and preludes. His two

gavottes are to me among the best since Bach. They are an example of

what it is to be academic without being only a-rattle with dry bones.

He has written a Nocturne that gets farther from being a mere

imitation of Chopin than almost any night-piece written since the Pole

appropriated that form bodily from John Field and made it his own.

One of his most original pieces is the Capriccio of his D minor Suite,

which is also unusually brilliant in color at times; and he has an

Allegretto that is a scherzo of the good old whole-souled humor.

Foote, in fact, is never sickly in sentiment.

Of his rather numerous songs, the older English poets, like Marlowe,

Sidney, Shakespeare, Suckling, and Herrick, have given him much

inspiration. The song "It Was a Lover and his Lass" is especially

taking. His three songs, "When You Become a Nun, Dear," "The Road to

Kew," and "Ho, Pretty Page!" written by modern poets in a half-archaic

way, display a most delicious fund of subtile and ironic musical

humor. "The Hawthorn Wins the Damask Rose" shows how really fine a

well conducted English ballad can be. Among his sadder songs, the

"Irish Folksong," "I'm Wearing Awa'," and the weird "In a Bower" are

heavy with deepest pathos, while "Sweet Is True Love" is as wildly

intense and as haunting in its woe as the fate of the poor Elaine,

whose despair it sings. This I count one of the most appealing of

modern songs.

[Music: IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS

ARTHUR FOOTE, Op. 10, No. 1.

1. It was a lover and his lass,

With a hey and a ho,

With a hey and a ho, and a hey, and a hey non-i-no!

That o'er the green cornfield did pass,

In the springtime, the springtime,

The only pretty ring-time,

When birds do sing hey ding a ding!

Sweet lovers love the spring.

2. And therefore take the present time,

With a hey and a ho,

With a hey and a ho, and a hey, and a hey non-i-no!

For love is crowned with the prime,

In the springtime, the springtime,

The only pretty ring-time,

When birds do sing hey ding a ding!

Sweet lovers love the Spring. (_Shakespeare._)

Copyright, 1886, by Arthur P. Schmidt & Co.]

His greatest work is undoubtedly his symphonic prologue to Dante's

story of "Francesca da Rimini," for full orchestra. Without being

informed upon the subject, I fancy a certain programmism in the

prologue that is not indicated in the quotation at the beginning of

the work:

"Nessun maggior dolore,

Che ricordarsi del tempo felice

Nella miseria."

The prologue, however, seems to me to contain more than the

psychological content of these lines from the fifth canto of the

"Inferno."

The slow introduction in C minor begins with a long, deep

sigh, followed by a downward passage in the violas and

'cellos that seems to indicate the steps that bring Dante and

Vergil down to the edge of the precipice past which the

cyclone of the damned rolls eternally. There is some

shrieking and shuddering, and ominous thudding of the

tympani (which are tuned to unusual notes), then follows a

short recitative which might represent Dante's query to

Francesca how she came to yield to love. Suddenly out of the

swirling strings the first subject is caught up; it is a

frenzy passionately sung by the first violins, reenforced by

the flutes at the crises. The second subject appears after a

sudden prelude by the brass; it is a very lyric waltz-tune in

the relative major, and doubtless depicts the joy recalled in

sorrow. The conclusion is quite lengthy; it is also in waltz

form, and is first announced by a single flute over the

violins and violas, the first violins keeping to the gloomy

G string. This air is now given to a solo horn, and a fierce

and irresistible dance fervor is worked up. The elaboration

begins with the first subject in F sharp minor, caught up

fiercely from a downward rush. The reprise is not long

delayed, and the second subject appears, contrary to custom,

in the tonic major instead of the tonic minor. The coda is

deliciously tender and beautiful, possibly because, being a

prologue, the work must prepare for a drama that begins

cheerfully; possibly because after all there is comfort in

bliss remembered in sorrow.

Tschaikowski has written a symphonic poem on the same subject, which

has been also the inspiration of numberless dramas, and is one of the

most pathetic pages in all literature; even the stern old Dante says

that when he heard Francesca tell her story he almost died of pity,

and fell to the ground as one dead.

A Serenade for string orchestra (op. 25) contains a Prelude, a tender

Air, a luscious Intermezzo in the rich key of B major with soli for

violin and 'cello, a Romance with a good climax, and a gallant Gavotte

with special attention to the too much slighted violas.

Opus 36 is a suite for full orchestra. It has been played by the

Boston Symphony, and consists of a brilliant Allegro; an Adagio of

deep sincerity and beautifully varied color, a period wherein the

brass choir, heavily scored, chants alone, and the division of the

theme among the wood-wind over the rushing strings is especially

effective; a very whimsical Andante with frequent changes of tempo,

and soli for the English horn in antiphony with the first oboe; and a

madcap Presto that whisks itself out in the first violins.

Two other published works are a string quartette (op. 4) and a

quintette for piano and strings (op. 36). This begins in A minor with

a well woven and well derived set of themes, and ends in a scherzo in

A major with spinning-song characteristics. Between these two

movements comes an intermezzo of strongly marked Scotch tone. This has

been performed by the Kneisel Quartette.

_S.G. Pratt._

Almost every musician has heard of Christopher Columbus, and holds

him in a certain esteem as a man without whose push the invention of

America would have been long deferred; but few American musicians have

felt under a sufficient debt of gratitude to make his troubles and

triumphs the foundation of an appropriate musical work. Silas G. Pratt

was bold enough to undertake the monumental task; and he expended upon

it large resources of scholarship, research, and enthusiasm. The work

was performed at New York during the Quadricentennial of the discovery

of America.

If Pratt had been born in old Egypt, he would have found his chief

diversion in the building of pyramids, so undismayed is he by the size

of a task. His patriotism is a sharp spur to him, and has enabled him

to write an orchestral composition devoted to Paul Revere's Ride; a

fantasy descriptive of a battle between the Northern and Southern

armies; "The Battle of Manila;" "The Anniversary Overture," in

commemoration of the centennial of American Independence, performed in

Berlin twice, and in London at the Crystal Palace, during Grant's

visit there; and a march called by the curious name of "Homage to

Chicago." Besides these works Pratt has written the "Magdalen's

Lament," his first orchestral composition, suggested by Murillo's

picture; the lyric opera, "Antonio;" a first symphony, of which the

adagio was performed in Berlin, the other movements being produced in

Boston and Chicago; a second symphony, "The Prodigal Son;" a romantic

opera, "Zenobia," produced in Chicago; a lyric opera, "Lucille," which

ran for three weeks in Chicago; a symphonic suite based on the

"Tempest;" a canon for a string quartette; a serenade for string

orchestra; a grotesque suite, "The Brownies," produced in New York

and at Brighton Beach by Anton Seidl. Besides these works of musical

composition, Pratt has delivered various musical lectures, ingeniously

contrived to entertain the great public and at the same time inform

it. He has been active also in the organization of various musical

enterprises, among them the Apollo Club of Chicago.

Pratt was born in Addison, Vermont, August 4, 1846. At the age of

twelve, he was thrown on his own resources, and connected himself with

music publishing houses in Chicago. After various public performances,

he went to Germany in 1868, to study the piano under Bendel and

Kullak, and counterpoint under Kiel. In 1872 he returned to Chicago

and gave a concert of his own works. But the phoenix city had not

entirely preened its wings after the great fire of 1871, and Pratt

found no support for his ambitions. After teaching and giving

concerts, he returned to Germany in 1875, where he attended the

rehearsals of Wagner's Trilogy at Bayreuth, met Liszt here, and gave a

recital of his own compositions at Weimar. His "Anniversary Overture"

was cordially received by the press of both Berlin and London. A third

visit to Europe was made in 1885 for the production of the "Prodigal

Son" at the Crystal Palace, on the occasion of which, Berthold Tours

wrote that both the symphony and the "Anniversary Overture" were

"grandly conceived works, full of striking originality, modern

harmony, flowing melody, and beautiful, as well as imposing effects."

Activity along such lines has left Pratt little time for the smaller

forms of composition; a few have been published, among them the song,

"Dream Vision," in which Schumann's "Traeumerei" is used for violin

obbligato; and a few piano pieces, such as "Six Soliloquies," with

poetic text. In these each chord shows careful effort at color, and

the work is chromatic enough to convince one that he has studied his

Bach thoroughly.

Among his massive compositions there are two that seem likely to win,

as they surely deserve, a long life. These are the symphonic suite,

"The Tempest," and the "Prodigal Son." To the latter splendid

achievement, A.J. Goodrich devotes several pages of his "Musical

Analysis," to which I can do no better than to refer the reader. The

"Tempest" is based, of course, on Shakespeare's play, and is described

as follows by the composer:

"It is intended, in the first movement, Adagio, to typify the

sorrow of Prospero, and his soul's protest against the

ingratitude and persecution of his enemies. His willing

attendant Ariel is briefly indicated in the closing measures.

The Pastoral furnishes an atmosphere or stage setting for the

lovers, Miranda and Ferdinand, whose responsive love-song

follows the droning of a shepherd's pipe in the distance.

Prospero's interruption to their passionate assurances of

devotion, and the imposition of the unpleasant task, are

briefly touched upon, and the movement closes with a repeat

of the pastoral, and alternate reiteration of the lover's

song. The Finale, after a short introduction, in most sombre

vein, indicates the flitting about of Ariel and his companion

sprites as they gather for revelry. The presence of the

master is soon made apparent by the recurrence, in a

subdued manner, of Prospero's first theme from the Adagio,

the fantastic tripping of the elves continuing, as though the

controlling spirit were conjuring up the fete for the

amusement of the lovers and himself.

"'Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves;

And ye that on the sand, with printless foot

Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him

When he comes back.'

"The dance then begins, and continues in a fantastic, at

times grotesque and furious manner, the theme of the lovers

being interwoven at times, in an unobtrusive way. At length,

Caliban is heard approaching, singing his drunken song.

"''Ban, 'Ban, Ca-caliban

Has a new master: get a new man.'

"Ariel and his companions flit about, ridiculing, mocking,

and laughing at him; eventually prodding and pinching him

until, shivering, with aching joints, he staggers away. The

revelry then continues, the song of the lovers becoming more

and more prominent until, somewhat broadened out, it asserts

itself triumphantly above all, Ariel and his companions

flitting about, Prospero happy, and Caliban subjugated, all

the chief themes being united to form the climax and close of

the work."

Although Pratt intentionally omitted the English horn and the bass

clarinet, the scoring is remarkable for its color and faery. The work

is highly lyrical in effect, and the woodsiness is beautifully

established. The solemnity of Prospero, the adroitness of the lovers

and the contrasting natures of the volatile Ariel and the sprawling

Caliban, make up a cast of characters in the development of which

music is peculiarly competent. The stertorous monologue of Caliban and

his hobbling dance, and the taunting and pinching torment he is

submitted to, make excellent humor.

_Henry K. Hadley._

[Illustration: HENRY K. HADLEY.]

The word symphony has a terrifying sound, particularly when it is

applied to a modern work; for latter-day music is essentially romantic

in nature, and it is only a very rare composer that has the

inclination or the ability to force the classic form to meet his new

ideas. The result is that such a work usually lacks spontaneity,

conviction. The modern writer does much better with the symphonic

poem.

The number of American symphonies worth listening to, could be counted

on the fingers with several digits to spare. A new finger has been

preempted by Henry K. Hadley's symphony called "Youth and Life." The

title is doubly happy. Psychologically it is a study of the intense

emotional life of youth, written by an American youth,--a young man

who, by the way, strangely reminds one, in his appearance, of

Macmonnies' American type, as represented by his ideal statue of

Nathan Hale.

And musically the work is imbued with both youth and life. It has

blood and heart in it. The first movement is a conflict between good

and evil motives struggling like the mediaeval angels for the soul of

the hero. The better power wins triumphantly. The second movement,

however, shows doubt and despair, remorse and deep spiritual

depression. The climax of this feeling is a death-knell, which,

smitten softly, gives an indescribably dismal effect, and thrills

without starting. Angelus bells in pedal-point continue through a

period of hope and prayer; but remorse again takes sway. The ability

to obtain this fine solemnity, and follow it with a scherzo of

extraordinary gaiety, proves that a genius is at large among us. The

Scherzo displays a thigh-slapping, song-singing _abandon_ that

typifies youthful frivolity fascinatingly. A fugue is used

incidentally with a burlesque effect that reminds one of Berlioz'

"Amen" parody in the "Damnation of Faust." The Finale exploits motives

of ambition and heroism, with a moment of love. The climax is

vigorous. Without being at all ariose, the symphony is full of melody.

Its melodies are not counterpoint, but expression; and each instrument

or choir of instruments is an individuality.

Hadley is galvanic with energy and optimism, dextrous to a remarkable

degree in the mechanism of composition. His scoring is mature,

fervent, and certain. His symphony is legitimately programmatic and

alive with brains, biceps, and blood,--all three,--the three great B's

of composition.

Hadley was born at Somerville, Mass., in 1871. His father was a

teacher of music and gave him immediate advantages. He studied harmony

with Stephen A. Emery, counterpoint with G.W. Chadwick, and the

violin with Henry Heindl and Charles N. Allen of Boston. Before

attaining his majority, he had completed a dramatic overture, a string

quartette, a trio, and many songs and choruses. In 1894 he went to

Vienna and studied composition with Mandyczewski. Here he composed his

third suite for the orchestra. In 1896 he returned to America and took

charge of the music department of St. Paul's school at Garden City,

L.I. He has had some experience as a conductor and has been very

prolific in composition. His first symphony was produced under the

direction of Anton Seidl, in December, 1897; and at a concert of his

own compositions, again, in January, 1900, Hadley conducted this

symphony, and also two movements from his second symphony, "The

Seasons." These two movements show a mellower technic, perhaps, but

are less vital. He has written three ballet suites with pronounced

success, the work being musical and yet full of the ecstasy of the

dance. His third ballet suite, which is the best, was produced at a

concert of the American Symphony Orchestra, under Sam Franko.

The existence of a festival march, a concert overture, "Hector and

Andromache," two comic operas, and six songs for chorus and orchestra,

besides a number of part songs and piano pieces, and over one hundred

songs, forty of which are published, gives proof of the restless

energy of the man. The high average of scholarship is a proof of his

right to serious acceptance.

A cantata for orchestra, "Lelewala," a legend of Niagara, is published

for piano accompaniment. Now, Niagara is a dangerous subject for the

frail skiffs of rhyme, prose, or music to launch out upon. Barrel

staves may carry one through the whirlpool, but music staves cannot

stand the stress. Of all the comments upon the Falls of Niagara that I

have ever read, or heard of, there has been only one that seemed

anything but ridiculously inappropriate; that one was the tribute of a

young boy who, on standing face to face with the falls, simply

exclaimed, in an awe-smothered whisper, "Well, by gosh!" But it must

be admitted that these words would baffle the music-making

propensities even of the composer of Haendel's "Hallelujah Chorus."

That learned composer, George F. Bristow, now dead, made the mistake

of attempting to compass Niagara in a work for chorus and orchestra.

Hadley is not exactly guilty of the same fatal attempt in his

"Lelewala," for the poem is chiefly a story of love and sacrifice; but

Niagara comes in as a programmatic incident, and the author of the

text has fallen lamentably short of his subject in certain instances.

In other moments, he has written with genuine charm, and the music has

much that is worth while.

Among his published songs are to be noted the unusually good setting

of Heine's "Wenn ich in deine Augen seh'" and of his less often heard

"Sapphire sind die Augen dein," and "Der Schmetterling ist in die Rose

verliebt." A deservedly popular work is "I Plucked a Quill from

Cupid's Wing." Among so many morose or school-bound composers, Hadley

is especially important for the fact that he is thrilled with a sane

and jubilant music.

_Adolph M. Foerster._

[Illustration: ADOLPH M. FOERSTER.]

It has been fortunate for American song that it forsook the narrow,

roystering school of English ballad and took for its national model

the _Lied_ of the later German school. It is true that the earlier

English had its poetry-respecting music in the work of such a man as

Henry Lawes, or Purcell, just as it had its composers who far preceded

Bach in the key-roving idea of the "Well-tempered Clavier;" but that

spirit died out of England, and found its latest avatar in such men

as Robert Franz, who confessed that he had his first and fullest

recognition from this country.

A correspondence with Franz was carried on for eighteen years by one

of the solidest of American composers, Adolph M. Foerster, who gives

distinction to the musical life of Pittsburg. He knew Franz

personally, and has written an important appreciation of him for the

magazine _Music_. Foerster was born at Pittsburg in 1854. After three

years of commercial life, he took up music seriously, and spent the

years from 1872 to 1875 at Leipzig,--studying the piano under Coccius

and Wenzel, singing under Grill and Schimon, and theory under E.F.

Richter and Papperitz. Returning to America, he connected himself with

the Fort Wayne (Ind.) Conservatory of Music, then under the direction

of the beneficent inventor of the Virgil Clavier. A year later he

returned to Pittsburg, where he has since remained. For awhile he was

conductor of a symphonic society and a choral union, which are no

longer extant. Since, he has devoted himself to teaching and

composition.

Of Foerster's piano compositions opus 11 is a "Valse Brillante," warm

and melodious. Opus 13 is a "Sonnet," based, after the plan of Liszt,

upon a lyric of Petrarch's, a beautiful translation from his "Gli

occhi di ch'io parlai si caldamente." It is full of passion, and shows

a fine variety in the handling of persistent repetition. Opus 18

couples two sonatinas. The second has the more merit, but both, like

most sonatinas, are too trivial of psychology and too formal even to

be recommended for children's exercises. "Eros" is a fluent melody,

with a scherzesque second part.

Opus 37 contains two concert etudes, both superb works. The first,

"Exaltation," is very original, though neither the beginning nor the

ending is particularly striking. The music between, however, has a

fervor that justifies the title. This etude is, like those of Chopin,

at the same time a technical study and a mood. The second, a

"Lamentation," begins with a most sonorous downward harmony, with

rushes up from the bass like the lessening onsets of a retreating

tide. Throughout, the harmonies and emotions are remarkably profound

and the climaxes wild. I should call it one of the best modern piano

compositions.

Twelve "Fantasy Pieces" are included in opus 38. They are short

tone-poems. The second, "Sylvan Spirits," is fascinating, and "Pretty

Marie" has an irresistibly gay melody. He has dedicated the six songs

of opus 6 to Robert Franz. These are written in a close unarpeggiated

style chiefly, but they are very interesting in their pregnant

simplicity. In two cases they are even impressive: the well-known

lyric, "Im Rhein, im heiligen Strome," and "Meeresstille." Opus 12 is

a notable group of three songs: "Mists" is superbly harmonious. Opus

25 includes "Ask Thou Not the Heather Gray," a rhapsody of the utmost

ingenuity in melody and accompaniment. It has a catching blissfulness

and a verve that make it one of the best American songs. Opus 28 is a

book called "Among Flowers." The music is in every case good, and

especially satisfactory in its emancipation from the Teutonism of

Foerster's earlier songs. The song "Among the Roses" has a beautiful

poem, which deserves the superb music. It ends hauntingly with an

unresolved major ninth chord on the dominant of the dominant. So the

frenzy of "In Blossom Time" is emotion of a human, rather than a

botanical sort. "The Cradle Song" adapts the Siegfried Idyl, and the

"Old Proverb" is rollicking. The two songs of opus 34 are fitted with

words by Byron. The three songs of opus 44 also make use of this poet,

now so little in vogue with composers. There are three songs in opus

42: a pathetic "Little Wild Rose," and "By the Seaside," which is full

of solemnity. "The Shepherd's Lament" is one of his best lyrics, with

a strange accompaniment containing an inverted pedal-point in octaves.

There are also several part songs.

In larger forms, Mr. Foerster is even more successful. Opus 10 is a

Character-piece for full orchestra, based on Karl Schaefer's poem,

"Thusnelda." It is short but vigorous, and well unified. Opus 15 is a

Fantasie for violin and piano, the piano having really the better of

it. The treatment is very original, and the strong idea well

preserved. Opus 21 is a Quartette for violin, viola, 'cello, and

piano. The first movement begins solemnly, but breaks into an

appassionato. All four instruments have an equal voice in the parley,

and all the outbursts are emotional rather than contrapuntal. A climax

of tremendous power is attained. The second movement omits the piano

for a beautiful adagio. The third is an hilarious allegro, and the

finale is an even gayer presto, with movements of sudden sobriety,

suddenly swept away. Foerster calls this Quartette "far inferior" to a

second one, opus 40. This, however, I have not seen; but I do not

hesitate to call opus 21 a masterly work.

Opus 24 is an "Albumblatt" for 'cello and piano. It is a wonderwork

of feeling and deep richness of harmony, of absolute sincerity and

inspiration. Opus 29 is a Trio for violin, 'cello, and piano. The

three begin in unison, andante, whence the 'cello breaks away,

followed soon by the others, into the joviality of a drinking bout.

There is a military moment, a lyric of more seriousness, and a finish

agitato. The second movement is a larghetto highly embroidered. The

third movement is a vivace with the spirit of a Beethoven presto.

Opus 36 is a suite for violin and piano, beginning with a most

engaging and most skilful Novelette.

In MS. are: an elaborate ballad, "Hero and Leander," which, in spite

of an unworthy postlude and certain "Tristan und Isolde" memories, is

ardent and vivid with passion; "Verzweifelung," which is bitter and

wild with despair; a suite for piano (op. 46) containing a waltz as

ingenious as it is captivating; and a finale called "Homage to

Brahms." This is a remarkably clever piece of writing, which, while it

lacks the Brahmsian trade-mark of thirds in the bass, has much of that

composer's best manner, less in his tricks of speech than in his

tireless development and his substitution of monumental thematicism

for lyric emotion. In MS. is also a prelude to Goethe's "Faust" for

full orchestra. It has very definite leading motives, which include

"Faust's Meditations," "Visions of Margarethe," "Evil" and "Love"

(almost inversions of each other), "Mephistopheles," and the like. The

strife of these elements is managed with great cleverness, ending

beatifically with the motive of Gretchen dying away in the wood-wind.

An orchestral score that has been published is the Dedication March

for Carnegie Hall in Pittsburg. It begins with a long fanfare of horns

heard behind the scenes. Suddenly enters a jubilant theme beginning

with Andrew Carnegie's initials, a worthy tribute to one to whom

American music owes much.

_Charles Crozat Converse._

[Illustration: CHARLES CROZAT CONVERSE.]

Musicians are not, as a class, prone to a various erudition (a

compliment fully returned by the learned in other directions, who are

almost always profoundly ignorant of the actual art of music). One of

the rule-proving exceptions is Charles Crozat Converse, who has delved

into many philosophies. An example of his versatility of interest is

his coining of the word "thon" (a useful substitute for the ubiquitous

awkwardness of "he or she" and "his or her"), which has been adopted

by the Standard Dictionary.

Converse' ancestry is American as far back as 1630. Converse was born

at Warren, Mass., October 7, 1832. After being well grounded in

English and the classics, he went, in 1855, to Germany. Here he

studied law and philosophy, and music at the Conservatorium in

Leipzig. He enjoyed the instruction of Richter, Hauptmann, Plaidy, and

Haupt, and made the acquaintance of Liszt and Spohr. Spohr was

especially interested in, and influential in, his work, and confident

of its success.

Returning to America, he graduated from the Law Department of Albany

University in 1860, with the degree of LL.B. The B has since been

dignified into a D, as a tribute to his unusual accomplishments.

Converse declined the honor of a Doctorship of Music from the

University of Cambridge, offered him by its professor, the well-known

English composer, Sterndale Bennett, in recognition of his mastery of

lore as evinced in a five-voiced double fugue that ends his

Psalm-Cantata on the 126th Psalm.

This scholarly work was performed under the direction of Theodore

Thomas in 1888, at Chicago.

A widely known contribution to religious music is Converse' hymn,

"What a Friend We Have in Jesus," which has been printed, so they say,

in all the tongues of Christendom, and sold to the extent of fifty

millions of copies. This tune occupied a warm place in my

Sunday-schoolboy heart, along with other singable airs of the Moody

and Sankey type, but as I hum it over in memory now, it tastes

sweetish and thin. Its popularity is appalling, musically at least.

Converse has written many other hymn-tunes, which have taken their

place among ecclesiastical soporifics. Besides, he has recently

compiled a collection of the world's best hymns into the "Standard

Hymnal." In this field Converse, though conventional,--and

conventionality may be considered inevitable here,--is mellow of

harmony and sincere in sentiment.

Numberless attempts are made to supply our uncomfortable lack of a

distinctly national air, but few of them have that first requisite, a

fiery catchiness, and most of them have been so bombastic as to pall

even upon palates that can endure Fourth of July glorification.

Recognizing that the trouble with "America" was not at all due to the

noble words written by the man whom "fate tried to conceal by naming

him Smith," Converse has written a new air to this poem.

Unfortunately, however, his method of varying the much-borrowed

original tune is too transparent. He has not discarded the idea at

all, or changed the rhythm or the spirit. He has only taken his tune

upward where "God Save the Queen" moves down, and bent his melody down

where the British soars up. This, I fancy, is the chief reason why his

national hymn has gone over to the great majority, and has been

conspicuously absent from such public occasions as torchlight parades

and ratifications.

Except the work issued under the alias "Karl Redan," or the anagrams,

"C.O. Nevers" and "C.E. Revons," his only secular musics that have

been put into print are his American Overture, published in Paris, and

a book of six songs, published in Germany.

Music is called the universal language, but it has strongly marked

dialects, and sometimes a national flavor untranslatable to foreign

peoples. So with these six songs, not the words alone are German. They

are based on a Teutonic, and they modulate only from Berlin to

Braunschweig and around to Leipzig. While the songs repay study, they

are rather marked by a pianistic meditation than a strictly lyric

emotion. "Aufmunterung zur Freude" is a tame allegretto; "Wehmuth" is

better; "Taeuschung" is a short elegy of passion and depth; "Ruhe in

der Geliebten" is best in its middle strain where it is full of rich

feeling and harmony. The ending is cheap. "Der gefangene Saenger" is

only a slight variant at first on the "Adieu" credited to Schubert; it

is thereafter excellent.

Converse has a large body of music in manuscript, none of which I had

the pleasure of examining save a tender sacred lullaby. There are two

symphonies, ten suites, and concert overture, three symphonic poems,

an oratorio, "The Captivity," six string quartettes, and a mass of

psalmodic and other vocal writing.

Of these works three have been produced with marked success: the

"Christmas Overture," at one of the public concerts of the Manuscript

Society, under the direction of Walter Damrosch; the overture "Im

Fruehling," at concerts in Brooklyn and New York, under the baton of

Theodore Thomas; and the American overture, "Hail Columbia!" at the

Boston Peace Jubilee under Patrick Gilmore, at the Columbian

Exposition under Thomas, and in New York under Anton Seidl.

This last overture received the distinction of publication at Paris,

by Schott et Cie. It is built on the rousing air of "Hail, Columbia!"

This is suggested in the slow minor introduction; the air itself is

indicated thematically as one of the subjects later appearing in full

swing in a coda. The instrumentation is brilliant and the climax

overwhelming.

Altogether the work is more than adroit musical composition. It is a

prairie-fire of patriotism.

_L.A. Coerne._

[Illustration: LOUIS ADOLPHE COERNE.]

A grand opera by an American on an American subject is an achievement

to look forward to. Though I have not seen this opera, called "A

Woman of Marblehead," it is safe to predict, from a study of its

composer's other works, that it is a thing of merit.

Louis Adolphe Coerne, who wrote the music for this opera, was born in

Newark, N.J., in 1870, and spent the years from six to ten in music

study abroad, at Stuttgart and Paris. Returning to America, he entered

Harvard College and studied harmony and composition under John Knowles

Paine. He studied the violin under Kneisel. In 1890 he went to Munich,

where he studied the organ and composition at the Royal Academy of

Music, under Rheinberger, and the violin under Hieber. He now decided

to give up the career of a violinist for that of composer, conductor,

and organist. In 1893 he returned to Boston and acted as organist. A

year later he went to Buffalo, where for three years he directed the

Liedertafel.

While in Harvard, Coerne had composed and produced a concerto for

violin and 'cello with string orchestra accompaniment, a fantasy for

full orchestra, and a number of anthems which were performed at the

university chapel. While in Munich and Stuttgart he wrote and produced

a string suite, an organ concerto with accompaniment of strings,

horns, and harps, three choral works, and a ballet, "Evadne," on a

subject of his own. His symphonic poem on Longfellow's "Hiawatha" was

also produced there with much success under his personal direction,

and later by the Boston Symphony Orchestra. He was invited then by

Theodore Thomas to attend the World's Fair at Chicago, to give

recitals on the great organ in Festival Hall.

It has been my misfortune not to have heard or seen hardly any of his

writings except the published "Character Pieces" from the ballet

"Evadne" (op. 155). A "Clown's Dance" in bolero rhythm is delightful.

The "Introduction to Act II." contains many varied ideas and one

passage of peculiar harmonic beauty. A "Valse de Salon" has its good

bits, but is rather overwrought. A "Devil's Dance" introduces some

excellent harmonic effects, but the "Waltz with Chorus and Finale" is

the best number of the opus. It begins in the orchestra with a most

irresistible waltz movement that is just what a waltz should be. A

chorus is then superimposed on this rhapsody, and a climax of superb

richness attained.

For the organ Coerne has written much and well. There is an adaptation

of three pieces from the string quartette (op. 19); a graceful Minuet,

a quaint Aria, and a Fugue. Then there are three Marches, which, like

most marches written by contemplative musicians, are rather thematic

than spirited, and marked by a restless and elaborate preparation for

some great chant that is longed for, but never comes. Besides these,

there are a very pleasant Pastoral, a good Elevation, and a Nocturne.

Coerne's symphonic poem, "Hiawatha," has been arranged for the piano

for four hands, and there is also an arrangement for violin or

violoncello and piano, but I have not seen these. The thing we are all

waiting for is that American grand opera, "A Woman of Marblehead." It

is to be predicted that she will not receive the marble heart.