LATE ROMANTICS IN GERMANY AND ELSEWHERE
The dilution of the romantic spirit--Grieg and his
songs--Minor romantic lyricists; Peter Cornelius, Adolph
Jensen, Eduard Lassen, Georg Henschel, and Halfdan Kjerulf;
Dvořák’s songs--French song-writers: Gounod and others;
Saint-Saëns and Massenet; minor French lyricists--Edward
MacDowell as song-writer; Nevin and others--Rubinstein and
Tschaikowsky--English song.
I
Every great burst of genius in any department of art is followed
by widespread imitation. The genius (the _seer_, as Carlyle calls
him) _sees_ his way to new objects and achievements which lesser
men are blind to. Before the genius has done the thing, the thing
seems impossible; after he has done it, it seems divinely simple.
The genius seems to have taught people how. Every second-rate talent
can now follow the formula and produce the same results. Of course,
the second-rate talent cannot produce _quite_ the same results, easy
as it may seem. But the first-rate talent (and geniuses following)
can produce fine results and can even produce results that are more
thorough and more refined, because they are building upon the work of
genius. So the impulse spreads. Many men take up the work that had
formerly been the unique property of one. The genius has done the
pioneer work. The new department of art is advertised by him, made
popular, even made profitable. Lesser men can get something like the
same results with less sacrifice, less effort. The imitators, in turn,
have their imitators. The great initial impulse, as it spreads, also
weakens. Fine strokes of genius are imitated until they become only
formulas. People are familiar with the style and are satisfied with
less convincing results than formerly. The art-form may even become so
codified and formulated that first-rate men will become disgusted and
refuse to give their serious efforts to it. Then the small fry are left
in full possession of the field.
Something like this happened to song literature after Schubert.
Fortunately, song writing has continually, since Schubert, attracted
enough first-rate men to prevent it from falling into a depraved state
in all countries at once. But the general course of song literature
since Schubert’s death has been that of diffusion and dilution up
nearly to the end of the century, when the well-developed harmonic
systems of the younger composers poured new energy into the form.
Throughout the greater part of this time there were first-rate men
working--Schumann, Franz, Brahms, and others. But there was also
an increasingly great number of second-rate men who wrote charming
and artistic songs--songs which we could by no means overlook. And
there was also an increasing number of inferior men who gained great
popularity on very slender artistic resources. Many of these showed
marked individuality, exquisite finish of workmanship, and fine
inspiring ideas. They are by no means to be omitted from any history of
song. They cannot and should not be excluded from concert programs. In
some respects certain of them have surpassed the great masters. It is
also true that excellent work, even first-class work, may be produced
in small quantities by men who have scarcely any claim on fame. So
any attempt, like the attempt in this chapter, to list and describe
the work of a number of less important composers must exclude certain
workers in the field whose songs are of high excellence. In such a
chapter as this the warning must always be given that the list is not
all-inclusive. A man who is quite unknown may produce work equal
almost to the best. The student should, while keeping high standards
of judgment, regard any song as innocent until it has proved itself
guilty. He should always be willing to recognize excellence; he should
always be honestly willing to express his liking for a particular song,
be it unknown or despised. Such a chapter as this, we have said, is
necessarily incomplete. The student must, in the course of his study,
complete it for himself.
After the death of Schumann we see the art of song-writing spreading
to every European country which cultivated music at all. Germany, in
addition to Brahms, Wagner, and Liszt, can show Cornelius, Jensen,
and Lassen among the most prominent. Scandinavia is represented by
Kjerulf and Grieg. The French have a long line of well-known song
writers, many of them scarcely above the level of mediocrity and not
one showing any touch of first-rate talent. In Italy we see a slender
interest in song writing, which, however, produced a rather large
number of songs, some of much beauty. Russia, in addition to the truly
national composers (who will be treated in another chapter), had
distinguished song writers in Rubinstein and Tschaikowsky. England,
still in a dry formalistic period, produced one true romanticist of
great talent--Arthur Goring-Thomas--and several popular writers whose
work shows less distinction. And America (if we extend the period
slightly for the sake of convenience) shows one song writer--Edward
MacDowell--who ranks almost among the greatest. Many of these composers
rank now much lower than they did in their lifetime. Others will
likely drop more and more out of sight as more recent work becomes
known. Tschaikowsky and Gounod, for instance, have been much overrated
in the past. A few others, like Cornelius, are not so well known as
they deserve to be, and as they presently will be if heaven showers
discrimination upon singers and concert audiences. In any case, the
values represented in this chapter are largely values in transition.
Even among these composers, most of whom are dead, there are still
reputations to be made and lost.
II
Edvard Grieg (1843-1907) was essentially a writer in the small forms.
His ill health and also probably the cast of his genius prevented
him from undertaking labors that called for great concentration and
endurance. But in the small forms he is one of the most delightful
of the romanticists of the second half of the nineteenth century. He
used harmonic color with telling results. He was a master of rhythmic
effects. In particular he introduced into his music something of the
peculiar folk-idiom of his country (whether he did it in conscious
imitation of the folk-songs does not matter). He was one of the first
of the distinctly national composers to become universally known and
popular. His melody is always engaging; the national peculiarities
of it are not so obtrusive or so unusual as to alienate the ordinary
listener. He is distinctly easy to enjoy. He was highly successful
in the creation of poetic effect, in which he was helped by the
provocative unusualness of his idiom. In the musical painting of
pictures, in the suggestion of moods that have a sensuous tinge, there
were few of his contemporaries who can equal him.
It is evident that such a man would be successful with songs. And
Grieg’s songs (there are only 146 of them) are among the most
delightful we have. Some critics are glad to place him just below
Schubert and Brahms. Certainly he shows in his songs a spontaneity,
an _élan_, that is one of the prime qualities of the lyrical spirit.
Like Franz, he makes his songs brief and to the point. Unlike Franz,
he takes considerable freedom of form and outline and makes an easy
appeal to an unsophisticated public. As an interpreter of moods he is
admirable. But his songs have made their popularity probably more on
their sheer beauty than on any interpretative quality.
In several of his ballads Grieg has caught a suggestion of the
archaic--a certain angularity of melody which is crude yet beautiful.
This is typified in ‘The Princess,’ words by the Norwegian poet
Björnsen; and ‘The Old Song,’ words by Heine. But in general Grieg
shows that he has little to add to the ballad or the longer vocal
forms. He is at his most typical, and possibly at his best, in ‘The
Swan,’[29] words by the dramatist Ibsen. Here he is using harmonic
color for all it will yield. In style the song is as far as possible
removed from the work of Franz, for it consists simply of a melody
with chords for accompaniment. There is scarcely a suggestion of the
polyphonic style. The chords, generally in a slightly unusual or
altered form, are simply juxtaposed. From their contrast comes the
color which is so marked in this song. No other composer, before Grieg,
had done this particular thing so well and in point of originality
the song can justly be included among the great ones of the world.
In _Ich liebe dich_, which is far better known, he is in a vein that
is much less fine. Here there is nothing of the national idiom. The
song is indeed remarkable for the manner in which it creates emotional
excitement in a mere four lines. But through it all there is something
of the vulgar. It is not a song apart, like ‘The Swan,’ but one of the
horde.
We must grant it as one of Grieg’s distinctions that his songs have a
marked individuality and distinction, one from the other, even though
this distinction is more superficial than essential. In general scheme,
no two of his best songs are much alike. Each has a virtue which is
peculiar to it. In ‘Solvejg’s Song’ he writes in a modal folk-style,
charming, yet a little more sophisticated than a folk-song would be.
‘Autumn Storm’ is a good piece of emotional expression, though uneven.
‘The Minstrel’s Song’ shows dramatic power in a compressed phrase.
‘The Youth’ is admirable in its management of a declamation which is
still melody. More items of technical interest appear in ‘The Berry,’
‘A Fair Vision,’ and ‘My Goal.’ These, especially the last, are all
songs of a high order. In ‘My Goal’ we should notice the vigor which is
injected into the whole piece by the composer’s harmonic freedom. The
handling of the piano part on the _fff_ climax is especially typical
of Grieg. In ‘The Berry’ the accompaniment contains a certain sort
of free counterpoint, which becomes very effective in the composer’s
chromatic method of handling it. ‘A Fair Vision’ (_Was sah ich_) makes
much use of picture drawing in the accompaniment, with its glittering
introduction and its delicious descending chromatic voice in the
bass. The chords of the middle section, very Grieg-like in style,
are particularly charming. In ‘Friendship’ the composer uses unusual
chords, again, to express the feeling or the idea of unfaithfulness.
The listener will be struck by the likeness of this song to Schubert’s
_Doppelgänger_. ‘The Old Mother’ is a simple and very beautiful song,
more folk-like even than is usual with Grieg. One of the most exquisite
of Grieg’s songs, from the standpoint of artistry and taste, is ‘Hidden
Love,’ a model of sensitive writing, in which every note can be heard
and every note is in place. The deeply tragic note is not often sounded
by Grieg, but in ‘By the Bier of a Young Wife’ he has achieved it
superbly. This song is especially worth study for the extreme freedom
of its modulation. The harmonic movement is so constant that there
is scarcely any feeling of a change from key to key, but rather a
sense of moving about in a musical world that is without tonality. The
student should also notice the extremely effective use of dissonance.
Among the shorter songs we should also notice ‘Solvejg’s Cradle Song’
and the ‘Folk-song from Langeland.’
In the long song entitled ‘From Mount Pincio’ Grieg the picture-painter
is at his best. The poet stands on the mount and sees Italy spread out
before him. Nature is in a mysterious and lovely mood. The peasants,
with their dancing, lend animation to the peaceful scene. And the
ancient Italy, the Italy of Rome, rises to his mind. One feels that
Liszt should have composed this song, even though he might have made
it over-pompous. Grieg has chosen to ignore the suggestion of ancient
Italy in his music, using his old musical material to express the new
idea. Yet this conservatism undoubtedly has the virtue of lending unity
to the song, which otherwise is flawless in point of taste. The mood
of mysterious nature Grieg has described best of all in his cycle,
‘From Mountain and Fjord.’ The prologue and epilogue of this group
have a heroic grandeur and yet a sympathetic intimacy which we feel
in great vistas of landscape. In the last number in particular the
flashes of grandeur seem at times supernatural. In both these songs
the declamatory style is masterfully handled. The songs within this
impressive frame are short and folk-like and markedly in the Grieg
idiom. Indeed, the composer, among his unpretentious songs, has written
nothing more charming than ‘Ragnhild’ and ‘Ingebjorg.’
III
Of the various song writers whom, for convenience, we are here calling
‘minor,’ there is one who should not be given the epithet without
reservation. This is Peter Cornelius (1824-1874), friend and disciple
of Liszt and partisan of Wagner. The work of Cornelius has something
of the great strain in it. The man had a fine and daring talent, if
not positive genius. His work seems somehow unfinished, without quite
enough authority to place him among the masters. It is as though he
were making sketches for Parnassus, but had died before attempting the
giant canvas. Perhaps he took up music too late. He was a mature man
with a profession before he felt the influence of Liszt and devoted
himself wholly to composition. Though he was by no means deficient in
technical ability, one somehow feels that fate had got a head-start
of him--that the truly great composer must become such in his cradle.
But those who will take the trouble to know him will find him one
of the most satisfactory of the less known German composers. He
responded to Liszt’s intense and generous interest in music. He had the
enthusiasm of the amateur and the energy and thoroughness of the German
professional man. He was blessed with the open mind which enabled him
to fight for Wagner when the latter was known in Germany only to be
despised. He had a keen artistic sense, together with a vigorous and
critical mentality which enabled him to use it with much force. And he
had what so few composers possess, the breadth of culture and interest
which comes from knowing other subjects besides music intimately and
well. From his songs one gets the impression that nearly all show
originality and creative power, though not many have the final stamp of
authority to raise them into a class with the great. From the creative
standpoint Cornelius’s songs are far superior to Jensen’s. But, because
he was unable to give his work the same finish of style that Jensen
gave to his, he is not, like Jensen, a name known to every singer of
songs. Let us go to Cornelius chiefly for stimulation, leaving in the
background for the time our sense of form and finish.
Many of Cornelius’s published songs are mainly experimental. He seems
to have written what he wrote with much difficulty. It is doubtful
if he was often altogether satisfied with the work that left his
composing desk. The songs of the ‘Lord’s Prayer’ cycle, for instance,
are extremely interesting and impressive in conception, but they
nearly always fail in execution. Out of the group only the ninth, ‘And
Deliver Us from Evil,’ is quite satisfactory. But the man’s imagination
is shown in what he evidently attempted to do in the sixth, ‘And
Forgive Us Our Debts,’ which has a fine fugal bass. The third song of
the series, ‘Thy Kingdom Come,’ is probably next in interest. Of the
other early songs we may mention the ‘Shepherd’s Night-Song,’ ‘In the
Moonlight’ (a charming scherzo), the ‘Slumber Song,’ and ‘Think’st Thou
of Me?’ Of much beauty is ‘Come, Let Us Wander,’ which obtains a gently
colored ‘atmosphere’ with the simplest of means. And among the later
songs there are three fine ones which should be mentioned--‘On Molly’s
Death,’ to one of Bürger’s famous poems; _Auftrag_ and _Abendgefühl_,
the last probably Cornelius’s best song.
A good part of his work is contained in song cycles, namely: ‘Sorrow
and Consolation,’ the ‘Rhine Songs,’ the ‘Christmas Songs,’ and the
‘Bridal Songs.’ In the first of these, for which the composer wrote
his own words (he was a poet of much ability), we find three songs
which must rank high. These are: ‘From the Quiet Spot,’ ‘Dreaming,’
and ‘A Tone.’ The second would answer anyone’s doubts as to whether
Cornelius had the lyric gift. For he has given us here a song which
in its few measures can throw magic over our souls. The best known of
all his songs is ‘A Tone,’ in which the voice part is carried entirely
on one note, while the accompaniment weaves lovely fabrics of melody
around it. This, the only song of its kind which the writer is able
to call to mind, might have been a mere trick. We can imagine such
a song being written on a bet. But a few measures of ‘A Tone’ will
dispel any such notion. For the lyric is a work of art throughout.
The water-mark of the second-rate song writer is not to be found in a
single measure. Of the ‘Rhine Songs’ the best is the fourth, ‘Fancies.’
The Christmas Songs are interesting for the composer’s attempt to
adapt them to children. The melodies, of the utmost simplicity, have
an ecclesiastical ring which lends color to the sentiment. Of the six
songs the best is ‘Three Kings,’ but the whole group is worth knowing
for the peculiar vitality of their modal style. The finest and most
beautiful of the song cycles, however, is the group known as ‘Bridal
Songs.’ These _Brautlieder_, the words written by the composer, seek to
interpret six various sentiments of a young girl at the season of her
marriage. They are wonderfully delicate in sentiment and finished in
execution. The opening song, ‘A Myrtle Spray,’ is tender and appealing;
the third, _Vorabend_, is in Cornelius’s fine half declamatory style;
and the fourth, the ‘Morning Prayer,’ is a deep and noble expression
of religious sentiment, one of the finest things the composer has
achieved. In these songs we can scarcely complain of lack of finish and
authority. These qualities they have, together with inherent beauty and
originality. If Cornelius could have written a greater number of songs
like the _Brautlieder_, the _Auftrag_, and the _Abendgefühl_ we should
surely be obliged to rank him among the ‘great’ song writers. As it is,
his work deserves far more general recognition than it has received and
we have reason to expect that his fame will spread.
Adolph Jensen (1837-1879) was a much more finished song-writer than
Cornelius and a much less vital one. His songs have gained much
popularity among singers because of their perfect taste, their fine
sense of fitness and perfection of form, and their ‘singability.’
Sometimes he attains sheer beauty of no mean order. But in the
actual business of expression Jensen’s songs do not often ring true.
The composer is chiefly at home with the lighter sentiments or with
nature in her gentler moods. Pierce much beneath the surface and the
expression is insincere. Undoubtedly there was in Jensen a sensitive
and genuine artistic nature. But it had neither the robustness nor the
spontaneity necessary for the creation of a lyric literature. Jensen’s
contribution, if he has contributed anything, is a certain refinement
of outline. His songs sound much like other good German songs, only
rather more timid.
His very first published song, _Lehn’ deine Wang an meine Wang_, is
known wherever there are students of singing. It has been universally
admired for its simplicity and touching sentiment. It has been highly
praised for its delicacy of workmanship. But, granted that it was a
masterpiece according to the standards of its day, its day is past.
Nowadays we are demanding a more positive assertion, a more creative
musicianship. Jensen did far better than this in later songs. Some
of his vigorous lyrics are admirable, notably the Bolero, ‘In the
Shadow,’ ‘On the Bank of the River,’ and ‘Old Heidelberg,’ the last
an excellent essay in popular counterpoint. The formal often attains
charming results in Jensen’s songs, witness, ‘Mother, I Have Two Little
Eyes,’ which is a miniature symphony allegretto. But on the whole it is
in his nature-songs that he is most at ease. The list of superior ones
is rather long--‘Murmuring Breezes,’ ‘Spring Night,’ and ‘Evening Air’
are representative. The _Waldesgespräch_ depends more on pure melody
in the voice than does Schumann’s setting of the same words, and is in
every way an inferior song. The Scotch songs have their charm, but are
so empty of feeling compared with the fine tunes to which the words
are set in their native country that their composition seems a sin.
But ‘Sleep’st Thou, My Maiden?’ in which the folk-spirit is purely
German, is a charming song. The best of all, however, is probably
‘Margarete at the Door.’
[Illustration: Minor Romanticists.
Top: Carl Löwe and Peter Cornelius
Bottom: Eduard Lassen and Adolf Jensen]
Eduard Lassen (1830-1904) was even less pretentious than Jensen in his
songs, but rather more genuine and satisfactory. Possibly we cannot
call him a true interpreter of emotion, but we must credit him with the
composition of many a lovely melody. Lassen was Liszt’s successor in
the directorship at Weimar and thus lived in a stimulating atmosphere.
His songs, which were probably the outcome of moments of play, rather
than serious efforts, show both more buoyancy and more elasticity than
do those of Jensen. With them we are again breathing the fresh air,
albeit a peaceful air. Many of his songs content themselves with being
simple strophic melodies, interpretive only in general mood and not in
detail. The best loved of his songs, ‘Thine Eyes So Blue and Tender,’
is fairly typical of the simpler ones. Lassen’s setting of Heine’s ‘It
Was a Dream’ is more truly an art-song, though its appeal is gained
by the simplest of means. ‘Whither’ has an arpeggio accompaniment
which adds admirably to the simple freshness of the song. ‘Spring’ is
furnished forth with interesting modulations, managed with unfailing
taste. In ‘Thou Fairest Vision’ Lassen becomes vigorous and passionate;
in ‘The Sun’s Bright Beams’ he attains dignity and breadth within brief
space. In considering Lassen’s lyrical and melodic style it should
be interesting for the reader to compare his settings of Heine with
Schumann’s--as, for instance, in ‘It was a Dream,’ _Ein Fichtenbaum
steht einsam_, and _Ich hab’ im Traum geweinet_. On the whole, though
Lassen struck out no new path in song writing, though he enlarged no
boundaries and tapped no new fields of expression, he kept his songs on
a high plane of artistic genuineness. Among the song composers of the
last half of the century who expressed themselves chiefly by means of
melody, Lassen is one of the most notable.
Georg Henschel (born Breslau 1850) is a song writer whose present
reputation is very far from equalling the high standard of his work.
This is perhaps because his songs as a whole show no striking element
of novelty. But it is none the less regrettable. For in point of pure
merit Henschel must be ranked among the finest song writers of his
time. Born and educated in Germany, he has spent most of the working
years of his life in America and England, where he has made a notable
reputation as singer and conductor. His musicianship is solid and
deep, his inspiration fresh and unhackneyed, his method honest and
straightforward. He is purely German. In his songs we feel the best
traditions of the best song writers, concentrated and amalgamated, but
without any element of crass imitation. His songs have the artistic
finish which is necessary to give conviction to any lyric work. In mood
they vary greatly from that of natural grandeur and religious dignity
all the way to the most delicate sentiment and humor. Each of the
songs is nicely individualized, both in the musical themes and in the
manner of treatment. In them one is often reminded of Schumann, but the
solid musicianship of Brahms is equally evident. There are no slipshod
songs in his list and few which do not stand on a high artistic level.
The accompaniment is rich, but on the whole conservative, acting
essentially as a support to the voice, however richly decorated it
may be. The general method is strictly lyrical and melodic. Pure
declamation enters seldom. The dramatic and the picturesque elements
are present, but subordinated to the lyrical. Schumann’s influence
is continually evident, but Brahms, too, is there with his solid and
careful musicianship. Further, we must place Henschel as one of the
great masters of the folk-spirit in art-song. His naïveté is not
studied; it springs from a human sympathy with the fundamental things
in music. We have repeatedly mentioned in this book the great test of
the song writer, namely that he shall be able to express emotional
states in a few notes; by this test Henschel is among the most genuine
of lyricists.
Henschel’s songs have been published in small groups throughout his
period of activity. Many of the groups are in the nature of suites, or
at least have some element of unity. We may mention the ‘Forest Flowers
of Thuringia,’ opera 22 and 24; the six songs, _Im Volkston_, opus 29;
the _Serbisches Liederspiel_, opus 32, comprising ten songs in a close
cycle; the four songs to poems by Hafiz, opus 34; and the three songs
from Kingsley’s ‘Water Babies,’ opus 36. Opera 22, 24, 29, and 32 are
all largely in the folk-manner and comprise some of Henschel’s best. In
addition to these and numerous independent songs there are a number of
ballads, some of them furnished with orchestral accompaniment which are
among the best examples of this difficult modern form.
The various songs in folk-manner offer a fine study in musical taste
and understanding. In the best of them the peculiarities of each
text have been caught with such accuracy that any other musical
interpretation seems impossible. Examine, for instance, the two ‘Love
Laments of a Maiden’--the long, crawling, saga-like melodic line of the
first, the dignified chorale form of the second. Both are impeccable
in point of metre and word-accent. But the utter contrast in musical
style shows Henschel’s fine discrimination in his treatments of his
texts. He catches not merely the external characteristics, but the
innermost meaning of each of his poems. Thus when he sets that tiny
folk-masterpiece, _Wenn du bei meinem Schätzel kommst_, he suggests in
his music the varying mood of the lines, but he keeps the song far away
from the delineative, showing in his folk-like treatment of it that
he regarded the poem primarily as a unit--as a _single_ play of wit.
Songs like _Verstohlen geht der Mond auf_ and ‘Ladybird’ seem quite
perfect examples of delicate and graceful song writing. _Mei Schätzerl_
is a humorous song which is hardly surpassed by Brahms or Wolf. Another
song that is in every way a masterpiece is ‘The Miller’s Farewell,’
a melody purely in the folk-character, with a subtle pathos verging
on tragedy. _Der Holdseligen_, one of the best of all his songs, is
of a different sort. It is essentially an art-song, though at first
glance it seems to bear the cachet of the folk. It is not a whit more
difficult or complicated than any of the folk-songs, but there is in it
somewhere that element of conscious design that makes the difference.
A study of this song and one or two of Henschel’s pure folk-songs,
such as _Mund und Auge_, will reveal much concerning the sensitive
deftness of his art. In the more pretentious art-song Henschel is just
as much the master. His ‘Morning Hymn,’ perhaps his best known song,
is of a grandeur rarely to be met with outside of Hugo Wolf. Indeed,
in the deeper emotions Henschel is seldom found wanting. His themes
are truthful and convincing; his development clear and strong; his
musicianship fertile and resourceful.
Among the minor German song writers Alexander von Fielitz (born 1860)
has achieved unusual popularity. He is best known by his cycle,
_Eliland_, which is, by all odds, his best work. The story of the
monk’s hopeless love is in itself a groundwork of extraordinary
sentimental appeal. Von Fielitz has thrown himself into his task with
great sympathy. All the songs are of marked musical value. When sung
together, they reveal many lights and shades of rare poetical charm.
Here von Fielitz is a convincing interpreter of the emotions. In his
other songs he rarely strikes the same level. His themes frequently
have no marked character and his technique is lacking in resource.
Often a mannerism of another composer--Schumann or Wagner--is
introduced in a rather obvious way. In short, von Fielitz has hurt
his reputation by writing too much and repeating himself too often.
In _Das grüne, lustige Waldgezelt_ he is fresh and spirited and
uses with effect his somewhat manneristic contrasting voices in the
accompaniment. The _Mädchenlieder_, to words by Geibel, are delicate
and very singable. The Jester Songs, to words by Otto Julius Bierbaum,
are fairly interesting; the best being ‘The Melancholy Fool.’ Among the
best of his songs are _Nachruf_, with its stimulating inner voices,
and _Wehmuth_, which is an excellent study in emotional climax. His
settings of the Tuscan Popular Poems by Gregorovius and of the Modern
Greek Folk-songs by Geibel often show marked grace and charm. But on
the whole we search in vain in his songs for the genius-touch that
proclaims the master.
An early song writer of Norway, who, because of the character of his
work, can properly be named here, is Halfdan Kjerulf (1818-1868). He
was not of the line of Schubert. His songs, which are very numerous,
content themselves with a vague sentimental charm. But though he did
nothing to advance the art-song, the man was an artist. His melodies
have had great popularity and are perhaps known better to the man in
the street than to the professional singer. His ‘Last Night’ has become
a folk-song the world over. From the artistic point of view the ‘Love
Sermon’ is perhaps the best. ‘Synnöve’s Song’ and ‘Little Uenevil’
have all the genuineness of the folk-song and all the sureness of the
art-song, a combination which many a composer might envy. ‘The Mother
at the Cradle’ is a touching melody, with a delicate second melody in
the accompaniment. ‘I Journeyed over the Sea’ is a fine ballad, simple
and genuine, and _Abendstimmung_ and ‘God Knows where He Wanders’ are
songs well worth knowing. In some of these lyrics Kjerulf is no more
an art-song composer than Stephen Foster. But throughout he shows that
he is a musician and a man of fine taste, and within its narrow limits
much of his work is admirable.
Anton Dvořák (1841-1904), the greatest of the Bohemian composers,
was known to the world chiefly through his orchestral, operatic, and
choral works. He, however, published a few groups of songs which
reveal his individual qualities--rich and somewhat Slavic melody,
sound musicianship, and captivating resourcefulness in many-colored
modulation. The songs have not proved sufficiently numerous or
sufficiently strong to hold a permanent place on concert programs.
There are, however, a number of charming ones among them, especially
the ‘Gypsy Songs,’ which have the dash of the Brahms _Zigeunerlieder_,
and in addition more emotional color and more national characteristics.
We should also mention in Germany Eric Meyer-Helmund (born 1861),
represented by ‘A Maiden’s Wish’; Joachim Raff (1822-1882) with his
charming ‘Serenade’; and Gustav Graben-Hoffmann (1820-1900) with ‘Five
Hundred Thousand Devils.’
Worthy of somewhat more detailed notice is August Bungert (born 1846),
who has recently become more generally known, in Germany at least, for
works of larger calibre, but whose rather over-pretentious ambition in
attempting to out-do Wagner in a musico-dramatic tetralogy, _Homerische
Welt_, has made him appear somewhat ridiculous. Many of his songs,
which show the hand of the technically proficient musician, are set to
words by Carmen Sylva (‘Songs of a Queen,’ etc.). Perhaps his best vein
is shown in the simple, folk-like setting of _Ich hab’ein kleines Lied
erdacht_, which combines a genuine naïve feeling with fine workmanship
and spontaneous lyric charm.
IV
In France, we have said, a multitude of songs were produced after
Schubert had set the fashion. They began, as we have seen, with Monpou
and Berlioz. But with the exception of the latter we have not a single
original and authoritative voice in French song writing until the
time of Fauré, Debussy, and the later César Franck. The French song
tradition, derived from the French aria, was indeed distinctive. But
it was badly fitted for intimate interpretation, being cold in spirit
and thin in workmanship. The best that can be said about this tradition
is that it observed a fine economy of means, never using a note that
could not be heard and that did not make its effect. But in the truer
sense the tradition was not economical, for it failed to get out of its
potential resources one tenth of the expressive service it might have
had. The French composers were too much occupied with the beauty of
their melodic line, which is so all-important that the accompaniment
is very frequently no more than a re-duplication of the voice part
in the treble, with a few thin and misplaced chords added. Nor has
this over-shadowing melody any of the warmth of an Italian tune; on
the contrary it is so cold and self-conscious that it seems to have
been put down note by note after a consultation with a book of rules.
Anything like fertility of polyphonic invention in the accompaniment
is not to be found in the works of this tradition. All the art is to
be expended on the singer’s part. Undoubtedly this offers considerable
exercise to the singer’s intelligence, for due proportion of outline
and of nuance must be preserved. But the songs from this period which
offer any possibilities to the finer interpretive ability of the artist
can be numbered on the fingers of one hand.
Charles Gounod (1818-1893) was unquestionably a man of great talent.
But he abused it miserably. The composer of ‘Faust’ should have left
his mark deeply on French art. He only added one or two successful
operas to it. His songs show his talent in its picturesqueness and
variety. But they also show with terrible plainness its abuse. It
seems safe to say that there are not half a dozen of them which a
self-respecting singer can study. On the whole, Gounod is best in his
songs where he is least pretentious--namely, in the little serenade,
‘Sing, Laugh, Sleep,’ which without grudging we may call utterly
charming. The Barcarolle, _Ou voulez-vous aller_, may also be included
among the excellent ones. Then comes a large collection of sentimental
or emotional songs which seem beneath a musician’s notice--songs
such as _A la Brise_, _Mignon_, or the well known ‘Oh, That We Two
Were Maying.’ The last is in a screaming sentimental style which has
fortunately died, except in the vaudeville houses of England. Some
of the concert pieces--like the Arabian song ‘Medje,’ or the waltz,
_O legère hirondelle_--are frankly cheap and undeniably effective.
Another class of songs on which Gounod made a glittering reputation
was the religious. One of them, which is quite the best, set a whole
fashion for grandiose lyrics exploiting what might be called ‘popular
religion.’ This song, ‘Nazareth,’ has its marked beauties and doubtless
should not be held responsible for the fruits it produced, especially
in England. Yet even apart from the consideration of ultimate results
we cannot help feeling that this beautiful song represents a rather
theatrical type of religion. And the other songs are consistently
worse. _L’ange Gardien_ and _La salutation angélique_ have their
beauties, but smell much of the theatre. Others of the religious songs,
like ‘There Is a Green Hill Far Away’ and _Temple, ouvre-toi_, are
execrable.
Two other opera composers who failed to gain Gounod’s reputation as a
song-writer worked with more consistent artistic conscience. Ambroise
Thomas (1811-1896), composer of ‘Mignon,’ published a number of songs,
notably the six Italian songs written during his residence as a _Prix
de Rome_ scholar in Italy. His part-songs for men’s voices also gained
great popularity because of their spirited treatment. Georges Bizet
(1838-1875) was a man of far finer mettle than either of the two we
have named. His numerous songs show as high a standard of excellence
and almost as high an average of creativeness as the work of any song
writer between Berlioz and Fauré. The best and most popular of them is
the _Pastorale_. Another excellent lyric is _Après l’hiver_. In the
_Sérénade_ and _Ouvre ton cœur_ we find a suggestion of the exotic
color which was popular in Paris at the time. _Je n’en dirai rien_
illustrates Bizet’s aptitude at the imitation of the antique, and _Qui
donc t’aimera mieux_ is an interesting and altogether charming trick
song for an agile soprano. Among the other songs which are well worth
knowing are _Rêve de la bien-aimée_, _Ma vie a son secret_, _Douce
mer_, and _N’oublions pas!_
Félicien David (1810-1876), who initiated in Paris the vogue of the
exotic, maintained the fashion as best he could in his songs, which
show a talent for the picturesque and striking and no small amount of
musicianship. The best of his songs is doubtless _Les Hirondelles_,
which adds to a charming simple melody an accompaniment full of
picturesque ornamentation.
Camille Saint-Saëns (born 1835), an admirably solid force in French
musical life on the whole, has in his songs added nothing of importance
to the literature of his time. It is regrettable that he could not
here have shown his acquaintance with the great German masters as he
did in chamber and orchestral music. Ten songs or so will suggest
the character of his work. We find, in addition to the ‘cold melodic
line’ of which we have spoken, a growing use of dissonance in
the later songs, for emotional or ‘psychological’ effect. If this
tendency had been in any way original to Saint-Saëns and his fellows,
or if it had been developed in a distinctive fashion, it would have
constituted a real claim to fame, for this is precisely the most
marked characteristic of the fine modern French song literature.
As it is, in such a song as _Tristesse_ we must regard the use of
dissonance as a ‘looking forward’ to modern times, but in scarcely more
than an accidental way. Undoubtedly Saint-Saëns used his dissonance
deliberately and not accidentally, but the entrance of this feature
into French song as a whole was scarcely more than accidental. _Suzette
et Suzon_ is an example of what the French are likely to do very
well--the imitation of the antique. This song has a marked charm and
there are many more like it in the literature of the time. _Le Sommeil
des Fleurs_ may stand as an example of the French emphasis on melody
(at the time) and the effect which they could derive from it. In _La
Cloche_ we see an effort after color and picture painting, though it
is but weak and conventional. _Le Pas d’armes du Roi Jeanito_, to
Hugo’s words, is a ballad of some spirit and attempted color. All these
songs are filled with banalities and carelessness of writing. Much
more carefully and creatively written is _Clair de Lune_, which tries
an interesting experiment with accents. The accents of the voice part
all seem to be misplaced, since they do not coincide with those of the
accompaniment. In reality both parts receive equal emphasis in the
accents, or rather there are no accents at all. The composer’s way of
writing the song merely emphasises one more interesting point in French
song which, more than any other, determined the character of its music
throughout the century--namely, the liquid quality of its verse. We may
also mention among Saint-Saëns’ songs the Barcarolle, the _Désir de
l’Orient_, an effective concert piece, and _Au Cimetière_, which is
one of the most popular.
Jules Massenet (1842-1912), tireless composer of operas, wrote many
songs which stand fairly high among French lyrics of their class.
They have a certain facility and geniality to commend them, and in
particular a voluptuous sinuous contour. Massenet’s use of the slow
12/8 or 9/8 tempo was one of his chief stocks-in-trade. But, except as
pleasing and unpretentious parlor songs, we cannot regard them very
seriously. Though his lifetime overlapped the ‘new school’ by more
than two decades, he is distinctly of the old school. His harmony is
quite old-fashioned and he shows but few traces of the French search
for atmosphere. His one personal quality is an increased sensuousness
of melody, achieved without special aid from the accompaniment. The
best of his songs is among the earliest, the ‘Elegy,’ adapted from
an orchestral intermezzo which formed part of the incidental music
for _Les Erinnyes_. In _A Colombine_ he has created a charming genre
piece. In the _Nuit d’Espagne_, a gentle and reserved song of exotic
tendencies, in the _Chant Provençal_, a typical 12/8 melody, luscious
yet ‘chaste,’ over the barest of chord accompaniments. In the sprightly
_Sérénade du passant_ he is altogether delightful, especially in
insinuating into the melody more meaning than meets the ear. On the
other hand, he has written any number of sentimental songs which, like
‘Open Thy Blue Eyes,’ are rubbish.
In the same general school are a number of composers (some of them
Massenet’s pupils) who have written songs in quantity, some with
occasionally charming results. One of the most fertile and popular
was Benjamin Godard (1849-1895). His work was marred by the rapidity
with which it was written, necessitating an uncritical attitude on the
composer’s part which is fatal to the general body of a man’s work.
Several felicitous examples of Godard’s work, however, well deserve
their popularity, especially the Berceuse from _Jocelyn_, the delicate
‘Florian’s Song,’ and the spirited Barcarolle, _Embarquez-vous_.
_L’Amour_ may be taken as an example of the great majority of his
songs--conventional but pleasing.
Of even greater popularity and possibly more originality is the work
of Cécile Chaminade (born 1861), whose songs occasionally approach
a high degree of artistic finish. In her genre songs Mme. Chaminade
is especially felicitous. Several random examples are the _Chanson
Slave_ and the _Chanson Espagnole_, among the pseudo-national lyrics;
the _Mandoline_ and _Madrigal_ and _Voisinage_, each in a special and
easily appreciated style. In her dainty imitations of the antique the
composer shows her French training and zest--notably in _Auprès de ma
mie_, _Noël des oiseaux_, and _Ronde d’amour_. In her emotional songs,
such as _Chanson triste_ and _Amoroso_, she is less distinguished.
And in the religious or grandiose songs, such as _Immortalité_ and
_l’Idéal_, she is pompous, noisy, and uninspired. Her creative impulse
is not great. Her ideas are most charming when they are most modest
But when she is working with material that is to her taste she can
manipulate it with a deftness that many a first-rate composer might be
proud of.
A further group of French song writers may be mentioned because their
work contains some elements of distinction. Gabriel Pierné (born 1863),
a musician of fine endowments and a force in Parisian musical life,
works with deftness and excellent taste, chiefly in the smaller forms
and the more modest ideas. J. Guy Ropartz (born 1864), a pupil of
César Franck, has kept himself clear of the modern radical tendencies
in Paris and has continued to produce songs in the old manner, but
considerably more vigorous and creative in content than was once the
fashion. Xavier Léroux (born 1863), with at least one fine song, ‘The
Nile,’ should be named, and also Augusta Mary Anne Holmès (1847-1903),
an Irish woman who lived and worked in Paris and wrote songs of large
and pretentious outline, best of which, perhaps, is ‘An Irish Noël.’
Reynaldo Hahn (born 1874), one of the weaker pupils of Massenet,
followed his master’s method to considerable popularity but to little
artistic purpose. Other song-writers who may profitably be mentioned
are Arthur Coquard (born 1846) and George Adolphe Huë (born 1851).
V
The position of Edward MacDowell (1861-1911) as a lyricist is still
disputed. Mr. Finck ranks him among the four greatest song-writers of
the world. In point of sincerity and individuality he was surpassed
by few of his contemporaries. From the beginning of his maturity on
he wrote scarcely a note that did not bear his personal signature. In
two or three of his songs he is certainly hobnobbing among the great.
But though nearly all his work is charmingly individual, one may doubt
whether he has written a sufficient quantity of superior songs to
entitle him to the rank to which Mr. Finck assigns him. But the songs
are there, independently of what rank this or that writer chooses
to give him. He is unsurpassed in giving his music certain special
qualities or moods, distinct, yet not got by strained means--moods
such as banter, sentimental tenderness, playfulness, and the like.
The achieving of such results is one of the ultimate things in song
writing from the technical point of view, and many first rank composers
have been unequal to it. To achieve it is a special mark of genius for
the art-song. Again, we find that MacDowell’s songs have a remarkable
amount of distinction and individuality; though the personality of the
composer is over all, each of the songs has its own personality, too.
The range is considerable; from playfulness, through sensuous emotion,
to deepest tragedy, and each type, at MacDowell’s hands, is equally
individual and almost equally successful. The MacDowell idiom, derived
in part from Grieg, is used flexibly for many things and is usually a
fine instrument of emotional expression. We should not, however, leave
this listing of the qualities of MacDowell’s songs without mentioning
their frequent tendency to the banal, a tendency which is never marked
or long sustained, but which appears in unexpected places to rob the
songs of their final touch of aristocratic distinction.
The earliest of the MacDowell songs is a group of Scotch melodies,
an endeavor to imitate the Scotch style, yet not so closely as to do
away with individuality. ‘Deserted,’ to the old words ‘Ye Banks and
Braes of Bonny Doon,’[30] is appealing and tragic, altogether a fine
piece of work. But the Scotch songs of opus 34 are more beautiful and
more personal. Both ‘Menie’ and ‘My Jean’ (words by Burns) deal in
the Scotch cadences and phrases, but they might also stand as a study
for the great songs of opus 47. The songs of opus 26, entitled ‘From
an Old Garden,’ show MacDowell at his best in his lighter moods. ‘The
Blue Bell,’ which maintains a mood half of banter and half of pathos,
is admirable, and ‘The Myrtle,’ with its harmonic freedom yet cogent
expression, is of decided technical interest. Leaving to the last the
two greatest of MacDowell’s song groups, let us make mention in passing
of opus 56, two excellent songs, ‘The Swan Bent Low to the Lily’ and
‘A Maid Sings High and a Maid Sings Low,’ which are as personal as
anything the composer has done; of opus 58 with the pleasing ‘Merry
Maids,’ and of opus 60, with ‘Tyrant Love,’ another very personal song,
and ‘Fair Springtide,’ original and invigorating.
The two great opus numbers referred to are 40 and 47. The ‘Six Love
Songs’ of opus 40 include one which is perhaps the best known of all
MacDowell’s vocal work--‘Thy Beaming Eyes.’ In this song we must admire
the strenuousness of the hot emotion which the composer is able to
conjure up, but we cannot help wishing that he had chosen a medium a
little less vulgar. This song contains much of MacDowells ability, but
of MacDowell’s artistic message it contains less than almost any other.
The second song of the group, ‘Sweetheart, Tell Me,’ is delicate and
perfect as a cut gem. But by all means MacDowell’s greatest song-group
is opus 47, ‘Eight Songs.’ The first of the group is the second of
the composer’s songs in popularity--‘The Robin Sings in the Apple
Tree.’ Nowhere has MacDowell been more felicitous in the delineation
of mood in tiny details; the number of treasures in this short song is
truly surprising. The ‘Midsummer Lullaby’ is a masterpiece. Again it
is the accuracy of mood-painting that strikes us, this time the hot
laziness of the full summer day. The third piece, the ‘Folksong,’ is in
MacDowell’s most vigorous and admirable style. ‘The West Wind Croons in
the Cedar Trees,’ ‘In the Woods,’ and ‘Through the Meadow’ are nature
songs of much distinction, showing grace, buoyancy, or sentiment, as
the case may be. But the finest song of the group, and the finest of
all MacDowell’s songs, is ‘The Sea,’ to William Dean Howells’s words.
Here we have in full strength the mood of tragic grandeur which has
been struck seldom in modern art-songs. This song, at least, has not
a touch of banality, not a note of mannerism, not a phrase which is
not at once great music and genuine poetry. Many of MacDowell’s songs
are perhaps too personal to be generally appreciated. Here is one song
which is utterly the product of his individual genius, but at the same
time a universal art-work.
Beyond MacDowell it is not easy to name a single American song-writer
who has any claim to a position among the song-writers of the world.
A few, especially in very recent years, have shown a marked talent
which may be expected to develop into something unusual. But, on the
whole, the American song output, though enormous, has been consistently
and painfully second-rate in character. This is not to belittle the
excellent work which certain Americans have accomplished in this
field; but their interest must necessarily be local. The American
song-writers are treated in detail in another volume,[31] so we need
here only mention them and the occasional treasures hidden in a mass
of work too facile and imitative. We should name, however, one of
their number who, with rather limited talents, has nevertheless made
a place for himself in the hearts of people in Europe as well as in
this country. This is Ethelbert Nevin (1862-1901), chiefly known among
pianists for his charming suites of short pieces. Nevin’s reputation
as a song-writer rests chiefly on one lyric, ‘The Rosary,’ which has
had a remarkable vogue, well deserved. It is difficult to find any
other of his songs which approaches this in emotional breadth. But out
of his numerous list there are a few which are well worth knowing.
‘Sleep, Little Tulip’ is a bit of a lullaby with a charming swing and
a delicate sentiment, given an additional interest by the lilt of the
accompaniment, which is managed with much skill. ‘A Song of Love’ is
above the average in musical vigor and ‘Orsola’s Song,’ to the French
words of Jean Richepin, imitates with success the Gallic method. _In
der Nacht_, to German words, is unusual for breadth and genuineness.
Nevin is too often a mere sentimentalist, too often imitative, too
often dependent on mannerisms and formulas. Some of these mannerisms,
however, are effective, especially that of writing a contrapuntal
melody in the accompaniments, as in the second half of ‘The Rosary.’
Though his invention was facile rather than profound, and his
musicianship slight, we cannot deny him praise for a certain delicacy
of touch, a certain artistic sense of fitness, which were too often
lacking in his American contemporaries.
It may not be out of place here to mention two song writers of modern
Italy who have shown individuality and attained wide popularity.
Francesco Paolo Tosti (born 1846), one time teacher of singing to the
court of England, has written a number of songs of varying quality. His
‘Goodbye Forever’ is none the worse for having been played on all the
hurdy-gurdies of London for twenty years past. The piece is as moving
as any folk-song and as delicate as a lyric by Jensen. In his later
songs, of which we may mention the well known ‘Serenade,’ he shows more
care than in the earlier ones and the result has been some exquisite
works, combining Italian grace and Italian fervor in equal proportions.
‘At Vespers,’ _Amore_, and _Mattinata_ are among his best. Luigi Denza
(born 1846) has attracted a unique position for himself in that one
of his lyrics, the famous ‘Funicula,’ has been circulated more widely
than any other piece of music of which there is record, having reached
a sale of some 500,000 copies. His songs, which are all simple and
addressed to the common people, are very numerous and include not a few
of great charm and artistic grace.
VI
In a later chapter we shall briefly study the wonderful song literature
which has been created by the Russian composers in the last half
century. From this list, however, we shall exclude two Russians who
were extremely productive song writers and are still the best known of
their land. For Rubinstein and Tschaikowsky, though they were born
in Russia, were Germans in their musical education and would have
little to do with the ‘neo-Russian’ group which created the national
art-song. They frequently attempt Russian ‘local color’ or oriental
exoticism, but in nearly every case their attempt is mannered and
self-conscious. Both suffered from over-production. To be quite plain,
they seem to lack artistic conscience. Rubinstein, in particular, wrote
a great quantity of songs, chiefly to German and Russian texts, which
no sincere artist should have dared to sign. They were addressed to
the drawing rooms and the tinsel concert halls of the time. Perhaps
they were actually the pot-boilers with which he sought to eke out
his income. Most of them should be passed over in charitable silence.
Tschaikowsky shows a somewhat higher level of artistic effort, but
too often he writes much noise and little music. His most pretentious
efforts are often built upon themes that would hardly fill a penny
whistle. However, he errs not so much through the cheapness of his
melodies, as does Rubinstein, as through lack of artistic taste and
control.
Anton Rubinstein (1830-1894), a concert pianist second only to
Liszt, perhaps suffered from being a public pet. Usually his songs
are insufferably sentimental, with a banality in almost every line
which counteracts the charm latent in the idea. His accompaniments
are usually thin and conventional. His romanticism is of the rag and
tatter type, which calls upon the stock modulations and phrases in a
routine way. One feels that the composer never _saw into_ his songs,
that he wrote three-fourths of his notes with his eyes shut. However,
he has done a few thoroughly fine songs. ‘The Asra,’ to Heine’s words,
is highly emotional and picturesque. Rubinstein’s setting of _Du bist
wie eine Blume_, with its delicate piano background, may perhaps be
ranked second to Liszt’s. There is a fine luxuriance about the song
‘Golden Rolls the Kura Beneath Me,’ while _Es blinkt der Tau_ and _Die
Waldhexe_ can command the respect of musicians. ‘Not with Angels’
is another song well worth knowing. Perhaps the lyrics which show
Rubinstein the musician in the best light are the ‘Persian Songs,’
which combine exotic coloring and great expressive beauty. Here,
probably, the list ends. The remainder of Rubinstein’s large output
suffers continually from thinness and banality. The ‘Modern Greek Love
Song’ is a touching melody of the simplest type and manages to escape
the commonplaceness which seems always about to engulf it. ‘Be Not so
Coy’ is graceful and musicianly, and ‘The Ravens’ contains considerable
vitality. But it would be useless to enlarge a list of songs, none of
which can be praised without some reservation. Rubinstein is one of
the composers whose reputation is fast on the wane. We can part with
him with light hearts, for what has replaced him is hardly second to
anything in all song literature.
Nor in Tschaikowsky’s case need we name the long list of songs that
are only somewhat good. He has a few that are thoroughly fine. The
children’s song entitled ‘Legend’ makes effective use of modal harmony
and remains a most touching and impressive lyric. ‘At the Ball’ is
a melody such as Tschaikowsky could create on occasion, utterly
aristocratic and artistic. Over this, as over few of his others, the
conventional has not cast its spell. ‘The Canary’ is an elaborate
effort at oriental color and is completely successful, the piano part
being especially fine. The piece is most effective in the concert
hall. Perhaps the best known of the Tschaikowsky songs is the setting
of Goethe’s famous lyric, _Nur wer die Sehnsucht kennt_. It may be
taken as a type of Tschaikowsky’s average. There is in it a certain
intensity of feeling, but it is all strained, over orchestrated, as it
were, and every now and then--banal. The long list of Tschaikowsky
songs includes a number which attempt to be impressively dramatic. They
usually make their effect at first hearing, but they fall to pieces
beneath scrutiny. They suggest too much brass and percussion and too
little--music.
Another Slav whose songs are mainly German is Moritz Moszkowski (born
1851). He wrote with less ambitious intent than Tschaikowsky and
achieved some charming results, as in his well known ‘Slumber Song.’
But the conventional hangs over his work, and his is one of the
reputations which is fast dying.
VII
The England of the last half of the nineteenth century has left us
little that we can treasure in song music. Easily the most popular
composer of the time was Sir Arthur Sullivan (1842-1900), who wrote
the music of the inimitable Gilbert and Sullivan operettas, which
are quite as perfect in their way as Mozart’s operas. If we were to
include in this list the songs from these pieces we should have a song
literature altogether remarkable and charming. But outside of his stage
works Sullivan was surprisingly cheap in his vocal music. It is hard
to explain the quantity of songs he put out which would hardly have
been a credit to a low-class music hall. They are for the most part
unbelievably sentimental and commonplace. A few of his less popular
songs, however (for example, the ‘Arabian Love Song’ and ‘O Fair Dove,
O Fond Dove’), showed an effort at artistic creation, and among the
popular ones we may find a handful, such as ‘Sweethearts,’ which are
tolerable. But in this description we have omitted one song which
is of quite a special calibre. This is the universally known ‘Lost
Chord.’ Perhaps the piece is unduly sentimental; perhaps the religious
sentiment of it is somewhat theatrical. But on the whole it is
certainly a fine and noble inspiration. It is not a bit the worse for
its huge popularity. The musical material is impressive in the extreme
and the handling is admirable.
Frederick Cowen (born 1852) was a prolific composer of songs (his
output numbers nearly 300) and, next to Sullivan, was the most
popular song-writer of his time. His talent was limited, being wholly
satisfactory only in work of a light and fanciful character. In this
field he well deserves his reputation. But his sentimental songs are in
the worst tradition of the time. His influence in this sort of music
has been huge, and he may almost be called the father, for England and
America, of the brood of sentimental pieces that pose as art-songs.
He has been a potent factor in the debasing of the taste of concert
audiences, and singers should know him chiefly as an admirable example
of what to avoid. Why the songs of this class are bad might perhaps be
told on paper. But a far better answer would be a comparison between
them and a few first-rate songs, say by Franz or Brahms. A little
familiarity with songs of the Cowen type will show how utterly they
fail to ring true to healthy sentiment.
Another popular song writer of Sullivan’s time was Stephen Adams
(1844-1911), whose real name was Michael Maybrick. The great
popularity of his songs of the sea, such as ‘Nancy Lee’ and ‘The
Midshipmite,’ or of his romantic songs, such as ‘In Days of Old,’ is
quite justified. They do not parade as art-songs (rather they might be
justly called folk-songs), but in their vigor and straightforwardness
they might serve as a model to many a precious song-writer with more
sentimentality than talent. A more recent song from this composer, ‘The
Holy City,’ combines to a remarkable degree the popular quality with
real musicianship.
The most genuine song-writer of this period was Arthur Goring-Thomas
(1851-1892), a man of delicate instincts and fine artistic sense
whose work has never received the recognition it deserves. His field
of expression was not wide, but within it he worked with a wealth of
imagination and refined sense of fitness which England at the time
could not match. He was the one true romanticist of his land. His
product is perhaps a trifle morbid, but, such as it is, it is free from
tricks and cheapness and is absolutely sincere. As a sentimentalist,
pure and simple, he is among the best. He was, indeed, one of the few
sentimentalists who could approach the tragic mood without losing
in his music the ring of sincerity. And as an artist of the voice
England for two centuries was not able to show his fellow. Some of his
most perfect work as a lyricist is shown in his cantata, ‘The Swan
and the Skylark,’ and in his operas. His solo songs and duets show
the refinement and polish which is not that of formal learning, but
represents the loving care of an intense artistic nature. Among the
best may be mentioned ‘Wind in the Trees,’ ‘Barbarine’s Song,’ ‘One
Morning, Oh, so Early,’ and the ‘Night Hymn at Sea.’
Before closing this chapter we should mention the romantic and colorful
work of Liza Lehman (born 1862). Her song cycles, especially those from
Omar Khayyám and Robert Louis Stevenson, are well known. The former, ‘A
Persian Garden,’ offers points of remarkable interest to the musician.
The music, which covers a considerable emotional range, is equally
felicitous in a number of various moods. The exotic color of the cycle
is managed with rare taste and effectiveness. The accompaniment is a
model of richness and appropriateness. We can safely say that this
writer is the only woman composer who has ever succeeded signally in
the tragic mood. But her peculiar contribution (for it can almost be
called a contribution) is the fine artistry with which she concentrates
great emotional feeling into the briefest time. (It is interesting
to note that she does it almost entirely by the use of the _da capo_
or ‘A-B-A’ form.) In the variety of styles at her command and in the
sureness of her artistic touch she is quite alone among woman composers
of the present day.
FOOTNOTES:
[29] See Musical Examples (Vol. XIII).
[30] See Musical Examples (Vol. XIII).
[31] Vol. IV, chapters XII-XIV.