Hungary. The music of Hungary with specific relation to orchestration calls for but brief comment beyond what has already been said in connection with Liszt on page 92 and with Goldmark on page 85. It will be remembered, however, that Liszt's Hungarian origin revealed itself not so much in an indigenous style of composition as in the propagation of those musical characteristics peculiar to his race. This adaptation and development of native dance tunes received plastic form in his "Hungarian Rhapsodies." Goldmark, on the other hand, cannot properly be regarded as an Hungarian composer at all. His music is German rather than Magyar, eclectic rather than local. He revels in the insidious atmosphere of the Far East. These two men are, however, the only composers of unusual eminence Hungary has produced. A small group of men may have remained more faithful to Magyar traditions than Liszt and Goldmark, but the results of their efforts are not significant. What these secondary composers did accomplish can be embraced in a few words. Before doing so, however, it might be well to settle upon the exact definition of "Hungarian" music. A quotation from Parry's "Art of Music" would appear to answer this question to the best advantage: "The original Hungarian music is extraordinarily characteristic in rhythm and vigorous in melody, but devoid of ornament. The recognized musicians of Hungary are gypsies, who are of Oriental descent, and are well known for their taste for finery and ornamentation all the world over; and in their hands Hungarian music has become the most ornamental thing of its kind that Europeans are acquainted with. The ornaments are perfectly meaningless, except as implying singular dexterity of manipulation and an extraordinary aptitude for purely superficial invention in the decorative direction. Hungarian music belongs to the illustration of making a special rise to the highest point in the middle or early in the latter part of a tune. With the Hungarians both the dance tunes and local tunes are so full of energetic intervals and rhythms that even when there are no crises the impression produced is often emotional."

Representative adherents to Magyar characteristics are Franz Erkel (1810), Mosonyi (1814), Albert Doppler (1821), his brother, Karl Doppler (1826), and Czibulka (1842). By admitting the cosmopolitans, Liszt (1811) and Goldmark (1830), this list of Hungarian composers is sufficiently complete for all present purposes. Erkel and the elder Doppler are looked upon as the leading national opera composers. Of the two, Erkel displayed the greater originality. Author of no less than nine operas, he reached his highest attainments in "Bank BÁn" and "Hunyadi LaszlÒ." The latter combines native traits with German and Italian operatic and orchestral traditions. Albert Doppler's foreign reputation is primarily due to his extensive concert tours as a flute virtuoso. His additional activity as a composer, however, gave him high standing in his own country. The present writer recalls an interesting conversation with his brother, Karl Doppler—late Kapellmeister at Stuttgart—in reference to the opera "ErzÉbeth" written jointly by Erkel and the two Dopplers. He described the work as "Gelegenheitsmusik"; such was the haste demanded by the attending circumstances, that the first act was put into rehearsal before the last act was completed, whereas Karl Doppler himself was still busy scoring (in Italian style) on the very day appointed for performance. Erkel's contemporary, Mosonyi or Michael Brandt, displayed considerable versatility in forms both small and large, whereas Czibulka represents a later generation of Hungarian composers. His position as bandmaster at Vienna gave him opportunity to cultivate his native attributes in the guise of dance music, in addition to which he wrote an operetta entitled "Pfingsten in Florenz."

It cannot be said that the collective efforts of these composers have developed a national style of orchestration. There is plenty of color and variety in their scoring, but the latent charm of their works is the result of melodic and rhythmic novelty, and not of instrumentation.

II.

Bohemia. In marked contrast to the above-mentioned limitation is the evolution of Bohemian orchestration, especially when one considers the fact that the pioneer, Smetana, was content to build upon Mozart's system of scoring, whereas already in the next generation his illustrious pupil, DvorÁk, developed that art to a point excelled by none. To mention these two men is synonymous for both the birth and the maturity of a native Bohemian school of composition. They both relied upon the Folk-song as a basis for operation, but DvorÁk advanced far beyond his master. A worthy successor to these two men has not yet appeared upon the horizon, even though DvorÁk's pupil, Joseph Suk, reveals latent possibilities for future prominence.[92]

Smetana (1824-1884) is a typical Czechish composer. Though he studied for a short time under Liszt and showed himself an enthusiastic follower of the "New Movement," his melody and rhythm are thoroughly Bohemian; moreover, his music, like his orchestration, occasionally reveals a certain naÏve touch of Mozart. Smetana wrote as many as eight operas, but the very first of these, "Die verkaufte Braut," not only gave him his foreign reputation, but has proved the best and most enduring of them all. The overture of this work, with its magnificent fughetta, forms an admirable concert number by itself. It might be incidentally added that this overture contains horn attacks of such difficulty as to have proved a stumbling block at public performance to no less an orchestra than the Royal band in Munich under Levi's magnetic baton some fifteen years ago. Smetana's affiliations with Liszt bore fruit in a worthy series of symphonic poems, whereas his native inheritance is emphasized in his national dances for pianoforte.

III.

DvorÁk[93] (1841-1904) shares with Saint-SaËns, Tschaikowsky and Richard Strauss the distinction of having done more for the advancement of modern orchestration than any other composer since Wagner. For his conservation of classic symphonic forms he might be ranked as an extreme classical-romanticist, but he has gone far beyond Brahms or Rheinberger in that his harmonic progressions are novel and daring, his orchestration varied and rich. Moreover, his music is conspicuously national in character and embodies the very essence of Bohemian melody and rhythm. But though DvorÁk's form may be orthodox, it is nevertheless subjected to differentiated transformations according to the particular branch of composition that is being treated. In this he resembles Saint-SaËns, and some interesting comparisons might be made between the latter's symphony in C minor and DvorÁk's "From the New World." It will be recalled that this successful experiment of Saint-SaËns allows of but two grand structural divisions, which, however, reveal the outlines of the traditional four movements. Organic unity is obtained by reintroducing important subject-matter from the first part of the work into the second. Neither Saint-SaËns nor DvorÁk make use of a dramatic scheme like Berlioz's "Symphonie fantastique" with its l'idÉe fixe, but as Krehbiel, the eminent New York critic, states it: "DvorÁk in his symphony entitled "From the New World," in which he has striven to give expression to the American spirit, quotes the first period of his principal subject in all subsequent movements, and then sententiously recapitulates the principal themes of the first, second and third movements in the finale; and this without a sign of the dramatic purpose confessed by Berlioz."

DvorÁk's chamber music presents still another phase of the subtle manner in which he retains and yet remodels the outlines of classic form. In regard to musical contents, the essence of national melody and rhythm is ever in evidence, but whereas in their original shape these folk-tunes are frequently commonplace and even vulgar, DvorÁk's brilliant imagination transforms them into worthy conceptions that are both dignified and noble. These he adorns with vivacious yet refined orchestration.

Yet another illustration of DvorÁk's versatility is displayed in the "Spectre's Bride," which embraces in a felicitous manner the supernatural element peculiar to the works of Spohr and Weber.

As has been already intimated, the paramount accomplishment of this modern luminary was his colossal development of orchestral resources. One can point to his symphonies as models for brilliant scoring. The "Spectre's Bride," the Stabat Mater, the Requiem abound in beautiful combinations. The orchestration is warm and rich[94] without being overburdened, interesting and varied, yet appropriate and consistent. Minor details receive careful attention. The string writing is clear and bright,[95] whereas in the handling of the wood-wind instruments DvorÁk shares with Brahms the tendency to fall back upon Schubert's methods.[96]

One by one our great contemporary masters are passing away. Be it hoped that at a not far distant day Bohemia may again send forth a missionary to our climes worthy of rank with DvorÁk!

SCANDINAVIA AND RUSSIA.
IV.

Scandinavia. Analogous to the development during the nineteenth century of Hungarian and Bohemian folk-tunes is that of the Scandinavian countries. Just as Germany can point to her Lied and France to her chanson as the basis for scientific secular music on the Continent, so is the recognition of the younger musical countries dependent upon the distinctive features of their native melodies. America presents a unique exception to this rule. For variety and expression, Norwegian and Swedish folk-tunes compare favorably with those of Russia. A conspicuous characteristic of early Scandinavian folk-tunes is the progression to the minor seventh of the scale through its fifth.

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Again, many peculiarities popularly regarded as Grieg's exclusive property constitute in reality the fundamental characteristics of the original source from which he has drawn his inspiration. The national music of all three countries, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, embodies shortness of theme, reiteration of the same interval, shifting tonality, alliance of binary and ternary rhythm, and the plaintive fall of the leading tone to the dominant. To Denmark belongs the honor of having produced the pioneer exponent of native melodies and native characteristics—Gade. His achievements have since been eclipsed by Norway's sturdy representative—Grieg. In the earlier part of the century several Swedish composers made a creditable showing, but in recent years Norway seems to have established her ascendency. After Gade, the only Danish composer who has attracted especial attention beyond the boundaries of his own lands is Enna. Few modern Swedish composers have risen conspicuously above their predecessors, Lindblad, HallstrÖm and SÖdermann. Norway, on the other hand, possesses not only Grieg, but Svendsen and Sinding as well. The racial affinity disclosed by the music of all these composers makes possible a collective review of their achievements in chronological order.

V.

Already in the initial Swedish productions are national tendencies to be found. Subject-matter, coloring, harmonic and rhythmic structure all reveal the same general source. Lindblad (1801) became known as the teacher of Jenny Lind and also as a composer of songs. His melody and harmony are original and characteristic. His more ambitious works include a violin sonata and a symphony; the latter was performed at a Gewandhaus concert. HallstrÖm (1826), in addition to national songs, wrote seven operas as well as a memorable Idyl for soli, chorus and orchestra entitled "Die Blumen." Less widely known is the name of SÖdermann (1832); nevertheless his efforts are ambitious and comprise an operetta, a mass, an overture for orchestra, and incidental music to the "Jungfrau von Orleans." He owes his German reputation largely to a composition for four female voices, called "BrÖllop," which went the rounds of that country and was popular in its day. At least passing reference is at this point due to Normann (1831) in consequence of the important services he rendered to his country as an orchestral conductor.

Though Gade (1817-1890) stands as the pioneer of Scandinavian composers and as chief representative of Denmark, his works do not present unadulterated indigenous characteristics. The influence of Mendelssohn as well as of Schumann is plainly in evidence; consequently he is classified on page 77 among the direct followers of romanticism. The substance of Gade's music suggests Northern coloring and surroundings, but the presence of native melody, harmony and rhythm is less conspicuous. He adhered to the symmetry of sonata form, though his thematic development is free and his musical treatment unfettered. Gade first became known through the overture "NachklÄnge aus Ossian" and the first symphony in C minor. The "Crusaders" still belongs to the standard cantatas of the present day. He had early been a careful student of representative scores, and developed high efficiency in the art of orchestration. Appreciation of the possibilities as well as of the limitations of each instrument, successful application of "local coloring," and a ready pen stamp the pages of his numerous symphonies and orchestrally accompanied choral works.

Turning to the representatives of Norway belonging to a later generation than Gade's, one naturally recalls the name of Grieg. Nevertheless Svendsen (1840) was born three years before Grieg, and holds a position of eminence only secondary to that of his Danish predecessor or of his Norwegian contemporary. A violinist as well as a composer, he possesses a gift for spontaneous and flowing melody. His music rests on a sound harmonic basis, is cleverly developed and skilfully orchestrated. It reveals national coloring though not to excess, and reflects the mind of a cosmopolitan musician. Svendsen's sphere of creative activity embraces various orchestral works, besides chamber music and smaller pieces. Prominent among these are the four Norwegian rhapsodies, and he has been particularly happy in arranging many Norwegian, Swedish and Icelandic melodies for small orchestra.

Grieg (1843) represents one of the few recent composers who have not been conspicuously influenced by ultra-modern tendencies beyond appreciation for the necessary alliance of poetry and music. The exact value of his attainments is not easy to define. D.G. Mason has been rather hard on him in his thoughtful essay entitled "From Grieg to Brahms," and in Germany there is also a disposition to regard much of his music as superficial. None the less, Grieg's style has a charm about it that is irresistible, and this charm goes far to silence the grumblings of critics more scientifically and profoundly trained than he. But it is precisely this naÏve spontaneity, this guileless yet poetic touch, this flow of fancy emanating straight from the heart that endears his music to the more appreciative and emotional amateur. Though a pupil of the Leipzig Conservatory, Grieg early took a firm stand against the lukewarm Scandinavianism of Gade, and bestirred himself in a search for musical utterance that should present the indigenous characteristics of his own people in the most favorable light. His solution of this problem brought into existence a distinct Northern school of composition. As previously suggested, many peculiarities of his music are but the adaptation of time-honored Scandinavian characteristics. But though the strength of his works rests upon the development of Danish, Norwegian and Swedish Volkslieder, he has imbued these with an element of poetic coloring, of tender melancholy, of mystery, of quaint humor, of grotesqueness even to eccentricity that are all his own. Grieg's style is frequently lacking in breadth, nor does he possess the powers of a great orchestral composer. Nevertheless, his writing for strings alone is of surpassing beauty, with its multiple division of parts, its polyphonic voice-leading, and its impassioned deployment of violas and violoncellos. When at his best, Grieg handles his larger orchestral forces with similar rare skill. The orchestration of BjÖrnsen's unfinished drama "Olaf Trygvason" and that of the music to Ibsen's "Peer Gynt," conceived as a melodramatic scene-painting, is tender, fervent, weird, brilliant, stormy, popular, effective. Notwithstanding all that has been said, Grieg stands as one of the most original and healthy composers of the nineteenth century.[97]

Of the younger Norwegian composers, Sinding (1856) has given evidence of a fertile imagination that finds expression in some pleasing chamber music and other works in small form. To judge from his popular "FrÜhlingsrauschen," he must be counted among the admirers of Wagner. His Danish contemporary, August Enna (1860), has devoted himself to a more ambitious form of composition. His opera "Heksen" was brought out at Copenhagen in 1892, and at Berlin in the ensuing year. Two further operas of recognized merit have emanated from his pen—"Cleopatra" and "Aucassin og Nicolette."[98] The Scandinavians are not conspicuously dramatic, but Enna's grandfather was an Italian, which may account for the grandson's histrionic talent. There are other names worthy of mention,[99] such as Tor Aulin and Wilhelm Stennhammer[100] of Sweden; up to the present moment, however, none have proved worthy to be ranked with the greatest of Scandinavian composers—Grieg.

VI.

Russia. Among the phenomena of the nineteenth century must be reckoned the wonderful artistic evolutions in Russia and in America. Of the two countries, Russia has thus far forged ahead by reason of her indigenous melodic wealth, whereas America has no similar source to draw from. Again, the melancholy and semi-barbaric coloring of Russian folk-tunes appeals more readily to the world at large than do the assuredly more healthy though somewhat eclectic offerings of the young American school. None the less, the artistic future of the latter country is to be regarded in the most optimistic light, and this certainly will be subsequently enlarged upon under its proper heading.

Russian folk-songs embody certain characteristics that are likewise at the root of Scandinavian folk-songs. In their natural and unadorned state they suggest the rhythmic freedom of Scandinavia, and their dance forms are similarly wild and irresistible. Further characteristics that are more distinctly Russian consist of odd modulations, of plaintive minor cadences, of harmonies resolving abruptly into the unison, and of the frequent recurrence of a principal theme alternating with various reiterated phrases. A possible reminiscence of the Lydian and Dorian modes of ancient Greece might also be suggested. This is the basis upon which an epoch-making school of highly-seasoned dramatic and orchestral music has been reared.

Cultivated Russian music may be properly divided into three distinctive groups. First came the old lyric-school of Glinka, Dargomizski and Seroff, followed by the neo-Russian school which includes Dargomizski in his maturity, together with Borodin, Cesar Cui, Balakireff, Mussorgski, Rimski-Korsakoff, and their associates. A third classification is required for Rubinstein and Tschaikowsky in consequence of their less national than cosmopolitan attributes. It is by no means intended to convey the idea that Tschaikowsky was not intensely Russian, but his broad education and his intellectual classicism distinguish him from his compatriots. Rubinstein, on the other hand, was more a Teutonic classical-romanticist than a Slavonic composer. This exposition will therefore first treat of the typically native composers, leaving Rubinstein and the unrivalled Tschaikowsky for the end.

VII.

Glinka (1803-1857) accomplished for his country what Smetana and Gade did for theirs. A further unique comparison can be made in that the labors of these three men in each case paved the way for subsequent herculean development in the hands of one conspicuous successor of even greater talent—respectively DvorÁk, Grieg, Tschaikowsky. Although Glinka, like Gade, devoted himself to the propagation of national melodies, it is the local coloring rather than subject-matter that gives his music a character of its own. In this he again resembles Gade. His very first opera "Life for the Czar" proved a triumphant success, and, together with its successor "Ruslan and Ludmilla," gave Glinka the right to be called the first great opera composer of Russia. His music may not be especially dramatic, but is significant for having elevated and perpetuated popular airs, which are clothed in rich harmonies and surrounded by a distinctly Russian atmosphere. The orchestration calls for but little comment excepting that it is clever and at times even brilliant. Glinka's position in musical history has been accurately described by Riemann when he says: "Glinka is the Berlioz of the Russians, the man who attempted something new with definite meaning; but to his countrymen he is still more, namely, the creator of a national musical tendency striving toward independence."

Dargomizski (1813), second representative of the old lyric-school and eventually a convert to the new Russian movement, stands as a noteworthy example for gradual artistic expansion. Clinging at first to the forms prevalent in France and in Italy, he gradually came to attach greater importance to recitative, and finally went even too far. This extreme as to absence of melody as well as of structural form reached its culmination in his posthumous opera "The Marble Guest," which has since been most effectively orchestrated by Rimski-Korsakoff. The work is advanced both in thought and treatment, and may be regarded as the initiatory modern Russian opera. Two of Dargomizski's minor orchestral compositions, the "Finnish Fantasia" and the "Cossack Dance," acquired considerable popularity. Dargomizski is particularly to be commended for his attitude as a patron of the young Russian enthusiasts whose tendencies were inclined toward Berlioz, Schumann, Liszt and Wagner.

Serow (1820)—usually spelt Seroff in the English language—belongs properly to the earlier school, although he was a zealous disciple of Wagner, and, like him, prepared his own librettos. The style of his music is such as to carry us almost imperceptibly across the short bridge joining the first and second groups of Russian composers.

VIII.

As just stated, the second group of young composers found a champion in their senior, Dargomizski. The tenets of the "New Russian Movement" are closely allied to those of the "New German Movement." The programmatic and philosophical theories of Berlioz and Liszt applied to the dramatic orchestra, and the unreserved adaptation of Wagner's speech-singing and instrumentation form the basis for their creed. On the other hand, they demand that all "program-music" shall be of such intrinsic merit as to withstand the test of being deprived of its program. Prominent among these innovators was Borodin (1834). His originality displayed itself conspicuously in independent orchestral music as exemplified by his two symphonies. The style is attractive and polished, whereas a wealth of orchestral effects and instrumental tone-color is at his command. Further proof of his fertility is revealed in the opera "FÜrst Igor," in the symphonic poem "Mittelasien," and in his chamber music. Cesar Cui (1835) holds a position of prominence only secondary to that of Rubinstein and Tschaikowsky. He was an ardent literary advocate for Berlioz, Schumann and Liszt, whereas his vocal writing is in reality the exposition of a style akin to the requirements of French prosody. Balakireff (1836) and Mussorgski (1839) also belong to this second group of Russian composers. The former has been called the direct successor of Glinka. The compositions of the latter display daring originality and a gift for charming melody, although the harmonization is not always skilful. Nevertheless, both these men are outranked by Rimski-Korsakoff (1844), whose eminence is fully equal to that of Borodin and Cesar Cui. His works include several remarkable symphonies, three operas, chamber music and salon pieces. Special attention should be called to the program-symphony "Antar" and to a legend for orchestra, "Sadko." One of the youngest exponents of combined melodic and declamatory styles is Arensky (1862), and the interest recently excited by the third symphony in C minor of Glazounoff (1865) entitles him also to recognition under this heading.

This discussion may evoke the criticism that thus far too little has been said about orchestration proper and nothing whatever about the details of instrumentation. As to this, however, it must be remembered that modern Russian orchestration owes its fundamental characteristics to only one man—Tschaikowsky; consequently, the examination of these characteristics has been reserved for discussion in connection with his titanic achievements. All contemporary and sequent orchestral treatment in the hands of his countrymen is but the reflection of Tschaikowsky's style combined with the further progressive methods of German and French orchestration. It is the indirect influence these other composers have exercised upon the art of orchestration rather than their actual instrumentation that has needed elucidation.

IX.

For convenience, Rubinstein and Tschaikowsky have been classed together as representing a third group of Russian composers. Theoretically they possess nothing in common other than their cosmopolitan proclivities.

Rubinstein (1830-1894), regarded in the light of a Russian composer, cannot be compared with Glinka as an operatic writer or with Tschaikowsky as an orchestrator. Regarded as a classical-romanticist, he must be included in the list of composers following traditional forms. What is more, he was an extremist in his antagonism to the innovations of the New German Movement. This hostility exerted a baneful influence upon his instrumentation. His intentions were high, but the results of uneven value. His music reveals a search after fulness of contents, passionate strength, and a certain predilection for the peculiar. Euphony and rounded form are less pronounced, though occasional evidence of delicacy and even of tenderness is not lacking. Rubinstein cannot be eulogized as a dramatic writer, although "Feramors" is a pleasing lyric opera, and the Biblical stage-play "Sulamith" presents a poetic idyl imbued with Eastern color. Interesting is the embodiment of seven movements in the "Ocean Symphony," a work that holds high rank in musical literature. In string writing, Rubinstein revealed fine appreciation of tone-color. The instruments are handled with rare skill and that quite especially in his chamber music. But in spite of a not infrequent display of superb power, his orchestration, on the whole, was hampered by the narrow prejudice which limited his horizon.

The history of Slavonic music up to the present day will be concluded with the following brief remarks concerning Tschaikowsky[101] (1840-1893). Though he is mentioned last, one must not forget that his activity covers the same period as that of the originators of the neo-Russian school.

The composite of his high-strung and intensely Æsthetic nature may be summed up by saying that at heart he was in sympathy with Liszt; his structural form rests upon the intellectuality of classicism; his conceptions emanated from Muscovite melodies but are stamped with the insignia of genius all his own; his style is essentially lyrical, and betrays the delicacy and refinement of a cultured Russian. What is more, there are momentary suggestions even of coyness that are again strikingly contrasted by a certain barbaric element worthy of a barely-civilized Cossack.

The peculiar fascination exerted by his music may be traced first and foremost to its dominating melancholy character, although this plaintive strain is again set off by a certain vigor, which Henderson calls "the outcome of a certain grim determination always present in the Russian heart." It has also been described by Dannreuther as "fiery exultation on a basis of languid melancholy." The means which Tschaikowsky found to express himself in a language of profound pathos embodied the free use of sombre chromatic harmony, of minor modes, and above all of weird and gloomy orchestration.[102] The general outlines of Tschaikowsky's music embrace melodic subtleties, bold modulations, florid figuration, strongly marked rhythm and cadences peculiar to his own land, huge dimensions, fantastic portrayal, broad dignity of utterance, and magnificent orchestral effects. The embodiment of native folk-music in no way interferes with his own intense originality and genuine spontaneity.

One of the most astounding features in Tschaikowsky's scoring is the extreme modern effect secured from virtually the same orchestra of moderate size that Beethoven employed. To the uninitiated auditor, the wealth and variety of tone-color produced would appear to require a mighty aggregation of instruments; but the "Symphonie pathÉtique," for example, makes requisition for no more instruments than those used in Beethoven's grandest symphonies, excepting the addition of a bass-tuba.[103] As for an increased number of strings, the increase remains in force for modern performances of the classics as well. In regard to obtaining what has been called "a gloomy eloquence of instrumentation," this is effected by drawing upon the deeper accents of the orchestra.[104] Tschaikowsky employed such combinations as horns and bassoons alone; English horn, bassoons and violas; the lower tones of flutes and clarinets also accompanied by violas; the unison of English horn with low strings as in the cantabile of the overture-fantasy, "Hamlet,"—a combination to which Henderson calls attention in his admirable little book on the orchestra. (This work, by the way, is skilfully written for the delectation of cultivated amateurs.) Other important contributors to Tschaikowsky's subdued coloring are the clarinets in their lower range and the bassoons in their upper range.[105] The best exemplification of orchestration essentially mournful in character is discovered in his last great work—the "Symphonie pathÉtique" already referred to. On the other hand, a magnificent specimen of forceful writing is presented in the final movement of particularly the C major symphony.

Recent development in Russia of orchestral resources is bearing delectable fruit; but without Tschaikowsky to point the way, this would not have been possible. He still reigns supreme as the greatest interpreter of Slavonic ideals. Tschaikowsky in Greater Russia, Grieg in Scandinavia, DvorÁk in Bohemia, Saint-SaËns in France, Wagner and Richard Strauss in Germany,—these are the men of the nineteenth century who have caused the art of orchestration to acquire distinctively national characteristics suited to the needs of differentiated national music. In return, composers of all countries are seizing upon every possible device introduced by these innovators, and the twentieth century gives promise of results cosmopolitan in nature and superb beyond description.

ENGLAND AND AMERICA.
X.

England. Although the recent growth of Russian music is of vast significance, neither have the Anglo-Saxons been idle. England can also point to a long series of sterling composers belonging to the nineteenth century. Among the representative musicians who have helped to develop a native style of composition and orchestration should be mentioned Balfe, Macfarren, Bennett, Barnby, Sullivan, Bridge, Mackenzie, Parry, Cowen, Stanford.

At the head of this sturdy list stands Balfe (1808), whose continuous application to operatic forms presents an exception to the more varied labors of most English composers. Neither the substance-matter nor the instrumentation of his works merits the distinction of having furthered the cause of indigenous English music. The style is essentially Italian. Balfe possessed fluency of expression and displayed aptitude for pleasing melody. Depth and power were not among his attributes.

An entirely different atmosphere pervades the numerous productions of Sir George Macfarren (1813). This eminent pioneer of nineteenth century English music had the honor of being born in the same year with Wagner. The cosmopolitan range of his compositions is noteworthy, and his tireless activity in the face of an affliction that eventually ended in entire blindness entitles him to unstinted praise. His works are among the most important contributions to the literature of English music, covering as they do every branch of music from opera, oratorio and cantata to symphony, chamber music and sacred pieces.

The reader will remember that on page 77 of Chapter IX, particular mention was made of Sterndale Bennett (1816), in view of his association with Mendelssohn and Schumann. The pith of the remarks embodied in that paragraph will, however, bear repetition, owing to the significance attached to Bennett's influence upon modern English music. The acknowledged heir of Purcell, he clothed his individuality in the language promulgated by the early Romanticists; but though his works bear the undeniable impress of Mendelssohnian characteristics, they are none the less original and of enduring worth. His field of activity as a composer was extensive. Outside of England, his oratorio "The Woman of Samaria" is, perhaps, the best known of his various choral works, symphonies and concertos. The high regard in which he is held by his countrymen reveals itself in his title of "Founder of a New English School."

To mention Barnby (1838) in these pages may appear somewhat out of place. Sacred music is the line in which he particularly distinguished himself. In addition to writing magnificent hymns and anthems, he developed his best gifts in such works as his psalm "The Lord is King." Nevertheless, it will be noticed that from a chronological standpoint Barnby heads the list of the more recent English exponents of progressive ideas, and his advanced convictions entitle him to recognition in this discussion if for no other reason than for his zeal and perseverance in having given in London two concert performances of "Parsifal" as early as in 1884. The date of this achievement is significant when one considers that the initial dramatic performance of "Parsifal" at Bayreuth had taken place but two years before.

The most widely known English composer of the nineteenth century is, of course, Sullivan (1842). This renown has been won by virtue of a unique talent for writing comic operas that are gems of the first water. On the other hand, Sullivan has again and again revealed his latent powers for composition in serious vein. Had he elected to consecrate himself to the nobler form of art, he might have become the greatest of all English composers. As it is, he has done much for the cause of Anglicized music and especially of Anglicized orchestration. The author of no less than fifteen operettas that are famed in England, America, and to a lesser degree in Continental Europe, he has clothed these works in charming orchestral garment. The instrumental combinations at his command were small, but he was never at loss how to use them to best advantage. It was his peculiar custom to postpone the orchestral scoring until all modifications as suggested by preliminary rehearsals had been decided upon. Taking the "Mikado" as a favorable example, it is seen that the local coloring demanded by the setting depends chiefly upon the orchestra. The quaint opening chorus for men at the very beginning of the operetta proves the truth of this statement. Sullivan based his methods of instrumentation upon those of Mozart, but occasionally copied Gounod and even Berlioz. When, however, Sullivan employs larger orchestral forces, his musicianship, dramatic power and command of resource seem to expand in proportion. Notable illustrations of original and effective scoring are to be found in his representative oratorios and above all in his grand opera "Ivanhoe."

John Bridge (1844) displays sound scholarship in a respectable list of sacred music, cantatas and orchestral works, but his attainments cannot be compared with those of Mackenzie (1847). The latter is first and foremost an orchestral writer, in fact one might say that his conceptions are wholly orchestral. His is the realm of realism rather than of idealism. His style reveals no great depth or pathos. There is a mixture of Mendelssohnian and Wagnerian externals. His melody has been styled angular; his harmonic structure is inefficient, and his rhythm monotonous. Mackenzie's orchestration, however, is unusual. Its many excellences afford a striking contrast to the mediocrity of subject-matter. It is powerful and effective, allowing also commendable freedom to the wood-wind. Some interesting passages for flute and oboe in combination with low clarinet arpeggio effects are contained in the cantata "The Story of Sayid." Among Mackenzie's most notable achievements should be mentioned two operas, two Scotch rhapsodies, and his magnum opus, a dramatic oratorio entitled "The Rose of Sharon."

There is a double interest in examining the musical compositions of Charles Hubert Parry (1848) in consequence of his having enriched the world with a scholarly and broad-minded work entitled "The Evolution of the Art of Music." This standard book has been quoted from more than once in the course of these pages. Parry has tried his hand at all forms of composition, including chamber music, symphonies and oratorios. There is a natural hesitation to pass individual judgment on these works, so the criticism of two contemporary Englishmen will be referred to instead. These two are Willeby and Stanford. In general terms, Willeby speaks of Parry as a man of wide experience and absolute sincerity, and as one "devoted to liberation." He then goes on to say that Parry's works show traces of Beethoven, especially of Brahms, somewhat of HÄndel and Mendelssohn, whereas his earlier "Prometheus Unbound" is conceived in the "Tristan" style; but the "human" element is lacking. The most complex methods are employed to attain the desired results. The obvious avoidance of natural cadences is carried to an extreme. The melodies are stately and self-possessed but become monotonous. So much for Parry's style. As to his orchestration, the opinion of Dr. Stanford is presumably authoritative and is appended verbatim: "His orchestral sense is by no means his most highly developed sense, for while there is no lack of sonority in his scoring, there is not infrequently all too little of 'fancy.' What leanings he has in this art are certainly more toward Wagner than Berlioz, and sometimes the incongruity of Wagner in the orchestra and Brahms in the music is by no means compensated for by what there is of Parry in both."[106]

Cowen (1852) stands as one of the representative English exponents of both absolute and programmatic symphonic writing. Of his five characteristic symphonies, special reference is due to the "Scandinavian," No. 3, the "Welsh," No. 4, and the one in F, No. 5. The fact that this later symphony, No. 5, contains no programmatic idea, leads to some conjecture as to what Cowen's motive was in returning to the conservatism of pure and abstract music. This work embodies considerable depth of sentiment, sombre orchestral coloring, and a possible touch of Chopin. Cowen has written several operas, but special significance is attached to his choral work "The Sleeping Beauty," in that it incorporates Wagner's principle of representative themes together with their skilful thematic development. The orchestra plays an exceedingly important rÔle, even to the occasional detriment of the vocal parts.

Having listened to what Stanford had to say about Parry, let us see what Stanford's music has to say for its author. Here again one discovers the accomplished scholar rather than the artistic dreamer. Stanford (1852) has proved himself an eminent conductor and professor, but as composer, his emotional capacity is evidently limited, and his music lacks the very essentials of ideal love and impassioned sentiment so conspicuous, for example, in FÉlicien David's ardent conceptions. Compare the glowing colors in David's "Lalla Rookh" with those in Stanford's opera "The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan." The latter does, indeed, suggest "local" color, but there is no evidence of sensuous Eastern charm. Stanford's right to share with Cowen the rank of representative English symphonist is undisputed. His fertile pen has produced an honorable series of orchestral works that include a festival overture and four symphonies. Prominent among these is the "Irish Symphony," which again reveals a striving after characteristic portrayal. Willeby also makes reference to this in the following terms: "Here, for the obtainment of local color, he has called to his aid all kinds of melodies and 'modes.' The 'Aeolian' mode transposed, which consists of the scale having its semitonic intervals between the second and third, and fifth and sixth degrees, and the 'Mixolydian,' with its semitones between the third and fourth, and sixth and seventh degrees, are both extensively used."[107]

During the last few years a new star has risen on the British horizon, one that promises to become a permanency,—Edward Elgar (1851). His talent is conspicuous, and he is fast winning his way through sheer merit. Henderson goes so far as to write of him as "the most promising of modern composers," though this is a matter of opinion. At all events, Elgar stands out in marked contrast to his more self-restrained countrymen in that he dares to break through the barriers of British good form by employing a language of emotional eloquence and dramatic intensity. His handling of vocal forces does not by any means discard the time-honored doctrines of Bach and HÄndel so tenaciously adhered to in England, but he combines classic polyphony with modern expedients of unfettered chromatic harmony and throbbing orchestration. His "Dream of Gerontius" and his "The Apostles" should convince his compatriots that heretofore they have been content to compose in a manner all too sedate and unemotional. Bennett founded a "new school" of English music in the early part of the nineteenth century. It may be that the time has now come for a second "new school" which shall meet the requirements of the twentieth century.[108]

In undertaking to set forth the present conditions of American musical art it is realized that little can be said beyond that with which professional American musicians are already perfectly familiar. But the future of indigenous American music gives promise of a significance so wide that the reader will concede the indispensability of embodying in this book at least a bird's-eye view of an evolution that is destined to lead to glorious results. Moreover, to refrain from repeating well-known facts for fear of presenting trite material would indeed appear as an inexcusable and glaring omission should these pages ever come into the hands of a foreigner.

In order to cover the entire ground, it would be necessary to touch upon the rather doubtful experiments of our forefathers during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries:—to examine into the tardy emancipation of religious music from the dogmatic fetters of Puritanism, to follow the gradual development of American hymn-tunes, and to ferret out the initial encroachments of beneficent Teutonic influence. Such preliminaries may here be dispensed with. America has no native folk-tunes. The experiments of our illustrious guest, DvorÁk, to adapt so-called negro melodies as the basis for future operation are certainly masterly,—nevertheless illogical. MacDowell's poetic "Indian Suite" draws upon still another source for the same purpose. Racial characteristics and local coloring are indeed suggested,—but the desired objective is not attained. Of similar purport are the exhaustive researches of Farwell. His deductions are intensely interesting, frequently picturesque,—but again prove that the primitive tunes of the American Indian do not meet the requirements for a national form of melody. It is evident, therefore, that American composers are obliged to rely upon their own individual efforts. What is more, no marked individuality displayed itself before the nineteenth century. Anyone desiring detailed information pertaining to the infancy of American music may be referred to Ritter's book on that subject as well as to Louis C. Elson's "History of American Music." Furthermore, since the main theme of this discussion is orchestration, it will not be possible to more than touch upon the sterling achievements of the already large list of nineteenth and twentieth century composers who are so worthily furthering the artistic cause of their country. Detailed biographies of these men are also to be found in Elson's work as well as in Rupert Hughes' "Contemporary American Composers."

During the nineteenth century America produced no less than some hundred native born composers, conductors, performers and pedagogues who are worthy of unstinted praise and enduring recognition. It is, however, an extremely difficult matter to single out those who may be looked upon as America's representative writers for the orchestra. At the present moment one might suggest the names of six men who have been exceptionally fortunate in being granted the opportunity of showing the world what they can do. These fortunate ones are Paine, Buck, Foote, Chadwick, MacDowell, Parker, of whom no less than four are claimed by New England. The word "fortunate" is used advisedly, for without detracting in the least from the hard-earned and well-merited laurels of these conspicuously successful composers, many another American could be pointed to who even now is worthy of being classed in the first rank and who would undoubtedly rise to epoch-making greatness were the opportunity but granted him. Selecting a few names merely at random, the present writer has had occasion to peruse the orchestral pages of such men as Father Bonvin (a Jesuit priest of Canesius College, Buffalo, N.Y.) and Professor Leo R. Lewis of Tufts College,—the breadth and power of whose scoring would command wide-spread admiration were the authors natives and residents of Continental Europe. Further proof of native independence and strength is revealed in the deplorably rare opportunities of listening to the orchestral works of our younger aspirants such as F. Converse, H.H. Huss, H.K. Hadley, Rubin Goldmark, not to mention the scholarly productions of the older and reputed leaders of the country such as Gilchrist, F.G. Gleason, Foerster, Beck, E.S. Kelley, Schoenefeld, Zeck.

No country in the world makes such unreasonable demands upon the range of professional capacity as does America when begrudgingly bestowing her patronage upon her musicians. To be an "all-round" musician one is supposed to be a proficient organ and pianoforte player, a vocal teacher, a trainer of boy choirs, of solo quartets, of denominational church choir singing, and a choral as well as an orchestral conductor; one is supposed to be familiar with all matters pertaining to church services, to have some knowledge of orchestral stringed instruments, to be versed in subtleties theoretical and pedagogical, to have business executive ability, and to be—incidentally—a composer! It is therefore not easy to classify our contemporary musicians into distinctive branches of activity. John Knowles Paine, for example, is first and foremost the pioneer of America's great composers. On the other hand, were he to be deprived of this tribute, there would still remain divers possible classifications under the headings of organist, of pioneer educator, of theorist, lecturer, and teacher. Consequently, the following group must, like that of the French composers in Chapter XII, be accepted with considerable reserve; for, as in that chapter, the different composers are but arbitrarily classified under the particular branch in which they would appear to have excelled. It is also to be understood that where no statement to the contrary is made, the composer under discussion is a native born American.

XII.

(1) Pioneers and Promoters. Prominent among our indefatigable workers of the nineteenth century born prior to 1850 are: Lowell Mason, Bristow, Dr. William Mason, Gottschalk, C.C. Converse, Dr. L. Damrosch, Paine, B.J. Lang, Emery.

Lowell Mason (1792-1872) was for many years the president of the HÄndel and Haydn Society of Boston, where he founded an academy of music, and displayed untiring activity in initiating conferences of music teachers and in the cause of American musical art in general. Bristow (1825) deserves mention not only for his activity as a pianist, teacher, and conductor, but also for his ambitions as a composer in large forms. These works include two symphonies, two oratorios "Daniel" and "St. John," and an opera "Rip van Winkle." Dr. William Mason (1829) proved himself worthy of the heritage entrusted to him by his father, Lowell Mason, and is looked upon as one of the chief factors in the evolution of American music. His compositions, though clever, are conservative and somewhat pedantic, but his influence as an educator cannot be overestimated. Gottschalk (1829) devoted his exceptional talents as a concert pianist largely to the dissemination of his own salon music, which is brilliant though sentimental, being, moreover, unquestionably dominated by Spanish characteristics. Converse (1832) is recognized as a typical American and has won esteem as the author of a large number of hymn-tunes. Dr. Leopold Damrosch (1832) was among the earlier Germans who adopted the United States as their home. He left his indelible impress upon the artistic life of New York City and bequeathed the fruits of his labors to his sons, Walter and Frank, who have piously preserved and extended them. Paine and B.J. Lang are mentioned in this connection by virtue of their indomitable perseverance in behalf of improved musical conditions in the earlier period of their respective careers when the general attitude of the American public toward true musical art was even worse than it is at present. Emery (1841) owed his reputation originally to his talents as a pianist, but his primer of harmony has since made his name a familiar one in almost every household.

This list may rightfully include the name of a more recent benefactor of native composition—the pianist, Sherwood (1854), who was one of the first to insist that the American public should become acquainted with the slighted creative talents of her artistic sons. He put this noble resolve to practical test by devoting large portions of his programs to the compositions of his compatriots, and was able to command the attention and respect of his audiences not alone by his sterling technique and refined interpretation but by his charming personality as well.

Many other names such as Carl Zerrahn and Theodore Thomas could be added here. They have, however, been classified under their more pronounced specialities.

(2) Master of Orchestration. Paine (1839). As Hughes fitly expresses it, Paine is the venerable dean of America's truly great composers. Dr. Riemann also is not far wrong when he declares that Paine's earlier works breathe a classical, the latter ones a romantic spirit. This unwearying composer is at his best in large forms—indeed, his supreme devotion to large undertakings has left him little time for smaller works. His artistic career displays a steady growth not unlike that of Wagner or Verdi. Grounded in the conservative principles of sound Germanic classicism, as revealed in his powerful and dramatic oratorio "St. Peter," he has pressed onward through various stages of legitimate program music, represented by such works as the "Spring Symphony," the symphonic poem "The Tempest," the overture to "As You Like It," the setting of Keats' "Realm of Fancy," Milton's "Nativity," and, most important of all, the "Oedipus Tyrannos of Sophokles." Having reached the height of his power in these lines, Paine advanced yet further and concentrated his energies upon not only the music but the libretto as well of a dramatic conception that should head the list of a genuine American school of opera. The recent completion of "Azara," with its dramatic continuity, irresistible climaxes, dignity and beauty of musical contents, consistent and effective orchestration, is of epoch-making significance. The exasperating obstacles placed in the way of its performance both here and abroad are, alas, too well known to require additional comment. Until a production of this work shall have been an accomplished fact, our country justly merits the existing condemnation of foreign musicians who declare that America has not the slightest conception of her duties either to her artistic development or to her native composers who have sacrificed the best years of their lives in the hope of stimulating that development. Not without justice do the Germans declare that the American public at large possess no artistic instincts whatever, since they force their native composers to turn to foreign lands for encouragement.[109]

Buck (1839) is conspicuously identified with the evolution of American church music. As a composer he is at his best in religious composition in smaller forms. On the other hand, his important contributions to the branch of larger choral works with orchestral accompaniment must not be overlooked. His scenes from Longfellow's "Golden Legend" were deemed worthy of winning one of the coveted prizes at Cincinnati. The cantata for male chorus "Columbus" displays masterly command in the deployment of men's voices, whereas the "Light of Asia" is one of the standard works of America. Buck has rather neglected the field of purely orchestral music, but the scoring of his choral compositions reveals the firm hand of a master.

Foote (1853). Turning to a younger generation who have sturdily maintained the high standard set before them, one naturally recalls the name of one who may perhaps be regarded as the most satisfactory exponent of the efficiency of two American teachers, Paine and Lang, the most significant representative of an exceptional class of musician—the native trained composer, Arthur Foote. It is generally conceded that Foote is possessed of unusual powers in writing for men's voices. Widely known is his "Skeleton in Armor" with its forceful utterance, as well as his poetic setting of "The Farewell of Hiawatha." Again, in the field of song lyrics he has endeared himself to the worthy army of singers by virtue of a notable series of exceptional and widely contrasted productions. His true strength would, however, appear to reveal itself in the noblest vehicles of musical thought—the quartet and the orchestra. Foote does not aim to produce sensational effects, in fact his orchestral canvas has, on the whole, a grayish hue. The seriousness of his purpose, the serenity of his ideals, and the unmistakable impress of a cultured University training are faithfully reproduced in the nobility, the breadth, and the sober though appropriate coloring of his artistic conceptions. The present writer is inclined to regard him as the Brahms of this country.

Chadwick (1854). In contrast to Foote's domestic education, Chadwick stands among the first of that memorable list of students who served a rigorous apprenticeship under Rheinberger in Munich, and thereby helped to perpetuate his name in America. A mighty throng followed in Chadwick's footsteps, among whom were the composers Parker, Huss, Bullard, Atherton; the educators Lewis and Spalding; the organists and teachers John White, Howland, and Bertram Henry. Not only did Chadwick with one stroke make his individuality felt upon returning to his native land,—an individuality that has since been strengthened rather than lessened,—but his appointment to the directorship of the New England Conservatory of Music was a choice so opportune that that institution has since been raised to a standard of excellence it never before had enjoyed, and is becoming one of the recognized arbiters in the musical affairs of the country. Like Foote, Chadwick has tried his hand in divers fields of composition, being particularly successful in writing part-songs as well as songs with pianoforte accompaniment. Large choral works have, however, also claimed his attention, and are represented by his cantata "The Pilgrims," and again by "The Viking's Last Voyage" for barytone solo, male chorus and orchestra. It appears to be the fortune of American composers to become known primarily by their vocal compositions. This is also true of Chadwick. Nevertheless, he has given expression to his loftiest inspiration in a series of chamber and orchestral pieces that stamp him as a keen judge of those essentials required for large instrumental works. His form, though conservative, is well rounded. His orchestration is chaste and refined rather than sensational and glowing. His music is above all manly and energetic. Personally, Chadwick may not regard his operetta "Tabasco" with all too favorable eyes; yet the step taken was assuredly in the right direction. It is to be regretted that our contemporary American composers seem unable to take a firm stand in imperceptibly educating the public with a light yet artistic genre of music such as characterizes Chadwick's "Tabasco" or the earlier operettas of Victor Herbert and de Koven.

MacDowell (1861). In venturing the assertion that MacDowell stands apart on his exalted pinnacle of fame, there is not the slightest danger of incurring disparaging comparisons between him and his eminent contemporaries who have been classified under this heading. Paine's monumental achievements are unassailable. Buck occupies an honorable position as one of the foremost of our writers of church music. Foote and Chadwick have each of them established their respective individuality as composers of exceptional ability. Parker holds undisputed sway in his particular domain. What separates MacDowell from his colleagues is the difference between his perspective and theirs. His conceptions betray certain tendencies that are foreign to their Anglo-Saxon ruggedness with its Teutonic substructure. MacDowell's Scotch ancestry, his intimacy with Raff, his contact with the artistic life of Paris,—all these circumstances helped to mould his exceptional genius into a form distinctly original and unique. It is natural that the influence of his teacher, Raff, should predominate. But whereas Raff's programmatic expositions deal in the romance of enchantment, of the supernatural, of the fantastic, MacDowell pins his faith to the romance of poetic imagination symbolic of emotional realities. Lawrence Gilman, in a persuasive essay on MacDowell, eulogizes, together with other works, his symphonic poems "Hamlet and Ophelia," "Lancelot and Elaine," "The Saracens" and "Lovely Alda" as "the works of a master of imaginative expression, a penetrative psychologist, above all, an exquisite poet." The same writer further remarks that "MacDowell has chosen occasionally to employ, in the realization of his purposes, what seems at first to be precisely the magical apparatus so necessary to the older romanticism. Dryads and elves inhabit his world, and he dwells at times under faery boughs and in enchanted woods; but for him, as for the poets of the Celtic tradition, these things are but the manifest images of an interior passion and delight. Seen in the transfiguring mirror of his music, the moods and events of the natural world and of the incessant drama of psychic life are vivified into shapes and designs of irresistible beauty and appeal. Both in theory and in practice, MacDowell stands uncompromisingly for music that is, of intention, persistently pictorial and impressionistic.... It is as much in his choice of subjects as in the peculiar vividness and felicity of his expression, that he is unique among tone-poets of the external world." The above citations present a faithful picture of MacDowell's philosophical reasonings. His chord formation, harmonic progressions, thematic treatment and structural form are all in accord with the psychological subtleties to be expressed.

It is particularly in orchestration that MacDowell discloses certain French characteristics. Many of his pages might have been written by Saint-SaËns himself, but the "solid" foundation inoculated by the exacting requirements of his German training is never entirely absent. As a result, MacDowell's scoring frequently surpasses even that of his illustrious French contemporary. MacDowell proves no exception to the rule in that his popularity is due not so much to his more significant orchestral works as to his smaller offerings such as his attractive and highly ingenious pieces for the pianoforte. He has still many years before him, and gives promise of ever increasing power and versatility. America may well be proud of him![110]

Parker (1863). In several respects Parker's orchestral and choral style bears some affinity to that of both Foote and Chadwick. His subject-matter, like theirs, is serious—at times even severe; his formal structures are conservative; his command of vocal forces is supreme. Again, his orchestral colors, like theirs, are accused of being cold and gray,—devoid of scintillating tints and glowing hues. This may be true to a certain extent. But when one considers the genre of choral composition to which these three composers are addicted, it will be readily seen that a radical readjustment of their orchestral pages in favor of warmer coloring would be inconsistent with the nature of their oratorical settings. Among the most conspicuous of Parker's productions are the overtures "Regulus" and "Count Robert of Paris," the ballad for chorus and orchestra "King Trojan," and, of course, his masterpiece "Hora Novissima." Parker shares with MacDowell the good fortune of having already won enduring recognition in foreign lands,—Parker in England, MacDowell in France, Germany and Russia. Yale University was one of the first institutions of this country to follow Harvard's lead in establishing a chair of music, and showed sound judgment in selecting so eminent a composer as Parker to occupy that chair.

As already intimated, the country is further represented by a dignified array of American born composers for the orchestra, who are working against fearful odds in behalf of improved conditions for native art. Gilchrist (1846) was, like Arthur Foote, trained in this country, and is identified with the city of Philadelphia. His forte is choral and religious music, being, moreover, a remarkably successful prize winner. His symphonic attempts show sound scholarship, but are conservative and non-programmatic. The name of F.G. Gleason (1848) is highly respected in Chicago. His works display harmonic rather than melodic strength, and were frequently performed by Theodore Thomas. In Pittsburgh, Adolph Foerster (1854) has done fine work in both large and small forms. Of unusual interest are the scores of J.H. Beck (1856) in consequence of their novel effects and warm coloring. His early success in Germany justified the hope that he would become widely known, but he seems to have so far intentionally avoided the publishers. Arthur Bird (1856) cannot be blamed for preferring to live in the midst of the generous artistic encouragement of a European city. Of especial merit are his symphony in A and the ballet "RÜbezahl." The representative composer of San Francisco is Edgar S. Kelley (1857). He was a pupil of Clarence Eddy, but studied also in Stuttgart. He is essentially a programmatic writer, possesses considerable originality and humor, orchestrates with skill and daring, and has been especially successful with his melodramatic music to "Macbeth." Henry Schoenefeld (1857) was a pupil of both Reinecke and Lassen, and was identified with Chicago. His undertakings are worthy of consideration in consequence of his adaptation and idealization of negro melodies in his Suite for string-orchestra, op. 15, before DvorÁk's experiments of similar nature. Schoenefeld has since written an overture entitled "In the Sunny South." San Francisco can boast of yet another orchestral composer of repute—Frederick Zeck Jr., who has written, among other things, several symphonies, a symphonic poem, and even a romantic opera.

Frank van der Stucken (1858) cuts a large figure in the evolution of American music. He is frequently though erroneously regarded as a German, but he was born in Texas, and studied not only in Leipzig but under Benoit in Antwerp as well. He first rose to prominence as director of the Arion Male Chorus Society of New York. In 1885 he instituted a series of "Novelty Concerts" that opened up new possibilities to America's neglected composers. Since undertaking the directorship of the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra in 1895, van der Stucken has made himself a national benefactor by encouraging and repeatedly performing American productions. He is himself a composer of no mean ability, possesses decidedly modern tendencies, and orchestrates with unerring certainty. His compositions cover a wide field and include an opera "Vlasda," a symphonic prologue "William Ratcliff," and a Suite on Shakespeare's "Tempest."

Walter Damrosch (1862) has acquired the right to be ranked with America's orchestral composers on account of his grand opera "The Scarlet Letter," and Reginald de Koven (1859) knows how to enhance the scores of his comic operas with a lightness of touch and some clever devices. "Robin Hood" and "The Fencingmaster" are sprightly and refined even though guilty of occasional plagiarism.

Mrs. Beach is rightfully looked upon as an eminent leader among the women composers of America and is fully entitled to equal rank with her fair contemporaries in France, CÉcile Chaminade and Augusta HolmÈs. Her "Gaelic Symphony" has been performed not only by the Boston Symphony Orchestra and by Theodore Thomas, but has been granted numerous performances by other representative organizations as well. Mrs. Beach's scores are exceedingly elaborate—possibly too much so. Nevertheless, her command of orchestral resources is remarkable, and in her Mass in E flat, op. 5, she has obtained impressive effects, rich colors and dramatic climaxes.

The scores of Bonvin and Lewis have already been referred to. The former evolves his conceptions by means of the most intricate polyphony and with an opulence of orchestral effects. Lewis has branched out into lines distinctly his own. A Brahms background of grayish orchestration is in evidence, but his rhythm is absolutely unfettered, his harmonies are bold, and his mastery of thematic treatment is unusual.

Of the younger composers born after 1860, much may be expected from F.S. Converse of Harvard,[111] who is in close touch with the ultra-modern school of composition with all its attending freedom of form and emancipation from stereotyped pattern, for he has already excited attention both in this country and in England.[112] A promising pupil of Rheinberger is Henry Holden Huss, who is essentially a dramatic and lyric composer. The healthy and above all optimistic tendencies of Henry K. Hadley's compositions, as exemplified by his symphony "Youth and Life," stand out in sharp contrast against the morbidness and pessimism that have apparently won the upper hand in musical art during the last fifteen years. Rubin Goldmark was born in New York and is living at present in that city. He is possessed of a thoroughly artistic nature and has inherited much of his eminent uncle's originality and ability to impart luscious tone-colors to his orchestral tableaux.

Before concluding this classification of orchestral composers it is desired to remind the reader of the vast significance attached to the labors of DvorÁk and X. Scharwenka during their sojourn in the United States. Again, other foreigners who have cast in their lot with us, such as Loeffler[113] and Victor Herbert, are now practically regarded as loyal American composers. Both these men are possessed of sovereign command of orchestration. The one uses his art for portraying vivid realism, the other for the purpose of clothing his pleasing conceptions as evolved in daintier vein.

There are undoubtedly a number of important American composers whose names have been omitted from these pages. The present writer desires to apologize for any such unintentional omission under the plea that it has not been his good fortune to have his attention called either directly or indirectly to their compositions in larger forms.

XIII.

(3) Orchestral and Choral Conductors. The progress of a country's musical art rests largely in the hands of its orchestral and choral conductors. America has been exceptionally fortunate in this respect, for her history presents an army of luminaries who are unexcelled the world over. The concert and operatic stage of New York owes its very existence to such indefatigable workers as Carl Bergmann (1821), Dr. Leopold Damrosch (1832), Theodore Thomas (1835), Anton Seidl (1850), all four of whom were Germans. And at the present day, there are a number of eminent conductors in New York.

To Theodore Thomas more than to anyone else is due the present high standard of musical taste in America. At the head of an excellent virtuoso orchestra, he traversed the country in his earlier years, and revealed for the first time the value and meaning of the thoughts of the great masters, while toward Wagner, Tschaikowsky, DvorÁk, etc., he performed the same mission. These were the days when the New York Philharmonic Society and the Harvard Musical Association in Boston were the only permanent institutions devoted to orchestral music. Theodore Thomas not only established a new standard of interpretation in this country, but so catholic was his taste and so far reaching his purpose that the debt to him can never be paid. During his entire career, his attitude toward the American composer was that of a helpful ally and friend. It was as conductor of the Philharmonic Society of New York for a term of years and particularly as conductor of the Cincinnati May Music Festivals and of the Chicago Orchestra that Thomas' maturer and later years were passed; and it is especially in these cities that his memory and influence will remain ineradicable.

In Boston prior to the establishment of a permanent symphony orchestra in 1881, Lowell Mason's initiative was zealously fostered by the two foreigners, Carl Zerrahn (1826), Bernhard Listemann (1839), and by B.J. Lang (1839), together with other tireless enthusiasts. The Boston Symphony Orchestra has since attracted the best the world can afford—Henschel, Gericke, Nikisch, Paur.[114] Inland, public-spirited citizens have made it possible to establish local symphony orchestras and have almost invariably been exceedingly fortunate in their choice of conductors. Theodore Thomas migrated to Chicago. Franz van der Stucken was called to Cincinnati, Frederic Archer, Victor Herbert, Emil Paur to Pittsburgh, Fritz Scheel to Philadelphia. Perhaps one of the greatest services to the education of the country has been rendered by that vast brotherhood of German Singing Societies which flourish from shore to shore. The high standard of their performances has been constantly sustained by men of splendid attainments such as, for instance, van der Stucken while in New York, John Lund while in Buffalo, Franz Bellinger in Indianapolis. In recent years American Choral Societies have forged to the front. Chicago owes much to Tomlins. Frank Damrosch and his colleagues are doing good work in New York; Mollenhauer, J. Wallace Goodrich and others in Boston. Similar conditions prevail in almost every large city in the Union. Neither may the beneficent influence of our military bandmasters upon the masses be overlooked. Considering the conditions that have existed in the past, no one can censure them for catering to the demands of the public. Nevertheless, they have little by little managed to interpolate numerous transcriptions from works of recognized merit. Such men as Gilmore, Sousa and Innes have done more for the cause of good music than is popularly supposed.

(4) Songs and Smaller Forms. One of the most favorable opportunities open to modern composers in their struggle for recognition is found in the field of songs and salon music. This is particularly the case in America. Consequently, all of our representatives produce such offerings, and that with success. A few composers, however, have made a special study of song writing and pianoforte pieces in lighter genre. Conspicuous among these are G. Templeton Strong, J.H. Rogers, Clayton Johns, Neidlinger, Ethelbert Nevin, Margaret Ruthven Lang, Fred Field Bullard, and Percy L. Atherton. Especial mention is due to Clayton Johns for the charming lyric quality of his songs; to Nevin for the fascination of his lighter pianoforte pieces, that nevertheless avoid triviality; to Miss Lang for the fairy-like daintiness of many of her conceptions; to Bullard, whose promising career was prematurely cut off at the very moment when the rugged simplicity of his inspiring songs and choruses had won the hearts of his countrymen; to Atherton, who is, perhaps, the most talented of contemporary song writers in the realm of subtle psychological reasoning.

(5) Organists and Church Composers. It may be boldly asserted that America concedes the palm to none in the art of organ playing. Such is the skill in registration demanded in these days that that art is practically assuming the dignity of orchestration. This demand has been largely brought about by the need of finding an adequate substitute for concert orchestras. As a result, not only the large cities but almost every town in the Union possesses one or more modern organs presided over by executants of marked ability. In most cases these men devote themselves to church composition as well. Almost all the composers whose careers we have just been reviewing count church playing and church composition among their accomplishments. The only notable exception is MacDowell, who is, instead, a virtuoso pianoforte player. This is not the place to examine into the work of our many excellent church organists and composers. One is confronted by notable names wherever one turns. In Boston, Warren A. Locke has for many years held undisputed authority in matters pertaining to church services and boy choirs. Whitney and Whiting have done similar good work. Of the younger men, J. Wallace Goodrich displays an astounding technique, unexcelled either in this country or in France. The high standard of Episcopal church music in New York is due to such men as Samuel P. Warren, Richard H. Warren, Stubbs, Hall, etc. Among the prominent soloists are Eddy, Archer,[115] and Gerrit Smith. Shelley (1858) is widely known for his church compositions. He has also written large works such as the oratorio "The Inheritance Divine," but owes his popularity primarily to pleasing though rather conventional songs. Another prominent church composer is Jules Jordan of Providence, whose interest is centered chiefly in oratorio. N.H. Allen, Marston, Hanscom and Coombs should also be mentioned under this heading.

(6) Teachers and Theorists. Teachers and theorists have found a fertile field in the United States, and in scientific educational matters the native American easily takes the lead. Already a dignified array of theoretical and pedagogical books have been added to the literature of music by such authors as A.J. Goodrich, A.R. Parsons, Goetschius, Wilson G. Smith, Matthews, Chadwick, Benjamin Cutter, Spalding, Norris. American teachers have won recognition in Europe as well. Goetschius found occupation in Stuttgart; Boise was for years an authority in Berlin.

(7) School and College. Of late, increased attention has been bestowed upon the study of music in the college curriculum. Harvard's lead is being followed, and chairs of music have been established on every hand. Harvard has been obliged to increase its staff of musical instructors, so that Paine is now assisted by Spalding and Converse.[116] Excellent work is being done by Parker at Yale, Lewis at Tufts, Gow at Vassar, Macdougall at Wellesley, Chadwick at the New England Conservatory, Pratt at the Hartford Theological Seminary. At Columbia, MacDowell has been succeeded by RÜbner, who is ably seconded by McWhood. Smith College was one of the pioneers in musical affairs, being represented until recently by Blodgett, who was possessed of a peculiarly magnetic power. One of his prominent lieutenants, who is still in active service at Smith, is the pianoforte teacher and pedagogue, Edwin B. Story. He is one of the most fluent accompanists in the country. The enterprise of these college professors is making itself felt in the preparatory schools of the country, whereby the entire artistic morale of the public at large is being elevated. Credit is also due to the sound principles inoculated into the teaching of music in the public schools by such men as Frank Damrosch in New York or Tomlins in Chicago.

The writer has intentionally overstepped the bounds of orchestral composition for the purpose of emphasizing the prodigious activity displayed by our professional brethren on every hand. Throughout these pages there runs an undercurrent of discontent provoked by the listless attitude of the American public taken as a whole. The fickleness of their support seems to be at the root of our troubles. Everything conceivable is being done for this public. Music in the schools is encouraged. The colleges are alive to the needs of the hour. Many of our composers are sacrificing their inner convictions on the altar of patriotism with the determination to write simply. Music lovers and philanthropists are enlisted in the cause. A high musical standard for religious worship is maintained. Orchestral performances can be listened to at moderate cost. Such renditions are as good as, frequently better than, those in Europe. How is it, then, that so many choral societies flourish for a few seasons, only to eventually die a lingering death? Buffalo's Symphony Orchestra is no more. Other cities have allowed similar mortifying conditions to come to pass.

On the other hand, the singer or the instrumental virtuoso reaps rewards that are out of all proportion to the tardy recognition and modest remuneration awarded to their colleagues—the composers, conductors, and organists—who are almost invariably possessed of an artistic education far superior to that of the soloist. A Rossinian era would appear to have reasserted itself! The larger number of these soloists are themselves rarely patriotic, for only with difficulty can they be persuaded to sing or perform even the finest of American productions. Orchestral conductors who come to our shores from abroad soon perceive that the public does not support home talent in a whole-hearted manner, and adjust their programs accordingly. With a few notable exceptions, they too are disloyal. Again, the worthy efforts of our comparatively few eminent newspaper critics in behalf of the American composer are constantly counteracted by the superficial and bombastic criticisms of their lesser brethren.

The American composer is to-day ready to enter the lists against the entire world. His own countrymen are impeding him. It is high time that the American public awake out of its lethargy!

(Summary on page 180.)