CHAPTER I.

NATIONALITY IN MUSIC

The outflow of musical production has become so wide during the last fifty years, and so many composers have distinguished themselves in every part of the world, that it is a matter of no small difficulty to make a selection of names sufficiently representative to illustrate the many-sided individualities of this movement. Dividing the entire list into countries which have produced the composers, or in which they have principally expressed themselves, we have at least four great European provinces or musical centers, viz., Germany (including also Austro-Hungary), Russia, France, and the Scandinavian countries, including Sweden, Norway, and Denmark. To this list of characteristic nationalities in music must be added our own, the American.

As soon as we pass beyond the short roll of the great masters in instrumental music of the first class, we immediately come upon a large circle of composers of such cleverness that they have just missed becoming enrolled in the higher list, and perhaps some of them will, later on, be included among the immortals. The operation of this slow promotion is something like that of the French Academy, where, when one member dies, a new one is elected to take his place. In this way, with forty immortals constantly on duty, as one may say (although as a matter of fact they are rarely elected to that honor until their productive activity has practically ceased), the nation has a long roll of distinguished and honored authors, composers, artists, and the like.

In all this music since Liszt there are curious resemblances and equally curious differences. To speak first of the resemblances, it is an interesting circumstance that by far the greater number of the composers have been educated, at least in part, at the Conservatory of Leipsic, which, ever since it was founded by Mendelssohn, has held a wholly unique pre-eminence among the music schools of the world—a pre-eminence which in many respects it has not deserved, especially upon the technical side of musical instruction; and most emphatically with reference to the pianoforte, where for at least ten years after the death of Schumann nothing of Chopin, Schumann, or Liszt was admitted or permitted to be taught to the students. Then a very grudging reception was given to the works of Chopin, while Schumann had to wait some time longer; and it is only within a very recent period that the peculiar value of Liszt as a writer for the piano-forte has been recognized at all. On the other hand, it is evident that any school able to attract to itself so large a percentage of the highly gifted musicians of the different countries, who have afterward shown themselves to possess creative talent of a high order, must have had about it a quality at least unusual and commanding. Almost all the composers who will be taken up have been educated in Germany, or by teachers who were themselves educated in Germany. Almost the only exceptions to this rule are probably the American, Gottschalk, and the Frenchman, Saint-SaËns. Accordingly, the marks of nationality and of individuality in the music of the different composers are rarely sufficient to prevent the works of any composer from being current in any other country, and, from the mere sound of the works, in a great majority of cases it would be difficult to tell whether they are German or of some other nationality, so strongly does the German influence pervade and underlie nearly the whole of this production.

The opportunity for expressing nationality in music, or, to say it differently, the possibility of national coloring in music, is somewhat narrow. It is only in the case of the nations which are distinctly unmusical that it is entirely easy to recall their peculiarities, and the features by means of which this is usually done amount to parody. For example, when it is a question of something Turkish, much is made of the tambourine, the cymbals, and the fife. In something Persian or Arabic, the triangle cuts quite a figure; but when it is a question between composers of the civilized countries of Europe, music has become a cosmopolitan language among them all, and only a small number of national traits are to be found distinguishing the production of one country from that of another. It would be an interesting study to trace these marks of nationality, but it would take us too far. Suffice it to say that in general, taking German music as representing the purest type of instrumental music, in which the musical idea as such has full sway, the Russians differ from this mainly in their own uncontrollable energy and a certain fondness for a semi-barbaric display of over-coloration. The pigments with which they work and the manner of treating their ideas are not materially different from that of the German composers of the purest type. It is only a question of exaggerating certain features—to judge them from the German standpoint. This is true, in a general way, of the entire list of Russian composers, all of whom have been influenced a good deal from Leipsic, although Russia has had for many years a very strong music school of its own at St. Petersburg, established by Rubinstein in 1862. It was at this school that Tschaikowsky and Glazounow were educated. In the Austro-Hungary empire there are two nationalities which have left quite an impress upon their music productions. They are the Bohemians and the Hungarians. The Hungarian, representing the extreme of the emphasis and caprice; the Bohemian, showing a great deal of impetuosity;—which, however, they lose in their productions in proportion as they become polished and finished writers. Bohemianism, in German music, has more the character of provincialism than of a national mark.

In France there has been a national school this long time in which all the young composers are educated; a school which has turned out men like Berlioz, Gounod, Bizet, Delibes, Massenet, and a great and honored roll of composers and artists. French music differs from German primarily in taking itself less seriously. Everything tends to be shorter; there is a more fanciful and capricious use of passing tones and by-tones of every sort, and its general complexion is that of daintiness and sensuous sweetness, rather than of deep thought. The French school is therefore well adapted for imparting refinement to the style of a performer.

The writers of the Scandinavian peninsula have certain peculiarities in their melody which impart to their work a trait of local color. This one finds in the writings of Grieg, Svendsen, and to some extent in those of Gade. A similar coloring was hit upon much earlier by Mendelssohn in the beginning of the "Hebrides" overture.

America can not be said, as yet, to have attained a national school. We had one genius who might be called self-instructed—viz., Louis Moreau Gottschalk. All of our composers since have been German educated, or educated under teachers who themselves were German taught, and as yet our music is little more than a slightly modified German production, although our composers are beginning to show as much originality and force as the better class of the writers of any country.

Selecting only those names the most prominent in the several countries, and more particularly the composers who have distinguished themselves in pianoforte music, the following seem, on the whole, the most worthy of our attention:

In Germany—Brahms, Dvorak, Raff, D'Albert, Nicode, Moszkowski, Jensen, Reinecke, Paderewski, and Scharwenka.

In Russia—Rubinstein, Henselt, Tschaikowsky, Balakirew, Glazounow, and Karganoff.

In France—Stephen Heller, Saint-SaËns, Pierne, Faure, Widor, Guyrand, and Benoit.

In Scandinavia—Grieg, Gade, Svendsen, Kjerulf, and Meyer-Helmund.

In America—Gottschalk, Mason, Wollenhaupt, Foote, Chadwick, MacDowell, and others.

CHAPTER II.

BRAHMS.

JOHANNES BRAHMS.

Born at Hamburg, May 7, 1833.
Died at Vienna, April 3, 1897.

In Johannes Brahms we have a musical master of the first order. His quality as master was shown in his marvelous technic, in which respect no recent composer is to be mentioned as his superior, if any can be named, since Bach, as his equal. This technic was at first personal, at the pianoforte, upon which he was a virtuoso of phenomenal rank; but this renown, great as it is in well-informed circles, sinks into insignificance beside his marvelous ability at marshaling musical periods, elaborating together the most dissimilar and apparently incompatible subjects, and his powers of varying a given theme and of ever unfolding from it something new. These wonderful gifts—for such they were, rather than laboriously acquired attainments—Brahms showed at the first moment when the light of musical history shines upon him. It was in 1853, when the Hungarian violinist, Edouard Remenyi, found him at Hamburg and engaged him as accompanist, and having ascertained his astonishing talents, brought him, a young man of twenty, to Liszt at Weimar, with his first trio and certain other compositions in manuscript. The new talent made a prodigious effect upon Liszt, who needed not that any one should certify to him whether a composer had genius or merely talent. And that Brahms on his own part made the regrettable mistake of falling asleep while Liszt in turn was playing for him his newly completed sonata for pianoforte, is an incident which was important only for the moment. The Liszt circle took up the Brahms cult in earnest, played the trio at the chamber concerts, and the members, when they departed to their homes, generally carried with them their admiration of this new personality which had appeared in music.

William Mason, the New York teacher and pianist, was at Weimar at the time, and when he came back to New York and, with the young Theodore Thomas, opened the celebrated series of chamber concerts,—modeled, as the prospectus said, "after those of Mr. Liszt at Weimar,"—the first program included the Brahms Trio in B-flat. From that time until now, for nearly forty years, Mr. Thomas has paid his tribute to the genius of Brahms, introducing the new works as fast as they have appeared, and repeating the older ones many times.

Johannes Brahms was born at Hamburg, May 7, 1833, the son of a fine musician who was player upon the double bass in the orchestra there. The boy was always intended for a musician, and his instruction was taken in hand with so much success that at the age of fourteen he played in public pieces by Bach and Beethoven, and a set of original variations. At the age of twenty he was a master, and it was in this year that he accompanied Remenyi, made the acquaintance of Joachim and Liszt, and had a rarely appreciative notice from a master no less than Robert Schumann himself, who, in his "New Journal of Music," said:

"He has come—a youth at whose cradle graces and heroes kept watch. Sitting at the piano, he began to unveil wonderful regions. We were drawn into more and more magical circles by his playing, full of genius, which made of the piano an orchestra of lamenting and jubilant voices. There were sonatas, or rather veiled symphonies; songs whose poetry might be understood without words; piano pieces both of a demonaic nature and of the most graceful form; sonatas for piano and violin; string quartets, each so different from every other that they seemed to flow from many different springs. Whenever he bends his magic wand, there, when the powers of the orchestra and chorus lend him their aid, further glimpses of the magic world will be revealed to us. May the highest genius strengthen him! Meanwhile the spirit of modesty dwells within him. His comrades greet him at his first entrance into the world of art, where wounds may perhaps await him, but bay and laurel also; we welcome him as a valiant warrior."

The next few years were spent by Brahms in directing orchestra and chorus at Detmold and elsewhere, and in Switzerland, which always had great attraction for him. In 1859 he played in Leipsic his first great pianoforte concerto; most of the criticisms thereon were, however, such as now excite mirth. In the later years of his life he played in Leipsic again, conducted several of his works, and was greeted with the reverence and enthusiasm due the greatest living representative of the art of music. In 1862 Brahms located in Vienna, where he lived until his death. Mr. Louis Kestelborn, in "Famous Composers and their Works," says: "About thirty years ago the writer first saw Brahms in his Swiss home; at that time he was of a rather delicate, slim-looking figure, with a beardless face of ideal expression. Since then he has changed in appearance, until now he looks the very image of health, being stout and muscular, the noble, manly face surrounded by a full gray beard. The writer well remembers singing under his direction, watching him conduct orchestra rehearsals, hearing him play alone or with orchestra, listening to an after-dinner speech or private conversation, observing him when attentively listening to other works, and seeing the modest smile with which he accepted, or rather declined, expressions of admiration."

The Serenade, Opus 11, in D major, was written before 1859. It consists of six pieces, in form analogous to a suite. The first is marked allegro molto. It is in the key of D, the melody opening for horn. This is followed by a counter-theme of clarinets, after which all the instruments take part. Much is made of a pleasing motive in thirds by the clarinets. There is a charming elaboration containing bold and free modulations, touching such keys as D-flat, B-flat, D minor, etc.

The second movement, scherzo, allegro non troppo, is in the key of D minor and in the style of a Beethoven scherzo, which, again, is a legitimate outgrowth of certain movements of Bach. It opens with an idea for violins and bassoons, and goes on in a very buoyant and vigorous manner, with abundant syncopations, modulations, and unexpected incidents. It is beautifully developed. Then it gives place to a trio in B-flat, in which the violins start with a syncopated rhythm, and later all the orchestral persons take their turn in the development. After this is finished the scherzo is recapitulated.

The adagio opens with a melody for bassoons and basses, which later leads to a very legato and lovely melody for violins, treated at times with very elaborate figuration, especially at the return of the principal theme.

The first menuetto begins with a melody for clarinets, which is developed into a short form. Then follows the second menuetto, which many would have called a trio, excepting that it really is a complete little minuet, the leading idea of which is given by the second violins; after this the first menuetto returns.

Then follows another scherzo, in D major, the subject being given out by the horns, accompanied by the 'cellos.

In the trio the same combination takes precedence, but the 'cello figures are twice as fast.

The work concludes with a rondo, the principal subject of which is very sprightly in character, given out by the clarinets and bassoons, accompanied by the lower strings. This movement is carried out with great spirit. The work as a whole is of singularly genial character.

It happened to the writer to enter the rehearsal once during one of the movements. He was expecting something by Tschaikowsky or Richard Strauss. As he listened, the simplicity and naÏvetÉ of the ideas suggested Mozart; but presently there was an earnestness foreign to Mozart, and Beethoven was recalled. Just then the counterpoint took a turn which was plainly not Beethoven, but surely the work of some late master, and the question was, Who could have done a thing of this kind so delightfully, with such reserve? All at once the author's name occurred. "Surely," he said, "it is Brahms"; and it was. It is the beauty of an unpretending work of this character by so great a master that the hearer is able to follow it with so much enjoyment and from purely musical motives, without making himself unhappy in the effort to realize a story or some great and mysterious power. It is genius in its moments of pure enjoyment.

The Symphony in E minor was first published in 1885, and immediately was pronounced by advanced musicians the most significant of Brahms, because showing the composer's nature more completely and, so to say, more spontaneously. This opinion, says Dr. Kretschmar, is based upon the elevation of the work and the fact that in it Brahms for the first time fully displays his many-sided individuality and genius in the province of symphony. "The singer of the great German requiem stands before us." Like its predecessors, it is developed out of a small number of fundamental ideas, but with a degree of complexity beneath its apparent simplicity which makes it a rich field for musical analysis.

The first movement is marked allegro non assai (quick, but not too quick). In spirit it is noble, forceful, yet tender and extremely musical. The opening melody is itself made up thematically out of the first little molecule of two tones, or out of the first four tones, if you please. This is carried through sixteen measures in order to bring it to completion; it is immediately resumed with an added element of rhythmic motion and varieties of harmony, and carried through along to the second idea.

The instruments concerned in the first enunciation of the theme are mainly the strings, the horns having long holding tones, and the wood-wind coming in with accompanying chords upon the off beat. Presently a second or transitional theme enters, of a jolly free character, which brings us almost immediately to a beautiful second theme for the 'cellos, the sustained and song-like character of which well contrasts with the broken character of the leading idea.

The elaboration now follows the jolly little counter-theme in connection with the leading theme, and while the continued treatment of the working out seems simple, it is in fact extremely rich, and well managed for intensifying the elegiac character of the opening subject. Abundance of melodic life meets us in every one of the orchestral voices, and the richness of detail is like that of one of the old cathedrals, where the mighty mass of the whole is no less significant to the distant observer than the patient care with which all the smaller spaces have been elaborated is grateful to the close student. A curious circumstance of this movement is the apparent resumption of the principal theme prematurely in its own key, the development immediately taking a new turn, and when finally the principal theme returns, it is at first in a foreign key, almost at once, however, giving place to the original harmonies.

A movement of this character is not to be judged or studied from a technical standpoint, but from that of enjoyable hearing. It is a musical discourse, in which the first thing to feel is the very patent fact that the author is trying to say something to us; and the second to make out something of what this significance may mean in its general and larger aspects; and, only later than this, what it is in its details.

In two respects this work seems to the student different from the symphonic work of Beethoven on the one hand, and from the earnest orchestral work of later masters on the other. It is thoroughly modern in its thematic handling. Everything grows out of a very few central roots; yet out of these vital germs, as in the stories of Eastern magicians, a mighty tree forms itself before our very eyes. Or, to change the figure, while the actual melodic germ is very small, its development into the leading subject takes it over a considerable range of rhythm and harmony, and brings it to us with almost a song-like character. Then, when we come to a second subject, it is not so completely contrasted as in Beethoven; or, rather, it still partakes of the modern spirit, being, if very legato, nevertheless very appealing and earnest in its harmonic treatment. This is one point where Beethoven always did differently, for his second subjects are almost invariably simple and lyric, with something very like a folk-song turn of melody. Brahms remains upon the elevated plane of musical earnestness which he assumes at starting, and throughout the entire work carries us ever to greater heights.

Again, from the side of tone-color Brahms differs from later writers in not giving himself much to mere lusciousness of tone contrast, but confines himself to carrying out his ideas with those portions of the orchestra best suited in turn, and with more reference to cumulative impression from the treatment than to mere richness and contrast of color. The contrasts do still meet us here, but they are never glaring. It is even a question whether the colors are so strongly contrasted as commonly in Beethoven. But it is not a question whether the music is strong, meaningful, and musicianly. These qualities are patent to even a casual hearing. Equally recognizable is that inner something which has been called the ethical element; a something in the general spirit of treatment, or behind it, which we intuitively feel as consistent with our highest thoughts, noblest moods, and best resolutions. This is distinguished from the merely sensuous, as represented sometimes in Berlioz, Goldmark, Gounod, and the like; and the fantastic, inconsequent, and irresponsible, as represented, for instance, in Richard Strauss' "Till Eulenspiegel."

The second movement, andante moderate, although very strange in certain of its peculiarities, is nevertheless very beautiful, and at the same time novel. The subject is given out first by the horn alone; afterward it is taken up by the oboes and flutes, while the strings have a secondary place and complete the harmony.

Kretschmar says that it reminds one of a story of the olden time, an impression due to the archaic tonality, the first version of the theme being in the Gregorian Phrygian mode—a key of E in which all the notes are naturals. On its repetition it is given a different turn, the scale having a major seventh, but minor third and sixth.

Kretschmar says: "In the middle of this movement, where the triplets begin, the music forsakes this neutral tone and shows a friendly spirit and breaks out into heart-felt lamentations." In other words, a subordinate subject is introduced which Mr. Apthorp characterizes (in the Boston Symphony Orchestra programs) as "a grave, solemn melody, harmonized and scored in the richest coloring."

A third melodic idea still remains to be mentioned. It is the melody for 'cello, which is delicately accompanied by the higher strings. Later the first subject returns in a variety of treatment, always cumulative in its character, and frequently with strange transformations. The impression of the whole is, after all, that already mentioned; it is a story of the olden times, into which a modern thread has been woven, and through which the modern heart still thrills and vibrates none the less powerfully for the strange-sounding accents of the ancient tonality.

The third movement, allegro giocoso (giocoso primarily means jokingly), opens with full orchestra. This movement takes the place of a scherzo. It is earnest, vigorous, and free; at times, as Mr. Apthorp says, "almost fierce"; and for straightforward directness stands in manly contrast to the movements preceding.

The fourth movement, again, is marked allegro energico epassionato (quick, energetically, and passionately). It opens with eight measures for all the brass. The melody lies in the upper voice.

Upon this as cantus firmus Brahms has developed what is known as a passacaglia; originally a rather slow and stately dance, but in musical use denoting a movement developed over a ground bass, or single harmonic foundation, the final result partaking somewhat of the nature of variations; but more of a sort of cumulative playing with musical elements, finally reaching a great degree of complexity, which, if well done, should also be a complexity of idea and a fullness and richness of expression. It was in this spirit that Bach handled the form in his great C minor Passacaglia for organ, now transcribed for orchestra, and played occasionally, if I remember, by Mr. Thomas; and it is in this spirit that Brahms works here. Occasionally the spirit changes to something tender, meditative; but this is only to gain strength. Immediately it resumes, and is carried ever and ever to higher pitches of force and meaning. Melody after melody appears in prominent places, but under every one lies the harmonic foundation of the fundamental subject. There are thirty-two of these variations in all.

The criticism which has been made upon Brahms, that a movement of this kind has no proper place in symphony, is "not competent," as lawyers say; for, setting aside the demonstrated fact that Brahms knew better what could be done in symphony than any of his critics, there is plenty of precedent for doing almost anything one cares to try in the fourth movement of a symphony. The old practice had a rondo for the final movement of the sonata. Beethoven rightly felt the insignificance of this form and its half trivial spirit, and in many directions he sought to get out of it, and to end his sonatas with a climax of the spiritual interest. The same desire is shown in his symphonies and chamber music. Brahms has here given us a manly, vigorous, strongly developed piece. At least, it closes the symphony without loss of vitality—whether with increasing elevation of spiritual meaning is for each hearer to determine according to the measure of his capacity and receptive ness. Inspiration is not a question of light being ready, but of clear glass to shine through.

For virtuoso pianists an entirely new world remains to be conquered in the works of Brahms. Beginning with those of his earliest period, there is even then a marvelous novelty in the combinations and, above all, a peculiarly rich and melodic quality of thought which rarely forsakes him, even in the passages where at first sight it seems impossible to make anything of the music beyond an extremely trying exercise. The melodiousness of Brahms and the complexity of the forms in which beautiful conceptions express themselves is even surpassed by the endless variety of new forms and effects which these works reveal. Passages which to the casual player seem dry and forbidding, when properly interpreted, and played gently and melodiously as Brahms demanded, reveal themselves full of an inner warmth and ideality such as no recent master has surpassed or equaled.

From the piano-playing side these new effects rest upon the utmost equality and suppleness of the fingers, a much wider extension of the hand than any previous composer demanded (save possibly Schumann in the "Kreisleriana" and the "Phantasie"), and a melodic quality in all the voices. When to these are added the necessary discrimination of touch and the clear definition of the contrasting voices, together with a sensitive and changeful use of the pedal, the new worlds open.

Beginning with the most advanced of these technical unfoldings, let us take the variations upon a theme from Paganini, of which there are two books. At first view the variations in the first book seem to address themselves exclusively to technical objects, the first variation containing a succession of sixths in the right hand which is extremely trying, the second variation having the same succession for the left hand. In the third variation a very capricious figure is taken as pattern, and the piano is covered in a new way. In the fourth variation there is a long capricious figure and trills high up in the treble with the weak fingers of the right hand. These trills are afterward transferred to the bass, where the thumb and second finger have them, the design being apparently technical. In the fifth variation a very characteristic trick of Brahms' music is brought out in strong light. It is his way of carrying on together a cantus firmus in two's and a counterpoint in three's. All his writing is full of this expedient, one design of which is to mystify the rhythm and to impart to the music a more flowing and ideal character, and at the same time to concentrate the attention of the player upon the large meter, with which these conflicting two's and three's never interfere. In the sixth variation a syncopated effect. In the seventh, very brilliant octave effects. In the eighth a sort of caprice. In the ninth, an extremely brilliant octave effect. In the tenth, the excitement quiets a little, and the variation begins sotto voce. In the eleventh, we enter the major key, and a very delightful and beautiful effect is here produced. The twelfth, again, begins to contain greater difficulties, and our old friend of the two's and three's greets us. The thirteenth, a very brilliant octave variation, which in the fourteenth is carried to a still higher point, and leads immediately to a finale, which concludes the first book.

In the second book technical discussion of this theme is resumed with some running thirds in the bass, which are very troublesome; and in the course of this second book a variety of highly ingenious technical effects are unfolded, almost any one of which affords practice for a very good player for quite a long time. In fact, from a technical point of view, a moderately accomplished pianist might spend perhaps a year in mastering these variations, and at the end of the time would be unable to play them with any artistic effect, unless exceptionally gifted. At the same time, in spite of the technical complication and the apparent absorption in technical treatment of the instrument which these variations show, they each and every one have a legitimate musical object, and when played with a sufficiently masterly technic—as, for instance, by Joseffy, Godowsky, or Rosenthal—they are among the most interesting examples of the evolution of piano playing.

Similar qualities also show themselves in the earliest set of variations upon a theme of Schumann's, and in the beautiful variations upon an original theme in D major, opus 21; but perhaps even better than anywhere else in the variations upon a theme of HÄndel, opus 22, where the beautiful, the musically fresh and pleasing, and the technically unforeseen meet and intermingle with one another.

The HÄndel variations begin somewhat modestly, and as the theme is in the major mode and the harmonies limited almost entirely to tonic and dominant, Brahms was almost compelled to be simple and melodious at times. He contents himself in the earlier variations with rhythmic complications, which are very ingenious and delightful, particularly in the second variation, where a chromatic movement in two's is accompanied in the soprano by a triplet formation. It is doubtful whether any pianoforte work of recent times affords such a brilliant illustration of how much can be done in art by a fortunate combination of constructive ability of the most masterly character with high ideality as Brahms has given in these variations upon the HÄndel theme. They are, at the same time, musical, melodious, rhythmically interesting. The student will do well if he desires a lesson in musical evolution to refer to the variations in their original form as written by HÄndel. They can be found in the HÄndel "Lessons for the Harpsichord," edited by Kohler, in the Peters edition. HÄndel gives but five variations, and these are all of very moderate difficulty. Nevertheless, while they were written for the use of amateurs, they contain nearly all of the HÄndel art of variation-making, as the reader can easily satisfy himself by comparing their treatment with that in the famous "Harmonious Blacksmith" variations in E major.

A very remarkable, and at present almost unknown, chapter of the Brahms cult is afforded by his four Ballads, opus 10. These are short,—only about four pages each,—and when properly interpreted are very noble and beautiful. The first, in D minor, has an opening theme of a very serious and almost antique character, like an old ballad. After one page of this a second subject comes, allegro, in D major, very much more dramatic and broken. This lasts about a page; the principal theme is resumed again, with certain variations of treatment, and the whole concludes at the end of the third page. The second ballad is of a softer and more tender character in its principal subject, and very beautiful it is, too; but the second subject, in B minor, is very emphatic in rhythm, and is followed by a middle piece in B major, in 6/4 time, which is rather difficult to play satisfactorily to one's self. Then the second subject returns, and finally the first, in the key of B major, changing afterward to minor, and thus the end. The third ballad is marked intermezzo, and has the character of a scherzo. It is rather difficult. The fourth ballad, again, is a purely lyric composition, and is precisely what its name implies—a story, a melody with a past. The middle piece of this ballad is in F-sharp major, the original key of the whole being B major, and there is a very pretty and reposeful melodic effect. Nevertheless, the tonality of the piece throughout is extremely vague, no key being adhered to for any length of time, but modulations occurring with a free hand. This ballad is carried out to the extent of eight pages, and is the longest of the lot.

A careful study of these ballads will show them to be works of the deepest poetry, which, while never appealing to the player in search of the grateful and effective, nevertheless richly reward the most intimate acquaintance, and show themselves full of ideality and musical suggestiveness. That they are devoid of all kinds of passage work and pianoforte effects, as such, is merely another way of saying that they are entirely and exclusively loyal to the ideal and the poetic; and these elements in them must eventually give them long life.

A lighter side of the Brahms cult is shown in the Waltzes, opus 39. There are sixteen of these, all short, and very poetic and not at all forbidding in their manner of writing. One or two of them are quite difficult; as, for instance, No. 6. Most of them, however, are within the reach of players of medium grade.

The later works of Brahms have already begun to find currency in the more advanced musical circles in Europe, but for some time after their first publication their value was persistently denied, and they are as yet entirely unknown to the amateur. The following works have been selected as on the whole representing the later development of Brahms to the greatest advantage.

The first intermezzo in opus 119 is in B minor, adagio. A very ideal and poetic movement, requiring, however, to be played with great delicacy and a deep and musical tone, which rarely rises to forte. The other intermezzi of this book I do not much care for. In the opus 116, the fourth number, entitled Intermezzo, is also a very beautiful adagio in E major, and it is one of the most poetic and delightful short pieces for the piano of any recent master. Both these pieces are of quite moderate difficulty. Of a somewhat more dramatic and diversified character is the second intermezzo in the opus 116. This is in A minor, with a somewhat capricious middle piece. The great beauty of these short, slow movements of Brahms is the moderation with which they are treated, and, at the same time, the masterly manner in which the interest is kept up to the end. The most fortunate illustration of Brahms' treatment of the piano in the dramatic and highly moved direction is afforded, perhaps, by the second of the rhapsodies, opus 79. These are in no respect to be mentioned in connection with the rhapsodies by Liszt, which, as is well known, are somewhat ad captandum show pieces founded upon popular airs. The Brahms rhapsody is a poetic rhapsody, perhaps such as the rhapsodists of Greece used to deliver; and in this particular case the music is very dramatic and strongly marked, and at the same time the treatment of the piano is free and the effect brilliant. It is, however, considerably more difficult than any of the pieces mentioned above except the Paganini variations.

This program might well be diversified by a few songs of Brahms; and for this purpose selections may as well be made from the first book of songs by this writer as from any other, as they are among his best-known works.

The first volume of selected songs of Brahms contains six. The first one,—

"O sink, O sink thy grief, my child,
To the bottom of the deep, deep sea,"—

is founded upon a poem by Robert Reinick. In the edition which I notice (Schirmer) there are three texts—German, English, and French. This song is of a very serious and impassioned character, the melody somewhat slow and deliberate. The accompaniment, as so often happens in the songs of Brahms, is purposely developed out of a different rhythmic figure from that of the song itself. In this instance the melody runs in pulses and half pulses, whereas the accompaniment runs in triplets; that is to say, the chords in the right hand run in triplets, while the bass preserves the rhythm of the song itself. The entire rhythmic sense is sustained, or nearly sustained, by half-pulse motion, running at the same time with a continually sustained triplet motion, three to a pulse.

The musical handling of this song presents several peculiarities, the most notable of which is the entrance of the bass upon a dissonance, which at the same time is an advance imitation (to speak Hibernically) of the leading motive of the melody. The effect of this combination with the rhythmic figure already noticed gives the song a much more impassioned character than it would otherwise have.

It would be difficult to say why Brahms has so long remained unpopular with singers, considering how well he uses the voice. In the second line, "A stone, alas, in the sea will sink; my grief returns to me," the lower part of the accompaniment is at the same pitch and identical with the melody itself, but the voice breaks through at the emphatic climax of the phrase, "grief." This is taken upon high G-flat, and is supported with full harmony by both hands, giving the effect of a much stronger harmonic climax, and also affording the singer the needed assistance in maintaining the high pitch.

The second song in the series is a very beautiful one, "To a Violet." This is on a poem by Holty, beginning:

"Hide, O flow'ret, within thy blue recesses,
Hide these pale dews of sorrow."

The entire effect of the song and the accompaniment is extremely tender and delicate, one of the important features in the artistic effect being the arpeggios of the accompaniment, which is throughout in sixteenth-note motion, whereas the melody, in 6/8 time, runs in dotted quarters and eighths.

Another very famous piece, which comes in this volume, is, "Like a Blossoming Lilac My Love Is Fair," here written in the fearfully uninviting key of D-sharp minor. It is poetic and lyric in the extreme, and a more charming selection can not be found.

The next song is "The Old Love," on a poem by Candidus. This is a moderate movement:

"The dusky swallow flieth toward her northern home,
The songsters build and flutter beneath the leafy dome;
The morn is warm and cloudy, the sky bedimmed with rains,
My heart awakes from slumber to old forgotten pains."

Then comes "To a Nightingale," and, last of all, "In Summer Fields."

In closing this somewhat extended discussion of the works of Brahms the writer desires to emphasize the importance of this music and its inherent beauty. In consequence of the entire absence of show passages in the Brahms works, and his uniform adherence to lofty and poetic ideals, together with his fondness for deep and somewhat mystical and meditative effects, his nature has been misunderstood by the greater part of the musical world. It has been charged against him that his music is purely mechanical in its construction, and that he took delight in putting together forbidding and repelling figures without regard for the convenience of players or the pleasure of the hearers. The tone of the previous discussion is perhaps sufficiently clear to define the position of the present writer in regard to this notion. Nevertheless, it is perhaps well to say something a little more definite, and this I will do presently.

It is to be observed, further, that the Brahms symphonies have at length made their way, and are heard now with pleasure in all parts of the world where enlightened audiences listen to orchestral music. Even the Fourth, which in some respects is less attractive at first sight than the others, awakened very great popular applause when it was last played by the Chicago Orchestra, and the Second Symphony is universally recognized throughout the world as a very beautiful masterpiece. However, Brahms has written about 100 songs which have more or less entered into the current of concert appearance, and there are not two opinions concerning their general melodiousness, rare musical quality, and exquisitely poetical effect. But they require beautiful and true voices, finished art of the singer, and, from the accompanist, a real mastery of the instrument. That these qualities are, unfortunately, not always provided by our musical education is one of the reasons why the public at large has made the acquaintance as yet of only a limited number of these songs, among which those in the list above are the best known.

In the judgment of the present writer it is as certain as anything in the future can be that the works of Brahms are destined to enter into the pantheon of the classical in musical art; and are entitled to that distinction by the purity and beauty of their style no less than by the intense originality of the ideas themselves and of their treatment. Musical students, therefore, are earnestly recommended not to permit themselves to be discouraged by the difficulties which their first acquaintance with Brahms will reveal. It is, first, to play the pieces; and, second, to play them in a musical way; then, if the instrument itself is of a musical tone, with a good singing quality, the beauties of the works will more and more appear, and the study will become a delight and an inspiration no less than a great technical education.

If it is possible to command the services of capable instrumentalists, very attractive modifications of the foregoing program can easily be made.

CHAPTER III.

GRIEG.

EDVARD GRIEG.

Born 1843, at Bergen, Norway.

Edvard Hagerup Grieg was born June 15, 1843, at Bergen, Norway. His musical talent asserted itself early, and fortunately his parents were able to provide him with the best of conditions for its development. The famous violinist Ole Bull was a friend of the family and encouraged him to devote himself to the musical profession. In 1858 Grieg went to Leipsic to study under Moscheles, Hauptmann, Wenzel, and Reinecke. He graduated in 1862, receiving praise for one or two small compositions which were played at the final rehearsal, but he was not considered as marked for certain distinction.

Soon after he went to Copenhagen and studied with Gade. Here he met a compatriot, Nordraak, with whom he struck up a warm friendship. The latter, so it is said, imbued Grieg with the idea of giving form and expression to the national spirit and life, and from that time on he devoted himself assiduously to national music, literature, and folk-lore.

Later he married Miss Nina Hagerup, a popular Norwegian singer, who has helped to make his songs well known in all Europe.

The next few years were spent in travel and study, and later in hard, successful work among his own countrymen. The latter are genuinely proud of him, and he has a firm hold on the affections of the people of his native city, where he now resides. His country home, which is his favorite retreat, is almost ideally located, with a commanding view of the fjord and surrounded by forest and heights.

In many respects Edvard Grieg is one of the most interesting composers of the present time. While it is by no means certain that his works will find a place in the classics of the tone poetry of the world, he is entitled, at least, to this much credit—of having, in the first place, found a wider acceptance outside of his native Norway than has fallen to the lot of any Scandinavian composer before him. He has also made a more marked impression, and has brought into the music of the world what might be called, in literary parlance, "a characteristic note." It would be very curious and interesting, if it were convenient, to trace the gradual evolution of this talent, as shown in the successive works which have come from his pen. But for the present it must suffice to speak of a few of them in a more particular manner.

Grieg has written in almost every department of music: chamber music, orchestra suites, overtures, compositions for string quartet, and sonatas for piano and violin, a sonata for piano, concerto for piano, and a very considerable variety of poetic and interesting compositions for piano alone; in addition to these, many songs, some of which have attained a wide currency. In all these works certain characteristic peculiarities of Norwegian music continually make themselves felt, so that there is nothing of Grieg's which could be mistaken for the work of any good German composer. Whether we should regard these national peculiarities in his music as provincialisms, considered from the world's standpoint, or as a fortunate appeal to the ears of his own countrymen and generation, who shall decide?

Grieg belongs to the modern romantic school, conspicuously, in having derived the suggestion or inspiration of many of his pieces from poetic suggestion. One of the most famous and best known of this kind is the first "Peer Gynt" suite. Peer Gynt is a ne'er-do-weel in Ibsen's poem. He had a variety of adventures in the course of his unprofitable life, a few of which are alluded to in the suite here under consideration. For example, it begins with a prelude in 6/8 time—a movement somewhat pastoral in character, designated "Morgenstimmung," or, in English, "The Morning Mood." In this piece the flavor of Norwegian folk-song is only very faintly perceptible, if at all, and is perhaps more to be imagined from the somewhat unusual succession of chords than from anything very characteristic in the melody. The second piece of this suite, "The Death of Ase," is practically a funeral march of a sad and grief-laden character. Ase is the poor mother of Peer Gynt, who was left alone in her cottage on the mountains while her ne'er-do-weel son was off on his travels. At length death overtook her, desolate and alone, on the bleak mountain side. This is the story of the march. The third piece in this suite is entitled "Anitra's Dance." Anitra, in Ibsen's story, was a fascinating minx of the desert, who, when Peer Gynt was masquerading as the prophet, encountered him upon his travels and beguiled from him one gift after another until finally she took from him his rings, spare apparel, and finally his horse, and capered off with them like the winds of the morning, while the pseudo-prophet pursued his sandy and inglorious way on foot. In this music of Grieg we have simply the sparkling lightness of Anitra, the unaccustomed charm which induced her victim to yield so easily to her the things he most valued. To come down from the realm of poetry to the barren facts, it is simply a sort of quick waltz or mazurka, and the connection of Mr. Ibsen's Anitra with it is purely imaginary.

The fourth of these tone pictures is entitled "In the Hall of the Mountain King." It relates to an episode in Peer Gynt's life when, in exploring the mountain, he came upon one of the original owners of the country, quite in the manner that happened later to Rip Van Winkle in the Catskills of New York. The gnome took him into the cavern in the mountain where his people had their home, and it is the queer and uncanny music of these humorous and prankish people that Grieg has brought out in this closing movement of the suite. It is a rapid, dance-like movement which, in the orchestral arrangement, is extremely grotesque in the tone coloring; even on the piano, when sufficiently well done, much of this quality appertains to it.

More closely examined, this suite of Grieg's has a certain resemblance to a sonata. The first movement is somewhat elaborately worked out, the second movement a slow one, the third in the manner of a scherzo, and the fourth a sort of grotesque finale. The order of the keys, however, is different from what would be considered correct in a sonata. The first piece is in the key of E major, the funeral march in B minor, Anitra's dance in A minor, and the finale in B minor again—the whole very pleasing and poetic.

In the collection of pieces called "Aus dem Volksleben," or "Sketches of Norwegian Life," the national coloring is still more marked. This work contains three pieces, the first entitled "On the Mountain," the second a "Norwegian Bridal Procession," and the third "Carnival." "On the Mountain," after an opening of a soft chord or open fifth in A minor, commences with a bass melody in unison, as if played by basses and 'cellos. The rhythm is that of a strongly-marked peasant dance, as is shown by the emphatic half-note at the end of the phrase, as if here the peasant put down his foot solidly. In the sixth measure of this melody another Norwegian peculiarity appears in the minor seventh of the key. This melody, after having been delivered in unison by the basses, is taken up by the sopranos and continued with accompaniment. Later on a soft and rather sweet middle piece in A major comes in, after which the first idea returns with a coda.

The "Norwegian Bridal Procession" is extremely well known. It is a very pretty light march which, when well done, is capable of very charming effect. The "Carnival" is a very sprightly presto, full of hurry and excitement, with occasional moments of softer suggestion, the whole making very considerable demands upon the skill of the player. In the coda the whole work is brought together again as one, since the leading motives of all the parts here occur and intermingle one with the other.

One of the most strongly worked out of the lighter works of Grieg is the "Holberg" suite, the name being derived from that of the famous Danish-Norwegian poet, who lived about the time of Bach. This opens with a "Praeludium," followed by a "Sarabande" and "Gavotte"; the whole ends with a "Rigaudon." This work has very much more the character of a modern sonata than some that bear the name, but, avoiding the name sonata, it is able to go its own way in any form of originality which pleased the composer. The prelude is a musical idea worked out with great bravura, and when well done it makes an excellent effect. There is no particular story suggested in it, any more than in the first prelude of Bach. The second movement, the Sarabande, has a great deal of the peculiar pathos of Grieg. It should be played as if it were being done by a string quartet, as legato and sympathetically as possible. The Gavotte, again, is a charming example of modern antique, short and pleasing. The fourth movement, an "air," is beautifully done, and the last, the Rigaudon, in G major, a very pleasing and sprightly dance effect. This work has less of the distinctly Norwegian character perhaps than many of the earlier ones of Grieg, and it is more seriously worked out in some respects, and therefore extremely satisfactory.

In some of the earlier and smaller works of Grieg the national traits appear, while in others nothing of this sort is to be observed. For example, in the collection entitled "Lyric Pieces for the Piano," Opus 12, there are a charming arietta, a pretty little waltz, a very serious fanciful piece called "Wachterlied," or the song of the watchers in Shakspere's "Macbeth," an elfin dance, a curious peasant mazurka, a quick Norwegian dance, an album-leaf, and a song of the Fatherland. Here are eight little pieces, all comprised within the compass of eight pages. In point of difficulty no one exceeds the fourth grade, yet they are little poems that the greatest artist could play with pleasure.

Perhaps, on the whole, the songs of Grieg show his remarkable talent in its most favorable light, and for this purpose those in the first Grieg Album of Schirmer are as good as any. Accordingly, it is from this that the selections of the illustrative programs are taken. For low voice, "Sunset" and the "Cradle Song" are both very delightful, the latter particularly so. The former might be sung by baritone, but the latter requires an alto. Yet another song for low voice, which would indeed be better for a baritone than alto, is "The Poet's Last Song," a noble lyric of elevated sentiment. For high voice, "Good Morning" and "Thanks for Thy Hand" are both unusually fine songs.

No doubt other examples equally good are to be found in other works of Grieg, of which the house of G. Schirmer publishes four volumes, which, being in the Schirmer Edition, are sold at moderate prices. From these, should it be more convenient, other selections could be made.

CHAPTER IV.

RUBINSTEIN AND TSCHAIKOWSKY.

ANTON RUBINSTEIN.

For the purposes of the musical amateur and pianist, the two most important of the well-established Russian composers are Rubinstein and Tschaikowsky. It is by no means easy to make up a satisfactory half-program from either composer, and this without in any way disparaging their remarkable genius, which had personal qualities of a very marked character and a richness of musical inspiration in certain directions rarely surpassed. But in both these masters there is an element which is peculiarly Russian; a fondness for force as such, and for stormy passion. Moreover, both composers have in their nature intense contradictions, which render it extremely difficult to compile a short list of pieces in any way satisfactorily representing their individualities.

Anton Rubinstein, as is well known, was one of the most distinguished piano virtuosi who hay appeared since Liszt. He was born, November 28, 1830, at a place called Wechwotynez, and died at Peterhof, near St. Petersburg, November 20, 1894. Soon after his birth his parents settled in Moscow, where his father had a pencil factory. Rubinstein's mother was very musical, and from her he received his earliest instruction, up to his seventh year, when he became a pupil of a local musician named Villoing, who was his only teacher. In 1840 he appeared in Paris, whither his teacher had preceded him, and his talent was fully recognized by the highest authorities, Liszt among others. In compliance with a suggestion of Liszt, he went to Germany to complete his studies, but first undertook a concert tour through Holland, England, Scandinavia, and Germany. In 1844 Rubinstein's parents removed to Berlin in order to give Anton and his younger brother Nicolas a musical education, and the boys became pupils of Dehn, the celebrated contrapuntist. When Anton was about sixteen years old his father's illness recalled the mother to St. Petersburg, and the young musician was left to provide for himself as best he could by giving lessons and by concert engagements, which were very few. In his autobiography he has narrated the dreadful straits to which he was reduced, nearly dying of starvation, and laying the foundation of gastric trouble which lasted him all his life long. In 1848 he settled again at St. Petersburg, where he was so fortunate as to win the patronage of the Grand Duchess Helene. Here he wrote several operas, of which "Dimitri Donskoi" was produced in 1852, and has been performed many times since. In 1863 he founded the Conservatory of St. Petersburg, and remained its director five years. Meanwhile his fame had become very much established as a pianist, through his concert tours in various parts of Europe, and in 1872-1873 he visited America and made a very successful concert tour, a part of which was in association with Theodore Thomas' orchestra. The season in America netted him something less than $60,000, but the tour was a great burden to him in many ways, and after returning to St. Petersburg he resolutely declined most munificent offers to return again to America. He received many favors from the Imperial family of Russia, having been made Imperial Russian Councillor of State and a Knight of the Russian Order of Merit; but after 1890 he declined all public offices, and resided for some years in Dresden.

As a pianist Rubinstein was one of the most remarkable that the history of the instrument has known. He had a beautiful touch, enormous power, and great delicacy. Being of an emotional nature, he sometimes played like an angel, but at other times quite the reverse. It is notorious of him that in the warmth of public performance, false notes were always liable to occur. Yet in spite of them the playing was so essentially musical and genial that it used to be said that the public would rather hear Rubinstein play false notes than hear BÜlow play none but right ones.

Rubinstein composed in every department of music. Besides several operas written for the regular theater, he originated a sort of biblical drama, which was, in fact, an oratorio designed to be staged and acted; in other words, a biblical opera. Of Israelitish race, the stories of the Old Testament appealed to him with intense force, and his "Tower of Babel," "The Maccabees," "Sulamith," "Paradise Lost," and, later, "Christus," were very important and interesting works.

He wrote six symphonies, one of which, the famous "Ocean Symphony," was lengthened out from time to time by supplementary movements, so that, at last accounts, it has seven movements, all of which are sometimes played. He wrote a large amount of chamber music and a great many piano pieces of every sort. As a composer for the piano he was extremely unequal. In the vast volume of his works will be found an immense amount of noisy, stormy, unsatisfactory music. Yet many of these works, which as wholes are repugnant to almost every person of good taste, contain beautiful ideas which with a different treatment might have given rise to extremely beautiful productions. He is most successful in his smaller creations, such as the Barcarolle, one or two numbers of the series of portraits called Kamennoi-Ostrow, and that famous Staccato Study. He wrote a large number of songs, some of which, upon Russian subjects, are in queer minor scales. Many of them are extremely beautiful.

PETER ILITSCH TSCHAIKOVSKY.

Peter Ilitsch Tschaikowsky, all things considered, was the most important and artistically satisfactory composer of the Russian school. He was born December 25, 1840, and died November 5, 1893, at St. Petersburg. He studied law and entered the Government service, but, showing a marked inclination for music, at the advice of Rubinstein he entered the conservatory as a pupil when he was already eighteen or nineteen years of age. Such was his success in his new field that within a few years he was made professor of harmony in the school, a position which he retained for eleven years. From that time he devoted himself entirely to composition. In his earliest tendencies he was extremely Italian, with a fondness for sweet and sensuous melodies with simple harmonies. Later on he developed a more virile vein, and Riemann well says of him that he "was a highly gifted, true musician, but at the same time a good Russian; hence are found in his works thoughts of almost maidenly delicacy and sentiment and of the most refined construction; yet, side by side with them, others of semi-Asiatic roughness and brutality."

Owing to his having resided at times in Switzerland, Italy, etc., his works were quite soon recognized and played, and the University of Cambridge in 1893 conferred on him the honorary degree of Doctor of Music.

Tschaikowsky was the composer of eleven operas, the first having been produced in 1869 and the last in 1893. All of these, as I understand, were performed, and several of them are standard favorites in the Russian repertory, the most important, perhaps, being "Eugen Onegin," which was also produced at Hamburg in 1892. He wrote six symphonies, of which the last, the so-called "Pathetique," was completed shortly before his death. The Fifth Symphony is a more popular and commanding musical work than any other of its class written since Beethoven. According to the idea of Mr. Theodore Thomas, it is too emotional and dramatic for a symphony; but it is extremely powerful and beautiful music, and the world has recognized it and takes pleasure in paying it honor. Among the most satisfactory of the Tschaikowsky compositions are the songs, which are among the most impassioned and beautiful of recent years; the melodies are flowing and thoroughly vocal, while the harmonies have that singular originality and heart-searching fervor of which Tschaikowsky was the greatest exponent. Many of his orchestral works have been cut for the Aeolian, and persons possessing that convenient instrument can easily explore the treasures of them.

His piano compositions present a very curious contradiction; while the composer produced in one instance a concerto for piano and orchestra, in B-flat minor, which contains extremely strongly marked and productive themes worked out exquisitely for the piano and for the orchestra, his works for piano solo are generally not altogether satisfactory. Possibly this may be due to innovations of style and technic which later will become easy to the players; but at present an easy piece by Tschaikowsky requires more or less preparation. The following program, on the whole, seems to represent his peculiarities with some success:

Excellent four-hand arrangements are to be had of all the orchestral works by Rubinstein and Tschaikowsky. Address the publishers of this work for particulars.

CHAPTER V.

THE LATER ROMANTICISTS.

Among the numerous composers of Germany in recent times, of whom there are a very large number worthy of special notice, there are four who, by reason of their personal qualities and the general directions in which they have expressed their talent, demand special attention. Their names are Adolf Jensen, Xaver Scharwenka, Moritz Moszkowski, and I. J. Paderewski. As will be noticed from the names, three of these artists are Polish in nationality and stock.

Adolf Jensen (born at KÖnigsburg, January 12, 1837; died January 23, 1879) was mainly a self-taught composer, inasmuch as he had only two years' instruction. Nevertheless, at the age of twenty he was sufficiently advanced to be appointed conductor of the orchestra at Posen. Afterward he lived in Russia, and at Copenhagen, and was finally back as teacher in the school of Tausig, in Berlin. Very soon afterward, however, he contracted a pulmonary disease, which was the cause of his death.

Jensen was a very prolific composer in many departments, but especially brilliant as a song writer and as a composer of romantic pieces for the pianoforte. As a song writer, Riemann considers him the legitimate successor of Schumann; and among the hundreds of songs which he produced are many of very great beauty. His piano pieces are elegantly written,—somewhat Schumannesque in point of style, although not nearly so rugged and much more fluent,—and the pieces on the program below give a sufficiently fair idea of the general features of his style in this department. The selection of songs may, perhaps, be left to the convenience and taste of the singers, since it is impossible to designate any two or three songs of his which so fully illustrate his capacity as to be held up as models of all the rest.

The second upon the list is Xaver Scharwenka, born at Samper, January 6, 1850. He was educated at the Kullak School, in Berlin, and at the age of eighteen was appointed teacher in Kullak's Academy. His first concert appearance was made at the age of nineteen in the Sing-Akademie, with great success, and his reputation as a distinguished and accomplished player was almost immediately established, and was strengthened by numerous appearances for years. In 1881 he opened in Berlin the Scharwenka Conservatory, which is still in existence, his older brother, Philip, upholding there the family name.

Scharwenka made a very marked impression on the musical world by his earlier compositions, an impression which perhaps has not been fully reinforced by some of his later works, which seem, somehow, to be wanting in those qualities of spontaneity and innate grace of style which distinguished the earlier pieces. The best work from his pen, undoubtedly, is the first concerto for piano, which is one of the cleverest works in this department of recent years. He is the author of a large amount of chamber music and pieces of different sorts. The most popular of all his compositions is the well-known "Polish Dances." One of the most meritorious is the theme and variations on the program below.

I. J. Paderewski, the famous piano virtuoso, is so well known that particulars are, perhaps, not necessary in his case. He was born November 6, 1859, at Polodien. He has written a considerable number of pieces for the piano and for chamber instruments, and a little for orchestra. His music is melodious and sentimental, occasionally brilliant. Opinions differ very much in regard to the essential originality of his melody, numerous resemblances existing between his successful pieces and others which have been popular some time earlier. At any rate, he is an interesting personality, with a certain natural grace and style which entitle him to consideration. The most highly esteemed of his compositions are the three upon the list below, although no one of the pieces of his which attained American popularity is here included.

The most distinguished of this entire group is Moritz Moszkowski, the well-known composer and pianist, who was born August 23, 1854, at Breslau, the son of a Polish father. He had his early musical training at Breslau and Dresden, and later at Berlin, where for many years he has been established as a teacher. He early attracted attention as a pianist, and very soon also began to be distinguished as a composer. He has produced a large number of piano pieces of various sorts, many compositions for orchestra, songs, etc. His music is melodious and artistic, although, as a rule, of no great depth. Among the more attractive of his works are the pieces on the present list. His fascinating little Serenata in D major for piano will be remembered, as well as a number of more ad captandum pieces which he has turned out at different times.

CHAPTER VI.

GOTTSCHALK AND MASON.

Owing to the composite character of our American civilization, in which so many different nationalities are mingled, several of which maintain as long as possible their own language and customs, there is a certain crudity in the national life and a want of ripeness which as yet has prevented the development of what properly can be called an American school of musical composition. Almost all our composers have been educated in Germany, many of them at Leipsic, and their compositions do not differ in a striking degree from those of good German composers. Minor traits of individuality and differences of imaginative scope are noticeable and afford marks of distinction; but, essentially considered, there has been very little music composed in this country which is at the same time good and so characteristically American that it could not have been produced under any other circumstances. Nevertheless, there have been at least two American composers who are characteristically American and who could not have been produced under any different circumstances; and a number of others in whom the American traits are well defined.

The two American composers of original and characteristic genius are the late Louis Moreau Gottschalk and the famous march king, John Philip Sousa. As the compositions of Mr. Sousa have shown themselves able to take care of themselves, and as his popularity needs no assistance from this quarter, I will consider his case first, and say that in this son of an Italian father and a German mother, born and raised in the city of Washington, D. C., we have a thoroughly characteristic American, in whom different heredities mingle in a curious way and give rise to a certain originality of temperament and style.

While Mr. Sousa, from his earlier career, and probably by force of his temperament, has naturally taken the position of a popular composer, he has done so almost entirely in consequence of the inherently popular character of the music he has turned out, which, for striking rhythm and melodic piquancy, has taken the ear not alone of the United States but of the whole world, his marches being widely played in all foreign countries, where they are received with the liveliest demonstrations of approval. In fact, very much the same kind of mild excitement that a chic American girl awakens in a foreign reception, the band music of Sousa affords to the travel-worn palates of European bandmasters. It stirs them up and gives them a new sensation. It is a mistake, therefore, to speak of this artist in terms implying an unwillingness to classify him among serious composers. He is entitled to a very honorable place among those who have loved their fellow-men so well that they have made them feel good.

LOUIS MOREAU GOTTSCHALK.

In the year 1829 our two first American pianists were born: Louis Moreau Gottschalk in New Orleans, and William Mason in Boston. The heredity, environment, and training of these two men were as different as it is possible to imagine. Gottschalk was the son of a German who came to New Orleans by way of England, and in this country married a French woman. New Orleans at that time was practically a French city, and the French language was very largely spoken in the family life. The boy, Louis Moreau Gottschalk, showed talent for music at the earliest possible age, and made a number of public appearances of a very interesting and creditable kind, and at the age of thirteen, when he was sent to Paris to go on with his education, he had already established quite a little reputation. In Paris he was educated under the late Charles HallÉ and Stamaty, and in 1844, at the age of fifteen, he produced his first two works, called ballads, "Ossian" and "The Dance of the Shades." His concert career in Europe began in 1846, when he was seventeen years of age, and he gave a series of concerts at the Italian Opera in Paris in which he was associated with the celebrated Hector Berlioz.

He made a genuine furor as pianist, and Berlioz, in charmingly turned phrases, speaks of him as follows:

"Gottschalk is one of the very small number who possess all the different elements of a consummate pianist—all the faculties which surround him with an irresistible prestige and give him a sovereign power. He is an accomplished musician—he knows just how far fancy may be indulged in expression. He knows the limits beyond which any liberties taken with the rhythm produce only confusion and discord, and upon these limits he never encroaches. There is an exquisite grace in his manner of phrasing sweet melodies and throwing off light touches from the higher keys. The boldness and brilliancy and originality of his play at once dazzle and astonish, and the infantile naÏvetÉ of his smiling caprices, the charming simplicity with which he renders simple things, seem to belong to another individuality distinct from that which marks his thundering energy. Thus the success of M. Gottschalk before an audience of musical cultivation is immense."

His first American tour was made in 1853-54. Then ensued a time of travel in the West Indies, but in 1862 he was back in New York again, and his American tours lasted until 1869, when he went to South America, where he died at the comparatively early age of forty.

There is a disposition at the present time to undervalue the work of Gottschalk. He was a melodist pure and simple, and his distinction from an American standpoint consists in his having given a new note to his music by availing himself of the rhythms and characteristic cadences of negro, creole, and Spanish nationalities in the southern United States and Central America. At the present time of the pianistic day, when very little attracts attention unless it is very difficult, it seems incredible that works so simple in their nature as those of Gottschalk could have attracted the attention they did; but there is more in this simplicity than at first sight appears, even if we admit that from a critical standpoint the introductions and endings are entirely too long for the matter they contain. Gottschalk himself had a way of doing them which made them seem extremely significant, and when he came to the melody itself it was played with such a delicacy and such a masterly touch that it seized the attention and concentrated the interest to a remarkable degree. Harmonically considered, almost all his works are within rather narrow limits, but as compared with the French composers of the day when his works made so much furor in Paris, Gottschalk has nothing to apologize for, since his music has a charm and a distinction of originality superior to almost all of that time or the present.

Many of the things with which Gottschalk made a great effect in his concert tours would not have been composed if he had lived thirty or forty years later. I mean now his four-hand arrangements of the overtures to "William Tell" and "Oberon." These are extremely brilliant and sensational arrangements, and are well worthy the attention of boarding-schools and clubs desiring something out of the ordinary way. It was his custom, in his concerts, to play the upper part himself while the best available local performer played the other part. This gave most of the melody and all of the brilliant work to the masterly fingers of the pianist himself.

The poetic thread or suggestion underlying many of his pieces is very slight. Nevertheless, it is not without value. Take, for instance, the beautiful "Marche de Nuit," a piece which opens with six lines of introduction, amounting practically to an excellent study of crescendo, the idea being to show the effect of the march-music in the extreme distance and its gradual approach. At length we come to the march itself, and it is a pleasant and agreeable melody, and the difficulty of the whole is no more than is now well within the powers of a pupil in the early fifth grade. The famous "Last Hope" is well known to all, and is one of the most persistent melodies which any American composer has produced in instrumental music. The introduction and the coda are both much too long, and can only be saved by a certain distinction in the manner of performing them. Mr. Wolfsohn said that such was the charm of Gottschalk's personality and touch that everything he played impressed itself and you remembered it a very long time. Dr. Mason tells me that in these pianissimo runs in alt, which abound in so many of his works, Gottschalk's fingers were like little steel hammers, the tone being perfectly clear and like a bell, but not pianissimo in the true sense of the term.

It seems puerile now that in his concerts Gottschalk could have made an effect with his famous piece "The Banjo," which is a very realistic transcription of a negro banjo performance, the banjo effect on the piano, in his case, I think, having been accomplished by the touch, whereas many others find themselves obliged to lay a sheet of music on the strings in order to impart to the vibrations the peculiar twang of the original.

Another and more favorable example of his talent is in the beautiful "Slumber Song," which can be had for voice or for piano alone. There is another class of pieces by Gottschalk which seem very peculiar at the present time. They are the rather loud and somewhat difficult concert fantasies called the "Bamboula," or "Negro Dance," and "Jerusalem," the latter being made upon certain melodies in Verdi's "I Lombardi." Another piece of his which made a great effect in his concerts and was a general favorite of students was the "Aeolian Murmurs," a pleasant melody with a lot of fine pianissimo work to represent the murmurs. Speaking of the misleading effect of the Gottschalk performances, I will mention that the well-known piece, "The Dying Poet," was played by him many and many a time in public, to the great pleasure of the audience; yet before we gather up stones to throw at the American concert audiences of the early '60's, let us not forget that within the past few years audiences have shown themselves equally vulnerable to the charm of Paderewski's "Minuet," a work in no respect superior to the slightest of our American pianist. In this case, as in the former, it is a question of the personality and appealing nature of the performer.

WILLIAM MASON.

The other American pianist born in the year 1829 had a totally different heredity, environment, and education. William Mason also showed his talent at an early age, and was seriously taught the piano under the direction of his father, the late very distinguished and eminent Dr. Lowell Mason, who at that time and for about twenty years later exerted a most commanding influence in Boston and the country at large. Mason's advance was so rapid that by the time he was thirteen or fourteen, or a little later, he appeared in public with orchestra in Boston, playing the Mendelssohn G minor concerto, and I think he had played the Weber "ConcertstÜck." In the season of 1846 and 1847 he played the piano part in the chamber concerts given by the Harvard Musical Association. In 1849 he went to Leipsic and became a pupil in theory of the distinguished Moritz Hauptmann. Upon Hauptmann's death he went to Prague for a year with Dreyschock, and then to Liszt at Weimar. This was in 1851, or thereabouts, and here he remained some time. Returning to America in 1854 he removed to New York, and took the commanding position which he has almost ever since occupied as teacher and as concert pianist. While there are traces of American training in the musical compositions of Dr. Mason, these traces are very few, the general character of his work being distinctly German. His musical talent was strong upon the harmonic side, but upon the melodic side his imagination was not so free. He has produced several volumes of compositions, probably about one hundred in all, almost every one being elegantly written and well made, and many of them of a classical elegance of style. His reputation as a composer has suffered from his limiting his work always to the field of the salon, and especially to the piano. I believe he has never composed an original song, although he has arranged several which have been very useful indeed. It is as a composer for the piano that we have to speak of him.

The most sensational of the Mason pieces is his famous "Silver Spring," which was composed shortly after the late Scandinavian pianist, Haberbier, had visited Weimar and had played many brilliant effects of running work upon the piano, in which the hands were used "inter-locking," as it is called; that is, the left hand taking now and then one or two notes of the run. This method of dividing up a run has the effect of imparting a certain amount of arm element to the touch, whereby the tone becomes considerably heavier and more brilliant. It was thought at Weimar at that time that piano playing would very likely take this direction in future, and that the day of running work in the fingers of one hand alone had practically passed. Accordingly, Mason experimented in these new effects which Haberbier had suggested, and worked out this piece, "The Silver Spring." As he told me, he first had to find out an accompaniment figure which pleased him, and then to discover in which chords it would go most easily, because the location of the black keys with reference to the white plays a very important part when the hand has to fall in its place in rapid motion. When he had ascertained these points, he then had to consider what key would afford the greatest number of chords of this character, and so at last he came to the key of A and the chords he has in "The Silver Spring." When he had arrived at this point it was necessary to provide a melody, and, as the melody had to fit the accompaniment, the melody was made last, and in this way he arrived at the seeming "impromptu" of "The Silver Spring." This is his own story to me many years ago, and it may have had a humorous exaggeration in it, not to be taken too seriously. I mention it because somewhere about the same time when Mason told it to me I had been talking with Dudley Buck one day, and we were speaking of Mason with very great admiration, especially for the elegance of his style as illustrated in some of his then recently composed works, such as his "Cradle Song," his two impromptus, "At Evening" and "In the Morning," his "Romance Étude" and the like, and Buck said, "If Mason ever had an inspiration it was in that beautiful melody in 'The Silver Spring.' I have arranged a church tune from it and my choir sings it with never failing delight. It will not do to undervalue Mason's gift for melody when he has produced a piece like that."

With reference to the trend of piano playing in the direction of this interlocking work, there were several years when it looked as if the Haberbier suggestions would bear no fruit, but latterly in the Tschaikowsky concerto, to some extent, and in the Schytte concerto in C-sharp minor, to a very great extent, the interlocking principle is employed.

One of the first of Mason's pieces which attained anything like persistent popularity was the "Danse Rustique," which, by the way, is one of the best finger studies for piano students in the fourth grade of which I have any knowledge. It is one of those pieces which can always be learned even by a pupil who is not very smart, provided he will practise it carefully and earnestly enough. It is a piece which can not be played well without very careful practice, and which, when well played, produces a good effect. Hence it has a remarkable pedagogic value if the teacher knows when to put it in and how to handle it when it is once there. While this piece makes no very important figure in the esthetic world, it is by no means a composition to be treated with disrespect. There is a great deal of energy in it and the second subject is very pleasing indeed, and the modulating work in the middle of the piece, where the elaboration would naturally stand in a serious work, is of considerable range and ingenuity, and thoroughly characteristic of the author.

One who wishes to know Mason should study some of the lighter aspects of his productions; and first of these, since it is more nearly related to what I have just now been mentioning, is the "Romance Étude" in G minor. This is a pretty melody, often in thirds, in G minor, lying in the convenient soprano range of the piano. Long runs cross this melody, in Thalbergian manner, from one end of the keyboard to the other, and at times the scale business gives place to charming arpeggios, figures which transfer themselves from one hand to the other. The scale is a curious minor scale with a sharp fourth, and is therefore anything but inviting to the fingers at first. The effect of the whole, when well played, is very charming, although it is more the effect of a study than of a poem.

Still lighter in their characteristics are his charming and half-jocose variations on the old French air, "Ah vous dirais-je maman," better known in school circles of my time as "Haste thee, winter, haste away." There is a very playful effect in these variations, and in the title Mason calls them "Variations Grotesques"; but when he sent a copy to Liszt, that amiable critic replied that the word "grotesque" had no place in piano playing—that they should properly be called jocose, or something of that sort.

Thoroughly interesting in every way is the remarkable series of duets for teacher and pupil. Here are eight little nursery melodies which at the time these variations were composed were among the best known in this field, and the pupil, supposed to be a small child, plays them generally with one hand alone, or with both hands in octaves, very rarely in parts. The teacher, meanwhile, adds the harmonies, and wonderfully interesting and highly diversified harmonies they are. And in the same line with these are two other pieces which were originally written for the Mason and Hoadley Method for beginners: a march in which the pupil plays under the five fingers entirely, while the teacher adds the most strange and diversified harmonies, and a waltz in which the pupil still has nothing more than five-finger positions to deal with. I consider these pieces superior to anything of this kind that I have ever seen in point of cleverness and harmonic wit.

It would be a mistake, however, to dismiss the work of Dr. Mason with these half-jocose illustrations of his genius. He has a very elegantly written "Berceuse" which if very well done produces a lovely effect. A trifle more flexibility in the melody would have been an advantage, but it is a beautifully made piece and well worthy attention. He has also a ballad of very considerable dramatic force, and I have always been fond of his "Reverie Poetique," which is very much in the style of Henselt. A melody without a great range, but running in two parts upon rather diversified harmonies, constitutes the first part of this piece, and it is afterward developed or varied in double notes, which are principally sixths, in a very lovely manner. The only drawback, aside from the difficulty of playing it well, is the length to which it is spun out. Undoubtedly it is a little monotonous, owing to the same motive coming over so many times. On the other hand, however, it pretends at the start to be nothing more than a poetic "reverie," and it has the character of a reverie—something which dwells and muses and perhaps never arrives. I mentioned, before, two reveries called "In the Morning" and "At Evening." The first of these is a very clever study, and both are well worth studying.

The works of both these composers have a distinct and pronounced pedagogic value, but in wholly different directions, and both appeal principally to American pianists. The Gottschalk pieces now are mainly used in the earlier stages of instruction for forming good melody habits. They appeal to the poetic sensibility of the players who as yet are hardly ready for Chopin or any of the more elaborate composers. Dr. Mason's works, especially those I have here mentioned, appeal upon the opposite side to the harmonic sense, and to the sense of working out a theme with good consistency and persistency. While the Gottschalk pieces improve the style of melody and the sparkle of the playing, the Mason pieces conduce to system and regularity in study and to a serious and careful treatment of the left-hand part as well as the right, and they have in them some of that quality which belongs to nearly all the works of Bach, when undertaken by students: they promote seriousness and musical feeling.

Hence I propose the following program as on the whole affording a good idea of the works of these composers:

CHAPTER VII.

MACDOWELL.

EDWARD ALEXANDER MACDOWELL.

By general consent of music lovers and connoisseurs, Mr. Edward Alexander MacDowell, or Prof. MacDowell as he should now be called, is the most finished and accomplished writer for the pianoforte that we have. Mr. MacDowell was born in New York on the 18th of December, 1861, and after having some instruction from his mother, who was a good musician, he received lessons for a while from Teresa Carreno. In 1877 he went to Paris and became a pupil of Marmontel and Savard. Later on he went to Frankfort-on-the-Main, where he studied composition with the late Joachim Raff and piano playing with Carl Heymann. In this manner five years of European student-life passed, and in 1888 he was made piano teacher at the Darmstadt Conservatory; he remained there only one year, in 1882 going to Weisbaden, where his position was a very distinguished one. In 1888 he returned to America and located in Boston, where he immediately succeeded to an extremely fine clientele. In Boston Mr. MacDowell naturally found very congenial surroundings. He lived on West Cedar Street, a few doors from Arthur Foote, well down on the slopes of Beacon Hill, a short distance from the Common and not very far from Charles Street. The aristocratic desirability of this particular location in Boston is measured by its remoteness from street cars and all means of public transit. This, however, is a mere detail. In 1896 Mr. MacDowell was appointed professor of music at Columbia University, after negotiations extending over several months.

It is impossible to read over the list of Mr. MacDowell's published works without realizing at once that here we have a composer of no small fertility of idea and great seriousness and ambition of purpose. The list from which I take the following particulars is, no doubt, incomplete, since it reaches only to opus 50, which work was published in 1895. But the list contains four symphonic poems for orchestra, the First Suite, scored for orchestra, and the Second, or "Indian" Suite,—in all, six large works for orchestra. There are two concertos for pianoforte and orchestra, both of which have been played very successfully, the first one many times over by Mme. Carreno and by Mr. MacDowell himself. There is a romance for 'cello and orchestra; two numbers of four-hand pieces, originally so composed; twelve books of songs; and quite a long list of pieces for the pianoforte.

To take the more important of the latter, there are, first, twelve studies, opus 39, which are of various lengths, from two to six pages each; in part fancy pieces for the piano, and in part intended to serve as exercises in different styles of playing. Then there are twelve virtuoso studies, opus 46, much more difficult than the preceding and very interesting and marked in their characteristics. There are six Idylles, opus 28, and quite a number of other small pieces for piano, of no great ambition, but all poetic and seriously done. The most popular of the purely pianoforte pieces, perhaps, is the "Witches' Dance," which has the advantage of being a most excellent finger study. The only drawback to this piece is the rather commonplace character of the melody which serves as middle piece. This, however, is somewhat concealed by the cleverness of the treatment.

Of all the piano works, the three upon which Mr. MacDowell's reputation in the higher musical circles will rest are his First Suite and his two sonatas, the one called "Tragic," the other "Heroic." The First Suite dates from the time when he was with Raff at Frankfort, and it was published in Germany by Breitkopf and Hartel. It is perhaps modeled somewhat on a suite by Raff. The first movement, praeludium, is quite in the old style at first. Presently, a flowing melody in the bass begins against a pianissimo, arpeggiated accompaniment in the right hand, with a very charming and thoroughly pianistic effect, and the praeludium is carried through on this motive. The second movement, presto, is practically a scherzo with a strong flavor of fugue at the beginning. It is very fully developed, extending to eight pages. Then follows the slow movement, andantino and allegretto, bearing a motto, "Per arnica silentia lunae" (Virgil); and "by the friendly silence of the moon" the sweet cantilena goes on, now for soprano, now for tenor. The middle piece is of a more dramatic character perhaps. This is followed by an intermezzo, like a quick minuet, which is very successful; and this in turn by a rhapsody, which bears a motto from Dante's "Inferno," "Those who enter here leave hope behind"—surely not a very inviting suggestion to the student who takes it for the first time. Fortunately the period when hope forsakes the reader is short, being really of only one page, after which a sort of mitigated grief ensues, and in another page this movement ends. Then follows the finale—a fugue in E major, well made and effective but by no means easy to play. At the end of the fugue there is a coda of a stormy character.

This suite, as a whole, is a very brilliant piano piece, and also difficult to play; but it is musical and well done and therefore worth playing.

The latest of his large works in a serious form is the second sonata, called the "EroÏca." This is designated by the composer as a "flower from the realm of King Arthur," and it is dedicated to Dr. William Mason. Beginning very seriously and slowly, it almost immediately rises to intense vigor, which, after a while, gives place to a second subject—a song-melody in the folk-tone; and out of these two ingredients—or three, more properly (the motive of the first page, the second page, and the song-form already noticed)—the movement is carried to completion. It is very difficult to play, but when well done is effective and serious. The second movement is a very playful scherzo, which is designated as elf-like—as light and swift as possible. The third movement is designated "tenderly, longingly, yet with passion"; the hero is now in love, very much so; his being is stirred to its utmost core; his rhythm is shaken up so that two's and three's intermingle in the most inviting confusion; and his harmonic foundations are also subjected to fast and loose experiences very trying to the outsider who would represent all this inner commotion. Nevertheless the movement, when well done, is very lovely. The finale is designated "fiercely and very fast"—a very strong and tumultuous movement.

Throughout his career as a composer Mr. MacDowell has placed great importance upon the advantage a composer gains from a poetic standpoint or conception. He has often maintained that one could write better music if inspired by poetry than when he merely gives rein to his musical fancy, as such; and that, in fact, the only salvation for the modern composer, and his only protection from falling into mere rhapsody, is in having a poetic story in mind to which the music should conform. Accordingly, in all these large works of Mr. MacDowell's, especially in the two sonatas, and perhaps even more so in the second than in the first, the transitions of mood in the music are very noticeable indeed, and the work needs to be played with a great deal of taste as well as mastership in order to prevent it from having a certain fragmentary effect. This, in the production of a composer so masterly in musical treatment as Mr. MacDowell, is rather curious, and I have never been able fully to account for it. The disposition to lean on poetic suggestion is very evident in the books of studies already mentioned. For instance, in the opus 46 there are such titles as "Wild Chase," "Elfin Dance," "March Wind"; and in the former book the "Dance of the Gnomes," "The Shadow Dance," "In the Forest"; in the opus 37, "By the Light of the Moon," "In the Hammock," "Dance Andalusian "; in the opus 32,—entitled "Four Little Poems,"—"The Eagle," "The Brook," "Moonshine," "Winter"; then, again, in the latest of Mr. MacDowell's works which I have seen—the "Woodland Sketches," opus 51—there are ten little pieces, with such titles as "To a Wild Rose," "Will o' the Wisp," "At an old Trysting Place," "In Autumn," "From an Indian Lodge," "To a Water Lily," "From 'Uncle Remus,'" "A Deserted Farm," "By a Meadow Brook," "Told at Sunset." These titles may or may not have been in the mind of the composer at the moment of producing the work. It is quite possible that a significant musical idea, upon being developed, suggested the name, and that the fanciful name was taken for the sake of the student. These "Woodland Sketches" in particular are very simple pieces indeed, rarely presenting difficulties beyond the fourth grade, and all of them musical.

Mr. MacDowell has also shared the opinion of many writers that something new is to be reached by the modern composer from the suggestion of characteristic folk-songs, and in his "Indian" Suite he has made use of themes derived from the North American Indians or suggested by some of their melodies. The "Indian" Suite is undoubtedly a very beautiful and poetic work for orchestra. I can not say that I find it better by reason of its barbarous themes, but the treatment of those themes has in it nothing that is barbarous, but, on the contrary, everything that is highly finished and polished, with a keen sense of the comely and well sounding.

On the whole, therefore, considering the mastery with which he has worked out his different pieces, and the characteristic and modern manner in which his poetical suggestions are realized upon the piano, we are obliged to take Mr. MacDowell very seriously, and to rank him among the first of writers at the present time. As he is still a young man, and has accepted the professorship of music at Columbia primarily for the purpose of having more leisure for composition, other and greater works ought to follow from his pen. I have been informed that he has in hand, or already finished, a symphony for full orchestra, and no doubt his portfolio contains a multitude of other pieces which as yet he is not ready to give to the world. Many of the songs which he has published are upon his own verses, and some of them are very beautiful. In fact, you will rarely find eight songs together so pleasing and well worth knowing in every way as the "Eight Songs" by Mr. MacDowell, opus 47.

At the same time, there is a certain amount of make-believe in these fantastic titles for piano pieces, which, after all, can be nothing else than more or less legitimate developments of certain musical motives, as such; and can be satisfactory only in proportion as the ideas are legitimately unfolded and adequately treated, and contrasted with other material. Even the marks of expression are arbitrary, a very amusing illustration of which I am able to give from my own experience. It happened some months ago that an out-of-town pupil, connected with a musical club, brought me a program of MacDowell's works which she had to play at one of the club meetings, and in the list was the difficult chord study entitled "March Wind." This was marked pianissimo. It is rather a difficult thing to bring down to smoothness, and I spent a great deal of time in getting it played softly, in order to represent the distance of the wind and the rise and fall of the intensity. A few days later Mr. MacDowell played a recital in Chicago, and among the other selections was this same "March Wind," which he played fortissimo throughout. When I saw him the next day I began, in that irreverent manner which critics and composers have with one another (for Mr. MacDowell was not yet a professor): "You're a fine fellow! To mark your own 'March Wind' pianissimo and then play it fortissimo. What's the good of my working two hours with a pupil to get it down fine when you upset everything by playing it in this tumultuous way?" To which Mr. MacDowell answered: "Did I mark that pianissimo? When I got ready to play it I could n't remember whether it was pianissimo or fortissimo, and I said, 'March Wind,' 'March Wind,' that must be very loud and roaring; and so I played it fortissimo."

But however this may be, it can be said of Mr. MacDowell that he has illustrated his talents as a composer in a wide variety of styles, and always in a delicate and finished manner. He is, therefore, a composer to be treated seriously, and to be looked up to as a master, with an expectation of even more beautiful and satisfactory works still to follow.

CHAPTER VIII.

ARTHUR FOOTE AND MRS. H. H. A. BEACH.

There is nothing especial in common between the composers here mentioned that they should be put together in one program, excepting the fact that they both live in Boston; nor, on the other hand, is there anything especially contrasting between them. For this reason I think it better to give the selections of the different composers separately, leaving the superintendent of the concert to arrange the program of selections in any order most pleasing to him.

ARTHUR FOOTE.

Arthur Foote was born of a good New England family at Salem, Mass., March 5, 1853. He pursued the usual course of a well-bred New England boy, passing successively through the district school and academy, and at length graduated at Harvard in 1874. He had already made considerable study of music, both upon instruments and in theory, and under the competent instruction of Mr. Stephen A. Emery had made considerable progress in composition.

He now entered seriously upon the study of music, with the intention of making it a life-long profession. His teachers were Mr. B. J. Lang, in organ and pianoforte playing, and Prof. J. K. Paine, in composition. In 1875, after examination, he received from Harvard the degree of A.M. in music. Since 1876 he has been engaged as a successful teacher of the pianoforte in Boston, and since 1878 has been organist of the First Unitarian Church in Boston. In daily work, as an interesting and stimulating instructor in art, Mr. Foote leads an honored life; but he is better known to the outside world by his compositions, which indicate talent of a high order. The range of them and the variety are alike remarkable.

Among his important compositions are to be mentioned an Impromptu (G minor); Gavotte (B minor); Mazurka (G minor); Opus 6, consisting of five pieces; Prelude and Nocturne (F minor and F major); Sarabande (G major); Petite Valse (for the left hand); Polonaise (D major) and Gavotte in C minor (Opus 8, No. 1); Eclogue (Opus 8, No. 2); Suite in D minor (Opus 15), containing Prelude and Fugue, Romance and Capriccio; Sarabande and Courante of J. S. Bach (transcribed); two Pianoforte Pedal Studies; Études Album, a collection of Études, selected and arranged in progressive order; and Additions to Buttshardt Method of Pianoforte Technic.

I do not find myself very well prepared to make a program of compositions of Mr. Foote which fully satisfies. The best I can do with the material I have is the following, which is offered to those needing it as a suggestion:

The pieces here listed will occupy about forty minutes in performance. All of this music is seriously intended, all is well done, and all musical. Naturally, the best pieces are the last, since the experienced composer, Mr. Bach, had already laid the foundation, and his music has had a longer time to ripen and grow a halo.

SONGS BY ARTHUR FOOTE.

In addition to the foregoing program of works by Mr. Arthur Foote, following is a selection of songs which can be confidently recommended as attractive and valuable additions to these illustrative programs, and as well worthy the widest possible currency on their own account:

"Into the silent land."
"O my love's like a red, red rose."
"If you become a nun, dear."
"A song from the Persian."
"In Picardie."
"O swallow, swallow, flying south."
"On the way to Kew."
"When icicles hang by the wall."
"Irish folk-song."
"I'm wearing awa'."
"Go, lovely rose."

The first one in the above list is a very lovely quartet for female voices—originally composed for funeral occasions—upon Longfellow's translation of the song by Silas. It is a very beautiful quartet. The "Song from the Persian" is a duet for soprano and alto or baritone, preferably baritone, of an unusual, but on the whole pleasing, character. "O my love's like a red, red rose" is very charming, indeed, but perhaps best of the entire list is the soprano song, "O swallow, swallow, flying south," which is dedicated to Mme. Lilian Blauvelt.

Several of these selections are to be had for a low voice or a high voice, but most of them are for mezzo-soprano or baritone. There is one for bass, "When icicles hang by the wall," and one for alto, "I'm wearing awa'," and of the collection as a whole, I say again, it is an honor to American art. They are songs that are extremely well worth knowing.

MRS. H. H. A. BEACH.

Mrs. H. H. A. Beach, whose maiden name was Amy Marcy Cheney, of Boston, was the daughter of a well-known singer and pianist. Her talent for music showed itself in extreme youth, and at the age of six her real study began. Among her teachers were Ernst Perabo, Carl Baerman, and Julius Hill. She is a pianist of accomplished powers and a composer of remarkable talent. It is told of her that on one occasion she played the Schumann concerto with the Boston Orchestra at a week's notice, in place of a soloist who had canceled an engagement at the last moment. On another occasion she played her own pianoforte concerto with the orchestra with splendid effect. Last year her "Gaelic Symphony," in E minor, was played in Boston and also in Brooklyn by the Boston Orchestra. Her instrumentation is said to be excellent and the work a very strong one.

Among the many clever compositions of Mrs. Beach's the following are perhaps the most suitable for our use:

Ballad for the pianoforte, dedicated to Mme. Fanny Bloomfield-Zeisler; a seriously made composition with a beautiful principal melody, cleverly developed, and a good deal of dramatic power in the working out of the middle part. A composition of considerable difficulty for the player, and also capable of very excellent effect when well done.

There are also four sketches—"In Autumn," "Dreaming," "Phantoms," "Fireflies." "In Autumn," a very sprightly composition in F-sharp minor, in a good 4/8 rhythm, capable of very charming effect. "Dreaming," a meditative sustained melody in the key of G-flat, resting upon a triplet motion in the middle part, with harmonies sensitively changing at unexpected places, capable of most beautiful effect; also an excellent study in cantabile. "Phantoms," a scherzo or quasi-mazurka, very sprightly and pleasing. "Fireflies," a very delightful study in thirds for the right hand, with novel and modern fingering; therefore extremely well adapted for study. This, when well done, must be very beautiful, but it is necessary that the thirds be played with the utmost lightness and equality. It is more difficult, and also more extended than either of the preceding, but extremely well worth attention.

There are also three interesting pieces not so difficult in their working out. First, there is a "Barcarolle" in G minor, opus 28, No. 1; a very attractive rhythm and an extremely attractive harmonic treatment. This is a piece to be played with pleasure by any amateur of taste. It is only of moderate difficulty, as, for instance, sixth grade. Perhaps a little less attractive, but more easy of execution, is the "Menuet Italien," No. 2 of the same opus as the preceding. This is remarkably well worked out, however. The third piece in the same opus is a waltz, "Dance of the Flowers," bright, sparkling, evanescent; clever for the piano, and attractive if well done.

Best of all, perhaps, is a "Romance for Violin and Piano," which is dedicated to Miss Maud Powell. This is a very delightful piece, and would make an admirable conclusion to a program. It requires good playing in all the parts.

With reference to these compositions by Mrs. Beach, it deserves to be said that they are not women's compositions. The musical spirit is unquestionable, the technic of developing ideas that of a well-trained artist, and the writing for the instrument that of an accomplished pianist. At the same time, Mrs. Beach makes no effort to be boisterous and to prove that she is a man by the brute force necessary to play her works. Unless I am very much mistaken, her music will have a much wider currency than it has yet received, because it deserves it.

CHAPTER IX.

MISCELLANEOUS PROGRAM BY AMERICAN COMPOSERS.

For the convenience of clubs and classes desiring programs not so difficult of performance and not confined to one or two composers, the following is offered, embracing examples from Messrs. Edgar S. Kelley, Wilson G. Smith, Homer A. Norris, E. R. Kroeger, Geo. W. Chadwick, and Mr. William Sherwood. All of these gentlemen have made thorough studies of composition and several of them have exercised themselves in the larger forms, including orchestral and chamber writing. This is particularly true of Messrs. Chadwick, Kroeger, and Kelley.

Mr. Edgar Stillman Kelley was born April 14, 1857. He is a native of Wisconsin, and was formerly a pupil of Mr. Clarence Eddy, after which he studied in Stuttgart. He has produced quite a large number of orchestral pieces but only a small number for the pianoforte alone. I believe that dramatic music is his main delight. He is also a lecturer upon musical subjects, bringing to his task a large amount of knowledge upon the subject and plenty of enthusiasm.

I have here only two examples of his work. The first is entitled the "The Flower Seekers," a very pretty and melodious scherzo, having a motto from Chaucer's "Court of Love":

"Fourth goeth al the court, both moste and leste,
To feche the flowers freshe, and branche and blome."

The second is entitled "Confluentia" and the motto upon it: "Here is the conflux of the Rhine and the Mosel. This led the Romans to call the city 'Confluentia.' These streams—which rise in regions so remote—are here united until they pass into the eternal sea beyond."—Hans van Brechnowski (David Rockwell).

It is a piece in nocturne style with a melodious voice coming in all sorts of forms, a little in the style of the well-known Schumann "Warum."

Mr. Wilson G. Smith is a native of Ohio, educated under Otto Singer in Cincinnati, and at Berlin. He is a pianist and composer and has published a very large number of pieces (something like 150) among which it is quite possible more attractive selections could be found than those upon the present program; still, these are the best I know of his. His work is light, melodious, and pleasant to play. The list from Mr. Smith comprises several very pleasant pieces. The "Valse Menuet," opus 43, No. 1; the "Reverie at the Piano," a sort of song without words; the second, "Polka Caprice," which is very bright and pleasant; and the "Marche Fantastique," opus 73, which is more brilliant and diversified in its style than the others.

Mr. Ernest Kroeger is a native of St. Louis and received his education there. He has written a large number of pieces for the piano (eighty or more), many songs, and quite a list of chamber and orchestral compositions.

I have here three Sonnets. The first one is in G minor, a sort of cheerful nocturne, with nice melody and good musicianship. There is a vein of melancholy about it. The next one, allegretto in B minor, is very charming, and the last one is the strongest of all, I think. If a stronger representation of Mr. Kroeger's art is desired, his first suite for the piano can be taken.

Mr. Emil Liebling is better known as a teacher and pianist than as a composer, but it has been his good fortune to win high commendation for the few works he has published. He made his studies in composition under the late Heinrich Dorn, the same who was the master of Schumann in composition—though this may be no more than a coincidence. Mr. Liebling, although born in Berlin, has resided in the United States for nearly thirty years. He is essentially American. The two Romances represent the most serious side of his work, in addition to which I have put on that very popular little scherzo, "Spring Song," and a very pleasing parlor waltz.

Mr. William Sherwood, the distinguished pianist, is not generally known as a composer, but in any other country than this his strong tendency toward composition would have found encouragement, and he would have been well known and probably as distinguished in this department as he is now in playing. I have placed Mr. Sherwood's compositions last because they are the strongest of any in the list, and also the most difficult; when well played they are very effective and deserve to be better known than has hitherto been the case.

The songs upon this program represent two other composers. At the head of the list are placed some highly impassioned compositions by Mr. Geo. W. Chadwick, of Boston. Mr. Chadwick is one of the most accomplished American composers. From this set of songs, called "Told in the Gates," selections are to be made at the convenience of singers.

The collection, as a whole, is one of the most remarkable of recent times. It would be difficult to find twelve equally stirring songs in the whole repertory. The key-note is set by the very first song, "Sweetheart, Thy Lips are Touched with Flame," and in examining it one hardly knows what to admire most, the symphonic skill of the accompaniment, the placing of the emphasis for voice, or the intimate feeling for musical expression, which enables the composer to arrive at such thrilling effects. At the same time it is not a song for a timid singer or a timid player. The second one, "Sings the Nightingale to the Rose," is of a more quiet and reposeful character, well written. The third, "The Rose Leans over the Pool," a delightful scherzando, in which playful spirit and skilful use of material combine to produce its effect. The fourth, "Love's Like a Summer Rose," is a very charming song indeed for more ordinary occasions; well within the resources of ordinary singers, but with an effect very unusual. The next, "As the Waves without Number," a baritone song with a very elaborate accompaniment and the usual masterly opportunity for the singer. "Dear Love, when in Thy Arms I Lie," a slow and very expressive melody, with a delightful bit of obligato in the first measures, where a 'cello would produce a charming effect; modeled a little after a song of Schumann's, "Poet's Love":

"Was I not Thine when Allah Spoke the Word
Which Formed from Earth the Sky?"

A colossal song for baritone, having in it tenderness and most intense passion.

"In Mead where Roses Bloom," adapted for mezzo-soprano.

"Sister Fairest, why Art Thou Sighing?" a gem adapted for the female voice.

"O Let Night Speak of Me," dedicated to Max Heinrich.

"I Said to the Wind of the South," dedicated to Miss Edmunds. A song for mezzo-soprano, beautifully done.

It is difficult to speak of these songs in any kind of adequate terms, because they represent what very rarely happens nowadays: a very perfect union of music and poetry. The poetry for its own part being singularly impressive and provocative of song; and the music, in turn, sympathetic, masterly, and equal to the occasion; considered, therefore, from an ideal point of view, as to the poetic expression of musical moods or as the musical expression of poetic moods, both alike retaining the deepest and strongest sentiments, nothing lately has pleased so well. All the poems are by Arlo Bates. It is a collection of songs which every American lover of music ought to possess.

The other songs I take from a set by Mr. Homer A. Norris, a young but very talented and promising composer. The first is called "Twilight," and a lovely piece it is.