the volume of composition,--a thing for which any one should be
thanked on some considerations,--yet add great dignity to their
profession in this country.
Arthur, a younger brother of Ethelbert Nevin, shows many of the
Nevinian traits of lyric energy and harmonic color in his songs. He
was born at Sewickley, Pa., in 1871. Until he was eighteen he had
neither interest nor knowledge in music. In 1891 he began a four
years' course in Boston, going thence to Berlin, where his masters
were Klindworth and Boise. A book of four graceful "May Sketches" has
been published, "Pierrot's Guitar" being especially ingenious. There
are two published songs, "Were I a Tone" and "In Dreams," both
emotionally rich. In manuscript are a fine song, "Free as the Tossing
Sea," and a well-devised trio.
A successful writer of songs is C. Whitney Coombs. He was born in
Maine, in 1864, and went abroad at the age of fourteen. He studied the
piano with Speidel, and composition with Seiffritz, in Stuttgart, for
five years, and pursued his studies later in Dresden under Draessecke,
Janssen, and John. In 1887 he became organist at the American Church
in that city, returning to America in 1891, since which time he has
been an organist in New York.
In 1891 his publication begins with "My Love," an excellent lilt on
lines from the Arabian. Among his many songs a few should be noted:
the "Song of a Summer Night" is brilliant and poetic, and "Alone" is
marked by some beautiful contramelodic effects; his "Indian Serenade"
is a gracious work.
J. Remington Fairlamb has been a prolific composer. He was born at
Philadelphia, and at fourteen was a church organist. He studied at the
Paris Conservatoire and in Italy; was appointed consul at Zurich by
President Lincoln, and while in Stuttgart was decorated by the King of
Wurtemburg with the "Great Gold Medal of Art and Science" for a Te
Deum for double chorus and orchestra. Of Fairlamb's compositions, some
two hundred have been published, including much sacred music and parts
of two operas. A grand opera, "Leonello," in five acts, and a mass are
in manuscript.
Frank Seymour Hastings has found in music a pleasant avocation from
finance, and written various graceful songs. He has been active, too,
in the effort to secure a proper production of grand opera in English.
Dr. John M. Loretz, of Brooklyn, is a veteran composer, and has passed
his opus 200. He has written much sacred music and several comic
operas.
A prominent figure in New York music, though only an occasional
composer, is Louis Raphael Dressler, one of the six charter members of
the Manuscript Society, and long its treasurer. His father was William
Dressler, one of the leading musicians of the earlier New York, where
Mr. Dressler was born, in 1861. Dressier studied with his father, and
inherited his ability as a professional accompanist and conductor. He
was the first to produce amateur performances of opera in New York.
His songs are marked with sincerity and spontaneity.
Richard Henry Warren has been the organist at St. Bartholomew's since
1886, and the composer of much religious music in which both skill and
feeling are present. Among his more important works are two complete
services, a scene for barytone solo, male chorus, and orchestra,
called "Ticonderoga," and a powerful Christmas anthem. Warren has
written also various operettas, in which he shows a particular grasp
of instrumentation, and an ability to give new turns of expression to
his songs, while keeping them smooth and singable. An unpublished
short song of his, "When the Birds Go North," is a remarkably
beautiful work, showing an aptitude that should be more cultivated.
Warren was born at Albany, September 17, 1859. He is a son and pupil
of George W. Warren, the distinguished organist. He went to Europe in
1880, and again in 1886, for study and observation. He was the
organizer and conductor of the Church Choral Society, which gave
various important religious works their first production in New York,
and, in some cases, their first hearing in America, notably, Dvorak's
Requiem Mass, Gounod's "Mors et Vita," Liszt's Thirteenth Psalm,
Saint-Saens' "The Heavens Declare," Villiers Stanford's "God is Our
Hope and Strength," and Mackenzie's "Veni, Creator Spiritus." Horatio
Parker's "Hora Novissima" was composed for this society, and
Chadwick's "Phoenix Expirans" given its first New York performance.
A prominent organist and teacher is Smith N. Penfield, who has also
found time for the composition of numerous scholarly works, notably,
an overture for full orchestra, an orchestral setting of the
eighteenth psalm, a string quartette, and many pieces for the organ,
voice, and piano. His tuition has been remarkably thorough. Born in
Oberlin, Ohio, April 4, 1837, he studied the piano in Germany with
Moscheles, Papperitz, and Reinecke, the organ with Richter,
composition, counterpoint, and fugue with Reinecke and Hauptmann. He
had also a period of study in Paris.
Another organist of distinction is Frank Taft, who is also a conductor
and a composer. His most important work is a "Marche Symphonique,"
which was performed by the Boston Symphony Orchestra. He was born in
East Bloomfield, New York, and had his education entirely in this
country, studying the organ with Clarence Eddy, and theory with
Frederic Grant Gleason.
A young composer of many graceful songs is Charles Fonteyn Manney, who
was born in Brooklyn in 1872, and studied theory with William Arms
Fisher in New York, and later with J. Wallace Goodrich at Boston. His
most original song is "Orpheus with His Lute," which reproduces the
quaint and fascinating gaucheries of the text with singular charm. He
has also set various songs of Heine's to music, and a short cantata
for Easter, "The Resurrection."
An ability that is strongly individual is that of Arthur Farwell,
whose first teacher in theory was Homer A. Norris, and who later
studied under Humperdinck in Germany. Among his works are an elaborate
ballade for piano and violin, a setting of Shelley's "Indian
Serenade," and four folk-songs to words by Johanna Ambrosius, the
peasant genius of Germany. Among others of his published songs is
"Strow Poppy Buds," a strikingly original composition.
A writer of numerous elegant trifles and of a serious symphony is
Harry Patterson Hopkins, who was born in Baltimore, and graduated at
the Peabody Institute in 1896, receiving the diploma for distinguished
musicianship. The same year he went to Bohemia, and studied with
Dvorak. He returned to America to assist in the production of one of
his compositions by Anton Seidl.
Very thorough was the foreign training of Carl V. Lachmund, whose
"Japanese Overture" has been produced under the direction of Thomas
and Seidl, in the former case at a concert of that society at which
many important native works have had their only hearing, the Music
Teachers' National Association. Lachmund was born at Booneville, Mo.,
in 1854. At the age of thirteen he began his tuition at Cologne, under
Heller, Jensen, and Seiss; later he went to Berlin to study with the
Scharwenkas, Kiel, and Moskowski. He had also four years of Liszt's
training at Weimar. A trio for harp, violin, and 'cello was played by
the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, and a concert prelude for the piano
was much played in concerts in Germany. Before returning to America,
Lachmund was for a time connected with the opera at Cologne.
_The Boston Colony._
To the composer potentially a writer of grand operas, but barred out
by the absolute lack of opening here, the dramatic ballad should offer
an attractive form. Such works as Schubert's "Erl-King" show what can
be done. Henry Holden Huss has made some interesting experiments, and
Fred. Field Bullard has tried the field.
[Illustration: FREDERICK FIELD BULLARD.]
Bullard's setting of Tennyson's almost lurid melodrama in six stanzas,
"The Sisters," has caught the bitter mixture of love and hate, and
avoided claptrap climaxes most impressively.
[Music: HYMN OF PAN.
Words by
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
Music by
FRED. FIELD BULLARD,
Op. 17, No. 4.
From the forests and highlands I come, I come;
From the river-girt islands,
Where waves are dumb;
From the forests and highlands,
From the river-girt islands,
I come, I come, I come.
The wind in the reeds and the rushes,
The bees in the bells of thyme,
The birds in the myrtle bushes,
The....
Copyright, 1894, by Miles & Thompson.
A FRAGMENT.]
"In the Greenwood" (op. 14) is graceful, and "A June Lullaby" has a
charming accompaniment of humming rain. Bullard has set some of
Shelley's lyrics for voice and harp or piano, in opus 17. "From Dreams
of Thee" gets a delicious quaintness of accompaniment, while the "Hymn
of Pan" shows a tremendous savagery and uncouthness, with strange and
stubborn harmonies. Full of the same roborific virility are his
settings to the songs of Richard Hovey's writing, "Here's a Health to
Thee, Roberts," "Barney McGee," and the "Stein Song." These songs have
an exuberance of the roistering spirit, along with a competence of
musicianship that lifts them above any comparison with the average
balladry. Similarly "The Sword of Ferrara," with its hidalgic pride,
and "The Indifferent Mariner," and the drinking-song, "The Best of All
Good Company," are all what Horace Greeley would have called "mighty
interesting." Not long ago I would have wagered my head against a
hand-saw, that no writer of this time could write a canon with
spontaneity. But then I had not seen Bullard's three duets in canon
form. He has chosen his words so happily and expressed them so easily,
and with such arch raillery, that the duets are delicious. Of equal
gaiety is "The Lass of Norwich Town," which, with its violin
obbligato, won a prize in the _Musical Record_ competition of 1899.
Bullard was born at Boston, in 1864. He studied chemistry at first,
but the claims of music on his interest were too great, and in 1888 he
went to Munich, where he studied with Josef Rheinberger. After four
years of European life he returned to Boston, where he has taught
harmony and counterpoint along rather original lines. He is a writer
with ideas and resources that give promise of a large future. His
scholarship has not led him away from individuality. He is especially
likely to give unexpected turns of expression, little bits of
programmism rather incompatible with the ballad form most of his songs
take. The chief fault with his work is the prevailing dun-ness of his
harmonies. They have not felt the impressionistic revolt from the old
bituminous school. But in partial compensation for this bleakness is a
fine ruggedness.
Of his other published songs, "At Daybreak" shows a beautiful fervor
of repression. "On the Way" is redeemed by a particularly stirring
finish. In opus 8, "A Prayer" is begun in D minor and ended in D
major, with a strong effect of sudden exaltation from gloom. "The
Singer" begins also in sombre style with unusual and abrupt
modulations, and ends in a bright major. "The Hermit" is likewise
grim, but is broad and deep. It uses a hint of "Old Hundred" in the
accompaniment.
Opus 11 couples two dramatic ballads. In this form of condensed drama
is a too-little occupied field of composition, and Bullard has written
some part songs, of which "In the Merry Month of May," "Her Scuttle
Hat," and "The Water Song" are worth mentioning. "O Stern Old Land" is
a rather bathetic candidate for the national hymnship. But his "War
Song of Gamelbar," for male voices, is really a masterwork.
Harmonists insist on so much closer compliance with rules for
smoothness in vocal compositions than in instrumental work, that the
usual composer gives himself very little liberty here. Bullard,
however, has found the right occasion for wild dissonances, and has
dared to use them. The effect is one of terrific power. This, his
"Song of Pan" and "The Sisters" give him a place apart from the rest
of native song-writers.
[Illustration: HOMER A. NORRIS.]
With all reverence for German music, it has been too much inclined of
late to domineer the rest of the world, especially America. A useful
counter-influence is that of Homer A. Norris, who has stepped out of
the crowd flying to Munich and neighboring places, and profited by
Parisian harmonic methods.
His book, "Practical Harmony," imparts a, to us, novel method of
disarming the bugaboo of altered chords of many of its notorious
terrors. He also attacks the pedantry of music "so constructed that it
appeals to the eye rather than the ear,--paper-work," a most
praiseworthy assault on what is possibly the heaviest incubus on
inspiration. In a later work on "Counterpoint" he used for chapter
headings Greek vases and other decorative designs, to stimulate the
ideal of counterpoint as a unified complexity of graceful contours.
Norris was born in Wayne, Me., and became an organist at an early
age. His chief interest has been, however, in the theory of music, and
he studied with G.W. Marston, F.W. Hale, and G.W. Chadwick, as well
as Emery. In deciding upon foreign study he was inspired to choose
France instead of Germany. This has given him a distinct place.
After studying in Paris for four years under Dubois, Godard, Guilmant,
and Gigout, he made his home in Boston, where he has since confined
himself to the teaching of composition.
As yet Mr. Norris has composed little, and that little is done on
simple lines, but the simplicity is deep, and the harmonies, without
being bizarre, are wonderfully mellow.
His first song, "Rock-a-bye, Baby," he sold for twelve printed copies,
and it is said to have had a larger sale than any cradle-song ever
published in this country. His song, "Protestations," is tender, and
has a violin obbligato that is really more important than the voice
part. The song, "Parting," is wild with passion, and bases a superb
melody on a fitting harmonic structure. I consider "Twilight" one of
the best American songs. It gets some unusual effects with intervals
of tenths and ninths, and shows a remarkable depth of emotion.
In the larger forms he has done a concert overture, "Zoroaster"
(which, judging from an outline, promises many striking effects), and
a cantata, "Nain," which has the sin of over-repetition of words, but
is otherwise marked with telling pathos and occasional outbursts of
intensely dramatic feeling.
Perhaps his most original work is seen in his book of "Four Songs for
Mezzo-Voice." The first is Kipling's "O Mother Mine," with harshnesses
followed by tenderest musings; the second is a noble song, "Peace,"
with an accompaniment consisting entirely of the slowly descending
scale of C major; a high-colored lilt, "The World and a Day," is
followed by a Maeterlinckian recitative of the most melting pathos.
This book is another substantiation of my belief that America is
writing the best of the songs of to-day.
One of the best-esteemed musicians in Boston, G.E. Whiting has
devoted more of his interest to his career as virtuoso on the organ
than to composition. Not many of such works as he has found time to
write have been printed. These include an organ sonata, a number of
organ pieces, a book of studies for the organ, six songs, and three
cantatas for solos, chorus, and orchestra, "A Tale of the Viking,"
"Dream Pictures," and "A Midnight Cantata."
Whiting was born at Holliston, Mass., September 14, 1842. At the age
of five, he began the study of music with his brother. At the age of
fifteen, he moved to Hartford, Conn., where he succeeded Dudley Buck
as organist of one of the churches. Here he founded the Beethoven
Society. At the age of twenty he went to Boston, and after studying
with Morgan, went to Liverpool, and studied the organ under William
Thomas Best. Later he made a second pilgrimage to Europe, and studied
under Radeck.
For many years he has lived in Boston as a teacher of music and
performer upon the organ. In manuscript are a number of works which I
have not had the privilege of seeing: two masses for chorus,
orchestra, and organ, a concert overture, a concerto, a sonata, a
fantasy and fugue, a fantasy and three etudes, a suite for 'cello and
piano, and a setting of Longfellow's "Golden Legend," which won two
votes out of five in the thousand dollar musical festival of 1897, the
prize being awarded to Dudley Buck.
[Music: Peace.
EDWARD ROWLAND SILL.
HOMER A. NORRIS.
'Tis not in seeking,
'Tis not in endless striving,
Thy quest is found:
Thy quest is found.
Be still and listen;
Be still and drink the quiet of all around
Not for thy crying,
Not for thy loud beseeching,
Will peace draw near:
Will peace draw near:
Rest with palms folded,
Rest with thine eyelids fallen
Lo! peace is here.
Copyright, 1900, by H.B. Stevens Co. International copyright secured.
Used by permission of H.B. Stevens Co., Boston, owners of the
copyright.]
Of his compositions H.E. Krehbiel in 1892 recorded the opinion that
they "entitled him to a position among the foremost musicians in this
country." He is an uncle of Arthur Whiting.
G.W. Marston's setting of the omnipresent "Du bist wie eine Blume" is
really one of the very best Heine's poem has ever had. Possibly it is
the best of all the American settings. His "There Was an Aged Monarch"
is seriously deserving of the frankest comparison with Grieg's
treatment of the same _Lied_. It is interesting to note the radical
difference of their attitudes toward it. Grieg writes in a folk-tone
that is severe to the point of grimness. He is right because it is
_ein altes Liedchen_, and Heine's handling of it is also kept
outwardly cold. But Marston has rendered the song into music of the
richest harmony and fullest pathos. He is right, also, because he has
interpreted the undercurrent of the story.
Bodenstedt's ubiquitous lyric, "Wenn der Fruehling auf die Berge
steigt," which rivals "Du bist wie eine Blume" in the favor of
composers, has gathered Marston also into its net. He gives it a
climax that fairly sweeps one off his feet, though one might wish that
the following and final phrase had not forsaken the rich harmonies of
the climax so completely.
This song is the first of a "Song Album" for sopranos, published in
1890. In this group the accompaniments all receive an attention that
gives them meaning without obtrusiveness. "The Duet" is a delicious
marriage of the song of a girl and the accompanying rapture of a bird.
A captivating little florid figure in the accompaniment of a setting
of "Im wunderschoenen Monat Mai" gives the song worth. "On the Water"
is profound with sombreness and big simplicity. "The Boat of My Lover"
is quaintly delightful.
Marston was born in Massachusetts, at the little town of Sandwich, in
1840. He studied there, and later at Portland, Me., with John W.
Tufts, and has made two pilgrimages to Europe for instruction. He
played the organ in his native town at the age of fifteen, and since
finishing his studies has lived at Portland, teaching the piano,
organ, and harmony. From the start his songs caught popularity, and
were much sung in concert.
Marston has written a sacred dramatic cantata, "David," and a large
amount of church music that is very widely used. He has written also a
set of quartettes and trios for women's voices, and quartettes for
men's voices.
Possibly his best-known song has been his "Could Ye Come Back to Me,
Douglas," which Mrs. Craik called the best of all her poem's many
settings.
Only Marston's later piano pieces are really _klaviermaessig_. So fine
a work as his "Gavotte in B Minor" has no need to consider the
resources of the modern instrument. It has a color scheme of much
originality, though it is marred by over-repetition. "A Night in
Spain" is a dashing reminiscence, not without Spanish spirit, and an
"Album Leaf" is a divertissement of contagious enthusiasm.
[Illustration: Autograph of G.W. Marston]
Ariel's songs, from "The Tempest," are given a piano interpretation
that reaches a high plane. There is a storm prologue which suggests,
in excellent harmonies, the distant mutter of the storm rather than a
piano-gutting tornado. "Full Fathoms Five Thy Father Lies" is a
reverie of wonderful depth and originality, with a delicious variation
on the good old-fashioned cadence. Thence it works up into an
immensely powerful close. A dance, "Foot it Featly," follows. It is
sprightly, and contains a fetching cadenza.
One of the most prolific writers of American song is Clayton Johns. He
is almost always pleasing and polished. While he is not at all
revolutionary, he has a certain individuality of ease, and lyric
quality without storm or stress of passion. Thus his settings of seven
"Wanderlieder" by Uhland have all the spirit of the road except
ruggedness.
His setting of "Du bist wie eine Blume" is extremely tender and sweet.
Two of Johns' best successes have been settings of Egyptian subjects:
"Were I a Prince Egyptian" and Arlo Bates' fine lyric, "No Lotus
Flower on Ganges Borne." The latter is a superb song of unusual fire,
with a strong effect at the end, the voice ceasing at a deceptive
cadence, while the accompaniment sweeps on to its destiny in the
original key. He has also found a congenial subject in Austin Dobson's
"The Rose and the Gardener." He gets for a moment far from its florid
grace in "I Looked within My Soul," which has an unwonted bigness, and
is a genuine _Lied_.
In later years Johns' songs have been brought out in little albums,
very artistically got up, especially for music (which has been
heinously printed, as a rule, in this country). These albums include
three skilfully written "English Songs," and three "French Songs,"
"Soupir" taking the form of melodic recitative. Opus 19 is a group of
"Wonder Songs," which interpret Oliver Herford's quaint conceits
capitally.
Opus 26 collects nine songs, of which "Princess Pretty Eyes" is
fascinatingly archaic. It is good to see him setting two such remotely
kindred spirits as Herrick and Emily Dickinson. The latter has hardly
been discovered by composers, and the former is too much neglected.
Johns has also written a few part songs and some instrumental works,
which maintain his characteristics. A delightful "Canzone," a happy
"Promenade," and "Mazurka" are to be mentioned, and a number of pieces
for violin and piano, among them a finely built intermezzo, a
berceuse, a romanza that should be highly effective, and a witty
scherzino. He has written for strings a berceuse and a scherzino,
which have been played by the Boston Symphony Orchestra, and certain
part songs, as well as a chorus for female voices and string
orchestra, have been sung in London.
Johns was born at New Castle, Del., November 24, 1857, of American
parents. Though at first a student of architecture, he gave this up
for music, and studied at Boston under Wm. F. Apthorp, J.K. Paine,
and W.H. Sherwood, after which he went to Berlin, where he studied
under Kiel, Grabau, Raif, and Franz Rummel. In 1884 he made Boston his
home.
If San Francisco had found some way of retaining the composers she has
produced, she would have a very respectable colony. Among the others
who have come east to grow up with music is William Arms Fisher, who
was born in San Francisco, April 27, 1861. The two composers from whom
he derives his name, Joshua Fisher and William Arms, settled in
Massachusetts colony in the seventeenth century. He studied harmony,
organ, and piano with John P. Morgan. After devoting some years to
business, he committed his life to music, and in 1890 came to New
York, where he studied singing. Later he went to London to continue
his vocal studies. Returning to New York, he took up counterpoint and
fugue with Horatio W. Parker, and composition and instrumentation with
Dvorak. After teaching harmony for several years, he went to Boston,
where he now lives. His work has been almost altogether the
composition of songs. A notable feature of his numerous publications
is their agreeable diversion from the usual practice of composers,
which is to write lyrics of wide range and high pitch. Nearly all his
songs are written for the average voice.
His first opus contains a setting of "Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt,"
which I like better than the banal version Tschaikowski made of the
same words. The third opus contains three songs to Shelley's words.
They show something of the intellectual emotion of the poet. The first
work, "A Widow Bird Sate Mourning," is hardly lyrical; "My Coursers
Are Fed with the Lightning" is a stout piece of writing, but the
inspired highfalutin of the words would be trying upon one who arose
to sing the song before an audience. This, by the way, is a point
rarely considered by the unsuccessful composers, and the words which
the singer is expected to declare to an ordinary audience are
sometimes astounding. The third Shelley setting, "The World's
Wanderer," is more congenial to song.
Opus 5 is entitled "Songs without Tears." These are for a bass voice,
and by all odds the best of his songs. An appropriate setting is
Edmund Clarence Stedman's "Falstaff's Song," a noteworthy lyric of
toss-pot moralization on death. His song of "Joy" is exuberant with
spring gaiety, and some of his best manner is seen in his "Elegie,"
for violin and piano. He has also written a deal of church song.
A venerable and distinguished teacher and composer is James C.D.
Parker, who was born at Boston, in 1828, and graduated from Harvard in
1848. He at first studied law, but was soon turned to music, and
studied for three years in Europe under Richter, Plaidy, Hauptmann,
Moscheles, Rietz, and Becker. He graduated from the conservatory at
Leipzig, and returned to Boston in 1845.
His "Redemption Hymn" is one of his most important works, and was
produced in Boston by the Haendel and Haydn Society in 1877. He also
composed other works for orchestra and chorus, and many brilliant
piano compositions.
An interesting method of writing duets is that employed in the
"Children's Festival," by Charles Dennee. The pupil plays in some
places the primo, and in others the secondo, his part being written
very simply, while the part to be played by the teacher is written
with considerable elaboration, so that the general effect is not so
narcotic as usual with duets for children. Dennee has written, among
many works of little specific gravity, a "Suite Moderne" of much
skill, a suite for string orchestra, an overture and sonatas for the
piano and for the violin and piano, as well as various comic operas.
He was born in Oswego, N.Y., September 1, 1863, and studied
composition with Stephen A. Emery.
A composer of a genial gaiety, one who has written a good minuet and
an "Evening Song" that is not morose, is Benjamin Lincoln Whelpley,
who was born at Eastport, Me., October 23, 1863, and studied the piano
at Boston with B.J. Lang, and composition with Sidney Homer and
others. He also studied in Paris for a time in 1890. He has written a
"Dance of the Gnomes," that is characteristic and brilliantly droll,
and a piano piece, called "Under Bright Skies," which has the panoply
and progress of a sunlit cavalcade.
Ernest Osgood Hiler has written some good music for the violin, a
book of songs for children, "Cloud, Field, and Flower," and some
sacred music. He studied in Germany for two years.
_The Chicago Colony._
Most prominent among Chicago's composers is doubtless Frederic Grant
Gleason, who has written in the large forms with distinguished
success. The Thomas Orchestra has performed a number of his works,
which is an excellent praise, because Thomas, who has done so much for
American audiences, has worried himself little about the American
composer. At the World's Fair, which was, in some ways, the artistic
birthday of Chicago, and possibly the most important artistic event in
our national history, some of Gleason's works were performed by
Thomas' organization, among them the _Vorspiel_ to an opera, "Otho
Visconti" (op. 7), for which Gleason wrote both words and music.
[Illustration: FREDERIC GRANT GLEASON.]
This _Vorspiel_, like that to "Lohengrin," is short and delicate. It
begins ravishingly with flutes and clarinets and four violins,
pianissimo, followed by a blare of brass. After this introductory
period the work runs through tenderly contemplative musing to the end,
in which, again, the only strings are the four violins, though here
they are accompanied by the brass and wood-winds and tympani, the
cymbals being gently tapped with drumsticks. The introduction to the
third act of the opera is more lyrical, but not so fine. Another opera
is "Montezuma" (op. 16). Gleason is again his own librettist. Of this
opera I have been privileged to see the complete piano score, and
much of the orchestral.
[Music: Montezuma, Act III, Introduction
Frederic Grant Gleason
EXCERPT FROM AN ORCHESTRAL SCORE BY MR. GLEASON.]
In the first act Guatemozin, who has been exiled by Montezuma, appears
disguised as an ancient minstrel and sings prophetically of the coming
of a god of peace and love to supplant the terrible idol that demands
human sacrifice. This superbly written aria provokes from the
terrified idolaters a chorus of fear and reproach that is strongly
effective. The next act begins with an elaborate aria followed by a
love duet of much beauty. A heavily scored priests' march is one of
the chief numbers, and like most marches written by the unco'
learned, it is a grain of martial melody in a bushel of trumpet
figures and preparation. The Wagnerian _leit-motif_ idea is adopted in
this and other works of his, and the chief objection to his writing is
its too great fidelity to the Wagnerian manner,--notably in the use of
suspensions and passing-notes,--otherwise he is a very powerful
harmonist and an instrumenter of rare sophistication. A soprano aria
with orchestral accompaniment has been taken from the opera and sung
in concert with strong effect.
Another work played at the World's Fair by Thomas, is a "Processional
of the Holy Grail." It is scored elaborately, but is rather brilliant
than large. It complimentarily introduces a hint or two of Wagner's
Grail motif.
The symphonic poem, "Edris," was also performed by the Thomas
Orchestra. It is based upon Marie Corelli's novel, "Ardath," which
gives opportunity for much programmism, but of a mystical highly
colored sort for which music is especially competent. It makes use of
a number of remarkably beautiful motives. One effect much commented
upon was a succession of fifths in the bass, used legitimately enough
to express a dreariness of earth.
This provoked from that conservative of conservatives, the music
copyist, a patronizing annotation, "Quinten!" to which Gleason added
"Gewiss!" A series of augmented triads, smoothly manipulated, was
another curiosity of the score.
Possibly Gleason's happiest work is his exquisite music for that most
exquisite of American poems, "The Culprit Fay." It is described in
detail in Upton's "Standard Cantatas," and liberally quoted from in
Goodrich' "Musical Analysis." While I have seen both the piano and
orchestral scores of this work (op. 15), and have seen much beauty in
them, my space compels me to refer the curious reader to either of
these most recommendable books.
Gleason has had an unusual schooling. He was born in Middletown,
Conn., in 1848. His parents were musical, and when at sixteen he wrote
a small matter of two oratorios without previous instruction, they put
him to study under Dudley Buck. From his tuition he graduated to
Germany, and to such teachers as Moscheles, Richter, Plaidy, Lobe,
Raif, Taussig, and Weitzmann. He studied in England after that, and
returned again to Germany. When he re-appeared in America he remained
a while at Hartford, Conn., whence he went to Chicago in 1876. He has
lived there since, working at teaching and composition, and acting as
musical critic of the Chicago _Tribune_. An unusually gifted body of
critics, dramatic, musical, and literary, has worked upon the Chicago
newspapers, and Gleason has been prominent among them.
Among other important compositions of his are a symphonic cantata,
"The Auditorium Festival Ode," sung at the dedication of the Chicago
Auditorium by a chorus of five hundred; sketches for orchestra, a
piano concerto, organ music, and songs.
As is shown by the two or three vocal works of his that I have seen,
Gleason is less successful as a melodist than as a harmonist. But in
this latter capacity he is gifted indeed, and is peculiarly fitted to
furnish forth with music Ebling's "Lobgesang auf die Harmonie." In his
setting of this poem he has used a soprano and a barytone solo with male
chorus and orchestra. The harmonic structure throughout is superb in all
the various virtues ascribed to harmony. The ending is magnificent.
[Illustration: WILLIAM H. SHERWOOD.]
A work completed December, 1899, for production by the Thomas
Orchestra, is a symphonic poem called "The Song of Life," with this
motto from Swinburne:
"They have the night, who had, like us, the day;
We whom the day binds shall have night as they;
We, from the fetters of the light unbound,
Healed of our wound of living, shall sleep sound."
The first prominent musician to give a certain portion of his program
regularly to the American composer, was William H. Sherwood. This
recognition from so distinguished a performer could not but interest
many who had previously turned a deaf ear to all the musical efforts
of the Eagle. In addition to playing their piano works, he has
transcribed numerous of their orchestral works to the piano, and
played them. In short, he has been so indefatigable a laborer for the
cause of other American composers, that he has found little time to
write his own ideas.
Sherwood will be chiefly remembered as a pianist, but he has written a
certain amount of music of an excellent quality. Opera 1-4 were
published abroad. Opus 5 is a suite, the second number of which is an
"Idylle" that deserves its name. It is as blissfully clear and ringing
as anything could well be, and drips with a Theokritan honey. The
third number of the suite is called "Greetings." It has only one or
two unusual touches. Number 4 bears the suggestive title, "Regrets for
the Pianoforte." It was possibly written after some of his less
promising pupils had finished a lesson. The last number of the suite
is a quaint Novelette.
[Music: IDYLLE.
WM. H. SHERWOOD, OP. 5, NO. 2.
Copyright, 1883, by G. Schirmer.
A FRAGMENT.]
Sherwood's sixth opus is made up of a brace of mazurkas. The former,
in C minor, contains some of his best work. It is original and moody,
and ends strongly. The second, in A major, is still better. It not
only keeps up a high standard throughout, but shows occasional touches
of the most fascinating art.
A scherzo (op. 7) cracks a few good jokes, but is mostly elaboration.
Opus 8 is a fiery romanza appassionata. Opus 9 is a Scherzo-Caprice.
This is probably his best work. It is dedicated to Liszt, and though
extremely brilliant, is full of meaning. It has an interlude of tender
romance. "Coy Maiden" is a graceful thing, but hardly deserves the
punishment of so horrible a name. "A Gypsy Dance" is too long, but it
is of good material. It has an interesting metre, three-quarter time
with the first note dotted. There is a good effect gained by
sustaining certain notes over several measures, though few pianists
get a real sostenuto. An "Allegro Patetico" (op. 12), "Medea" (op.
13), and a set of small pieces (one of them a burlesque called "A
Caudle Lecture," with a garrulous "said she" and a somnolent "said
he") make up his rather short list of compositions.
Sherwood was born at Lyons, New York, of good American stock. His
father was his teacher until the age of seventeen, when he studied
with Heimberger, Pychowski, and Dr. William Mason. He studied in
Europe with Kullak and Deppe, Scotson Clark, Weitzmann, Doppler,
Wuerst, and Richter. He was for a time organist in Stuttgart and later
in Berlin. He was one of those favorite pupils of Liszt, and played in
concerts abroad with remarkable success, winning at the age of
eighteen high critical enthusiasm. He has been more cordially
recognized abroad than here, but is assuredly one of the greatest
living pianists. It is fortunate that his patriotism keeps him at
home, where he is needed in the constant battle against the
indecencies of apathy and Philistinism.
The Yankee spirit of constructive irreverence extends to music, and in
recent years a number of unusually modern-minded theorists have worked
at the very foundations: Dr. Percy Goetschius (born here, and for long
a teacher at Stuttgart); O.B. Boise (born here, and teaching now in
Berlin); Edwin Bruce, the author of a very radical work; Homer A.
Norris; and last, and first, A.J. Goodrich, who has made himself one
of the most advanced of living writers on the theory of music, and has
made so large a contribution to the solidity of our attainments, that
he is recognized among scholars abroad as one of the leading spirits
of his time. His success is the more pleasing since he was not only
born but educated in this country.
[Illustration: A.J. GOODRICH.]
The town of Chilo, Ohio, was Goodrich' birthplace. He was born there
in 1847, of American parentage. His father taught him the rudiments of
music and the piano for one year, after which he became his own
teacher. He has had both a thorough and an independent instructor. The
fact that he has been enabled to follow his own conscience without
danger of being convinced into error by the prestige of some
influential master, is doubtless to be credited with much of the
novelty and courage of his work.
His most important book is undoubtedly his "Analytical Harmony,"
though his "Musical Analysis" and other works are serious and
important. This is not the place to discuss his technicalities, but
one must mention the real bravery it took to discard the old practice
of a figured bass, and to attack many of the theoretical fetiches
without hesitation. Almost all of the old theorists have confessed,
usually in a foot-note to the preface or in modest disclaimer lost
somewhere in the book, that the great masters would occasionally be
found violating certain of their rules. But this did not lead them to
deducing their rules from the great masters. Goodrich, however, has,
in this matter, begun where Marx ended, and has gone further even than
Prout. He has gone to melody as the groundwork of his harmonic system,
and to the practice of great masters, old and new, for the tests of
all his theories. The result is a book which can be unreservedly
commended for self-instruction to the ignorant and to the too learned.
It is to be followed by a book on "Synthetic Counterpoint," of which
Goodrich says, "It is almost totally at variance with the standard
books in counterpoint."
In his "Musical Analysis" he quoted freely from American composers,
and analyzed many important native works. He has carried out this plan
also in his book on "Interpretation," a work aiming to bring more
definiteness into the fields of performance and terminology.
Goodrich' composition is "a thing of the past," he says. In his youth
he wrote a score or more of fugues, two string quartettes, a trio that
was played in New York and Chicago, a sonata, two concert overtures, a
hymn for soprano (in English), invisible chorus (in Latin), and
orchestra, a volume of songs, and numerous piano pieces. He writes:
"In truth, I believed at one time that I was a real composer, but
after listening to Tschaikowski's Fifth Symphony that illusion was
dispelled. Had not Mrs. Goodrich rescued from the flames a few MSS. I
would have destroyed every note."
Only a piano suite is left, and this leads one to regret that
Tschaikowski should have served as a deterrent instead of an
inspiration. The suite has an inelaborate prelude, which begins
strongly and ends gracefully, showing unusual handling throughout. A
minuet, taken scherzando, is also most original and happy. There is a
quaint sarabande, and a gavotte written on simple lines, but superbly.
Its musette is simply captivating. All these little pieces indeed show
sterling originality and unusual resources in a small compass.
W.H. Neidlinger's first three songs were kept in his desk for a year
and then kept by a publisher for a year longer, and finally brought
out in 1889. To his great surprise, the "Serenade," which he calls
"just a little bit of commonplace melody," had an immense sale and
created a demand for more of his work. The absolute simplicity of this
exquisite gem is misleading. It is not cheap in its lack of ornament,
but it eminently deserves that high-praising epithet (so pitilessly
abused), "chaste." It has the daintiness and minute completeness of a
Tanagra figurine.
Mr. Neidlinger was born in Brooklyn, N.Y., in 1863, and was compelled
to earn the money for his own education and for his musical studies.
From Dudley Buck and, later, C.C. Muller, of New York, he has had his
only musical instruction. He lived abroad for some time, teaching the
voice in Paris, then returned to live in Chicago. He has written two
operas, one of them having been produced by the Bostonians.
Mr. Neidlinger builds his songs upon one guiding principle, that is,
faithfulness to elocutionary accent and intonation. As he neatly
phrases it, his songs are "colored sketches on a poet's engravings."
The usual simplicity of Mr. Neidlinger's songs does not forbid a
dramatic outburst at the proper time, as in the fine mood, "A Leaf;"
or the sombre depth of "Night," "Nocturne," and "Solitude;" or yet the
sustainedly poignant anguish of "The Pine-tree." Occasionally the
accompaniment is developed with elaborateness, as in the bird-flutings
of "The Robin," and "Memories," an extremely rich work, with its
mellow brook-music and a hint of nightingale complaint in the minor.
"Evening Song," a bit of inspired tenderness, is one of Mr.
Neidlinger's best works. Almost better is "Sunshine," a streak of
brilliant fire quenched with a sudden cloud at the end. Other valuable
works are "Messages," the happy little Scotch song, "Laddie," and
"Dreaming," which is now sombre, now fierce with outbursts of agony,
but always a melody, always ariose.
Mr. Neidlinger has made a special study of music for children, his
book, "Small Songs for Small Children," being much used in
kindergarten work. A book of his, devoted to a synthetic philosophy of
song, is completed for publication; he calls it "Spenser, Darwin,
Tyndall, etc., in sugar-coated pills; geography, electricity, and
hundreds of other things in song."
_The Cleveland Colony._
The city of Cleveland contains a musical colony which is certainly
more important than that of any town of its size. About the tenth of
our cities in population, it is at least fourth, and possibly third,
in productiveness in valuable composition.
[Illustration: WILSON G. SMITH.]
The most widely known of Cleveland composers is Wilson G. Smith. He
has been especially fortunate in hitting the golden mean between
forbidding abstruseness and trivial popularity, and consequently
enjoys the esteem of those learned in music as well as of those merely
happy in it.
[Illustration: Autograph of Wilson G. Smith]
His erudition has persuaded him to a large simplicity; his nature
turns him to a musical optimism that gives many of his works a
Mozartian cheer. Graciousness is his key.
He was born in Elyria, O., and educated in the public schools of
Cleveland, where he graduated. Prevented by delicate health from a
college education, he has nevertheless, by wide reading, broadened
himself into culture, and is an essayist of much skill. His musical
education began in 1876, at Cincinnati, where his teacher, Otto
Singer, encouraged him to make music his profession. In 1880 he was in
Berlin, where he studied for several years under Kiel, Scharwenka,
Moskowski, and Oscar Raif. He then returned to Cleveland, where he
took up the teaching of organ, piano, voice, and composition.
The most important of Smith's earlier works was a series of five
pieces called "Hommage a Edvard Grieg," which brought warmest
commendation from the Scandinavian master. One of the most striking
characteristics of Smith's genius is his ability to catch the exact
spirit of other composers. He has paid "homage" to Schumann, Chopin,
Schubert, and Grieg, and in all he has achieved remarkable success,
for he has done more than copy their little tricks of expression,
oddities of manner, and pet weaknesses. He has caught the
individuality and the spirit of each man.
In his compositions in Grieg-ton Smith has seized the fascinating
looseness of the Griegorian tonality and its whimsicality. The
"Humoresque" is a bit of titanic merriment; the "Mazurka" is most
deftly built and is full of dance-fire; the "Arietta" is highly
original, and the "Capricietto" shows such ingenious management of
triplets, and has altogether such a crisp, brisk flavor, that it
reminds one of Lamb's rhapsody on roast pig, where he exclaims, "I
tasted _crackling_!" The "Romance," superb in gloom and largeness of
treatment, is worthy of the composer of "The Death of Asra." A later
work, "Caprice Norwegienne," is also a strong brew of Scandinavian
essence.
A "Schumannesque" is written closely on the lines of Schumann's
"Arabesque." A later "Hommage a Schumann" is equally faithful to
another style of the master, and dashes forth with characteristic and
un-naive gaiety and challenging thinness of harmony, occasionally
bursting out into great rare chords, just to show what can be done
when one tries.
The man that could write both this work and the highly faithful
"Hommage a Schubert," and then whirl forth the rich-colored, sensuous
fall and purr of the "Hommage a Chopin," must be granted at least an
unusual command over pianistic materials, and a most unusual acuteness
of observation.
He can write _a la_ Smith, too, and has a vein quite his own, even
though he prefers to build his work on well-established lines, and fit
his palette with colors well tempered and toned by the masters.
In this line is opus 21, a group of four pieces called "Echoes of Ye
Olden Time." The "Pastorale" is rather Smithian than olden, with its
mellow harmony, but the "Minuetto" is the perfection of chivalric
foppery and pompous gaiety. The "Gavotte" suggests the contagious good
humor of Bach, and the "Minuetto Grazioso," the best of the series,
has a touch of the goodly old intervals, tenths and sixths, that taste
like a draught of spring water in the midst of our modern liqueurs.
The musical world in convention assembled has covenanted that certain
harmonies shall be set apart for pasturage. Just why these arbitrary
pastorales should suggest meads and syrinxes, and dancing shepherds,
it would be hard to tell. But this effect they certainly have, and a
good pastorale is a better antidote for the blues and other civic ills
than anything I know, except the actual green and blue of fields and
skies. Among the best of the best pastoral music, I should place
Smith's "Gavotte Pastorale." It is one of the five pieces in his book
of "Romantic Studies" (op. 57).
This same volume contains a "Scherzo alla Tarantella," which is full
of reckless wit. But the _abandon_ is so happy as to seem misplaced in
a tarantella, that dance whose traditional origin is the maniacal
frenzy produced by the bite of the tarantula. An earlier Tarantella
(op. 34) is far truer to the meaning of the dance, and fairly raves
with shrieking fury and shuddering horror. This is better, to me, than
Heller's familiar piece.
The "Second Gavotte" is a noble work, the naive gaiety of classicism
being enriched with many of the great, pealing chords the modern piano
is so fertile in. I count it as one of the most spontaneous gavottes
of modern times, one that is buoyant with the afflation of the olden
days. It carries a musette of which old Father Bach need not have felt
ashamed,--one of the most ingenious examples of a drone-bass ever
written.
The "Menuet Moderne" is musical champagne. A very neat series of
little variations is sheafed together, and called "Mosaics." Mr. Smith
has written two pieces well styled "Mazurka Poetique;" the later (opus
48) is the more original, but the sweet geniality and rapturously
beautiful ending of opus 38 is purer music. "Les Papillons" is marked
with a strange touch of negro color; it is, as it were, an Ethiopiano
piece. Its best point is its cadenza. Smith has a great fondness for
these brilliant precipitations. They not only give further evidence
of his fondness for older schools, but they also partially explain the
fondness of concert performers for his works. His fervid "Love
Sonnet," his "Polonaise de Concert," full of virility as well as
virtuosity, and his delicious "Mill-wheel Song," and a late
composition, a brilliant "Papillon," rich as a butterfly's wing, are
notable among his numerous works. Possibly his largest achievement is
the three concert-transcriptions for two pianos. He has taken pieces
by Grieg, Raff, and Bachmann, and enlarged, enforced, decorated, and
in every way ennobled them. But to me his most fascinatingly original
work is his "Arabesque," an entirely unhackneyed and memorable
composition.
Smith's experience in teaching has crystallized into several pedagogic
works. His "Scale Playing with particular reference to the
development of the third, fourth, and fifth fingers of each hand;" his
"Eight Measure," "Octave," and "Five Minute" studies, have brought the
most unreserved commendation from the most important of our teachers.
A late and most happy scheme has been the use of a set of variations
for technical and interpretative instruction. For this purpose he
wrote his "Themes Arabesques," of which numbers one and eighteen not
only have emotional and artistic interest, but lie in the fingers in a
strangely tickling way.
What might be called a professorial simplicity is seen in many of
Smith's songs. The almost unadorned, strictly essential beauty of his
melodies and accompaniments is neither neglect nor cheapness; it is
restraint to the point of classicism, and romanticism all the intenser
for repression. Take, for example, that perfect song, "If I but
Knew," which would be one of a score of the world's best short songs,
to my thinking. Note the open fifths, horrifying if you thump them
academically, but very brave and straightforward, fitly touched.
There is something of Haydn at his best in this and in the fluty
"Shadow Song," in "The Kiss in the Rain," and "A Sailor's Lassie," for
they are as crystalline and direct as "Papa's" own immortal
"Schaeferlied."
[Music: To Mr. Constantin Sternberg.
ARABESQUE.
Wilson G. Smith, Op. 39.
Copyright, 1889, by O. Ditson & Co.]
Smith has gone over to the great majority,--the composers who have set
"Du bist wie eine Blume;" but he has joined those at the top. Two of
Smith's songs have a quality of their own, an appeal that is
bewitching: "Entreaty," a perfect melody, and "The Dimple in Her
Cheek," which is fairly peachy in color and flavor.
A strange place in the world of music is that held by Johann H. Beck,
whom some have not feared to call the greatest of American composers.
Yet none of his music has ever been printed. In this he resembles B.J.
Lang, of Boston, who keeps his work persistently in the dark, even
the sacred oratorio he has written.
All of Beck's works, except eight songs, are built on very large
lines, and though they have enjoyed a not infrequent public
performance, their dimensions would add panic to the usual timidity
of publishers. Believing in the grand orchestra, with its complex
possibilities, as the logical climax of music, Beck has devoted
himself chiefly to it. He feels that the activity of the modern artist
should lie in the line of "amplifying, illustrating, dissecting, and
filling in the outlines left by the great creators of music and the
drama." He foresees that the most complicated scores of to-day will be
Haydnesque in simplicity to the beginning of the next century, and he
is willing to elaborate his best and deepest learning as far as in him
lies, and wait till the popular audience grows up to him, rather than
write down to the level of the present appreciation.
The resolve and the patient isolation of such a devotee is nothing
short of heroic; but I doubt that the truest mission of the artist is
to consider the future too closely. Even the dictionaries and
encyclopaedias of one decade, are of small use to the next. The tiny
lyrics of Herrick, though, have no quarrel with time, nor has time any
grudge against the intimate figurines of Tanagra. The burdened
trellises of Richard Strauss may feel the frost long before the
slender ivy of Boccherini's minuet.
[Music: A FRAGMENT OF THE SCORE OF "SALAMMBO," BY JOHANN H. BECK.]
Science falls speedily out of date, and philosophy is soon out of
fashion. Art that uses both, is neither. When it makes crutches of
them and leans its whole weight on them, it will fall with them in
the period of their inevitable decay.
Of course, there is evolution here as well as in science. The artist
must hunt out new forms of expressing his world-old emotions, or he
will not impress his hearers, and there is no gainsaying Beck's thesis
that the Chinese puzzle of to-day will be the antique simplicity of a
later epoch. But it must never be forgotten, that art should be
complex only to avoid the greater evils of inadequacy and triteness. A
high simplicity of plan and an ultimate popularity of appeal are
essentials to immortal art.
It is my great misfortune never to have heard one of Beck's works
performed, but, judging from a fragment of a deliciously dreamy
moonlight scene from his unfinished music drama, "Salammbo," which he
kindly sent me, and from the enthusiasm of the severest critics, he
must be granted a most unusual poetic gift, solidity and whimsicality,
and a hardly excelled erudition. His orchestration shows a hand lavish
with color and cunning in novel effects. Several of his works have
been performed with great applause in Germany, where Beck spent many
years in study. He was born at Cleveland, in 1856, and is a graduate
of the Leipzig Conservatorium.
In art, quality is everything; quantity is only a secondary
consideration. It is on account of the quality of his work that James
H. Rogers must be placed among the very best of modern song-writers,
though his published works are not many. When one considers his
tuition, it is small wonder that his music should show the finish of
long mastery. Born in 1857, at Fair Haven, Conn., he took up the study
of the piano at the age of twelve, and at eighteen was in Berlin,
studying there for more than two years with Loeschorn, Rohde, Haupt,
and Ehrlich, and then in Paris for two years under Guilmant, Fissot,
and Widor. Since then he has been in Cleveland as organist, concert
pianist, and teacher.
[Illustration: Autograph of James H. Rogers]
His songs are written usually in a characteristic form of dramatic,
yet lyric recitative. His "Album of Five Songs" contains notable
examples of this style, particularly the "Good-Night," "Come to Me in
My Dreams," and the supremely tragic climax of "Jealousy." The song,
"Evening," with its bell-like accompaniment, is more purely lyric,
like the enchanting "At Parting," which was too delicately and
fragrantly perfect to escape the wide popularity it has had. His
"Declaration" is ravishingly exquisite, and offers a strange contrast
to the "Requiescat," which is a dirge of the utmost largeness and
grandeur. His graceful "Fly, White Butterflies," and "In Harbor," and
the dramatic setting of "The Loreley," the jovial "Gather Ye Rosebuds"
of jaunty Rob Herrick, the foppish tragedy of "La Vie est Vaine" (in
which the composer's French prosody is a whit askew), that gallant,
sweet song, "My True Love Hath My Heart," and a gracious setting of
Heine's flower-song, are all noteworthy lyrics. He has set some of
Tolstoi's words to music, the sinister love of "Doubt Not, O Friend,"
and the hurry and glow of "The First Spring Days," making unusually
powerful songs. In the "Look Off, Dear Love," he did not catch up
with Lanier's great lyric, but he handled his material most
effectively in Aldrich' "Song from the Persian," with its Oriental
wail followed by a martial joy. The high verve that marks his work
lifts his "Sing, O Heavens," out of the rut of Christmas anthems.
Of instrumental work, there is only one small book, "Scenes du Bal," a
series of nine pieces with lyric characterization in the spirit, but
not the manner of Schumann's "Carneval." The most striking numbers are
"Les Bavardes," "Blonde et Brune," and a fire-eating polonaise.
These close the lamentably small number of manifestations of a most
decisive ability.
Another Cleveland composer well spoken of is Charles Sommer.
A young woman of genuine ability, who has been too busy with teaching
and concert pianism to find as much leisure as she deserves for
composition, is Patty Stair, a prominent musical figure in Cleveland.
Her theoretical studies were received entirely at Cleveland, under F.
Bassett. Her published works include a book of "Six Songs," all of
them interesting and artistic, and the "Madrigal" particularly
ingenious; and a comic glee of the most irresistible humor, called "An
Interrupted Serenade;" in manuscript are a most original song,
"Flirtation," a jovial part song for male voices, "Jenny Kissed Me," a
berceuse for violin and piano, a graceful song, "Were I a Brook," a
setting of Thomas Campion's "Petition," and another deeply stirring
religious song for contralto, "O Lamb of God."
_The St. Louis Colony._
The most original and important contribution to American music that
St. Louis has made, is, to my mind, the book of songs written by
William Schuyler. The words were chosen from Stephen Crane's book of
poems, "The Black Riders." The genius of Crane, concomitant with
eccentricity as it was, is one of the most distinctive among American
writers. The book called "The Black Riders" contains a number of
moods that are unique in their suggestiveness and originality. Being
without rime or meter, the lines oppose almost as many difficulties to
a musician as the works of Walt Whitman; and yet, as Alfred Bruneau
has set Zola's prose to music, so some brave American composer will
find inspiration abundant in the works of Walt Whitman and Emily
Dickinson.
[Music: III.
_WILLIAM SCHUYLER._
There was, before me,
Mile upon mile of snow, ice, burning sand.
And yet I could look beyond all this,
To a place of infinite beauty;
And I could see the loveliness of her
Who walked in the shade of the trees.
When I gazed,
All was lost
But this place of beauty and her
When I gazed,
And in my gazing, desired
Then came again
Mile upon mile,
Of snow, ice, burning sand, burning sand.
Words used by permission of Copeland and Day.
Copyright, 1897, by Wm. Schuyler.
FROM WM. SCHUYLER'S "BLACK RIDERS."]
Schuyler was born in St. Louis, May 4, 1855, and music has been his
livelihood. He is largely self-taught, and has composed some fifty
pieces for the piano, a hundred and fifty songs, a few works for
violin, viola, and 'cello, and two short trios.
In his setting of these lines of Crane's, Schuyler has attacked a
difficult problem in an ideal manner. To three of the short poems he
has given a sense of epic vastitude, and to two of them he has given a
tantalizing mysticism. The songs, which have been published privately,
should be reproduced for the wide circulation they deserve.
Another writer of small songs displaying unusual individuality is
George Clifford Vieh, who was born in St. Louis and studied there
under Victor Ehling. In 1889, he went to Vienna for three years,
studying under Bruckner, Robert Fuchs, and Dachs. He graduated with
the silver medal there, and returned to St. Louis, where he has since
lived as a teacher and pianist.
Alfred George Robyn is the most popular composer St. Louis has
developed. He was born in 1860, his father being William Robyn, who
organized the first symphonic orchestra west of Pittsburg. Robyn was a
youthful prodigy as a pianist; and, at the age of ten, he succeeded
his father as organist at St. John's Church, then equipped with the
best choir in the city. It was necessary for the pedals of the organ
to be raised to his feet. At the age of sixteen he became solo pianist
with Emma Abbott's company. As a composer Robyn has written some three
hundred compositions, some of them reaching a tremendous sale. A few
of them have been serious and worth while, notably a piano concerto, a
quintette, four string quartettes, a mass, and several orchestral
suites.
There are not many American composers that have had a fugue published,
or have written fugues that deserve publication. It is the distinction
of Ernest Richard Kroeger that he has written one that deserved, and
secured, publication. This was his 41st opus. It is preceded by a
prelude which, curiously enough, is thoroughly Cuban in spirit and is
a downright Habanera, though not so announced. This fiery composition
is followed by a four-voiced "real" fugue. The subject is genuinely
interesting, though the counter-subject is as perfunctory as most
counter-subjects. The middle-section, the stretto-work, and the
powerful ending, give the fugue the right to exist.
Among other publications are a suite for piano (op. 33), in which a
scherzo has life, and a sonata for violin and piano, in which,
curiously enough, the violin has not one instance of double-stopping,
and the elaborating begins, not with the first subject taken
vigorously, but with the second subject sung out softly. The last
movement is the best, a quaint and lively rondo. A set of twelve
concert etudes show the influence of Chopin upon a composer who writes
with a strong German accent. The etude called "Castor and Pollux" is a
vigorous number with the chords of the left hand exactly doubled in
the right; another etude, "A Romanze," is noteworthy for the practice
it gives in a point which is too much ignored even by the best
pianists; that is, the distinction between the importance of the tones
of the same chord struck by the same hand. A work of broad
scholarship, which shows the combined influence of Beethoven and
Chopin, who have chiefly affected Kroeger, is his sonata (op. 40). A
dominant pedal-point of fifty-eight measures, in the last movement, is
worth mentioning. In a "Danse Negre" and a "Caprice Negre," he has
evidently gone, for his Ethiopian color, not to the actual negro
music, but to the similar compositions of Gottschalk. Kroeger was born
in St. Louis, August 10, 1862. At the age of five he took up the study
of the piano and violin. His theoretical tuition was all had in this
country. He has written many songs, a piano concerto, sonatas for
piano and viola, and piano and 'cello, two trios, a quintette, and
three string quartettes, as well as a symphony, a suite, and overtures
based on "Endymion," "Thanatopsis," "Sardanapalus" (produced by Anton
Seidl, in New York), "Hiawatha," and "Atala."