Music

SOMEBODY has said, in comparing the musical classicists of to-day with the bolder radicals of the Liszt-Wagner school, — as was indeed said some centuries ago in comparing the eclectic school of painting of Guido, Guercino, Domenichino, and others of the same stamp, with the bolder Neapolitan Naturalisti, the Caravaggios, the Riberas, and Giordanos, — that the eclectics were in the right in their pious adherence to the high traditional principles of art, but that the radicals had all the genius. An uncomfortable admission for prosperous criticism, which, after all, only lives and has its being in traditional formulas, to make in favor of an unrecognized, most questionable brood of upstarts, whose whole striving in art mainly tended towards destroying and “swallowing” those very formulas which had ever been the corner-stone of its own prosperity. The remark has nevertheless much truth in it, for has not eclecticism by its very nature one prime quality, — the furthest removed from any attributes of genius, whose essence is spontaneous originality, — the quality of imitation ? Proud of the heritage of the greatest master-works in its art, admiring eclecticism has ever been eager to clothe its own pygmy shoulders in the castoff mantle of departed heroes and demi-gods, unconcerned as to whether it fitted them or not ; the fashion of the mantle was at least respectable, even if there were some who might jeer at it in this Titanic attire. The fundamental mistake of eclecticism is and has ever been an admiration almost to idolatry of the heroes and demi-gods of art, for what they did rather than for what they were. What the great masters did is the world’s common property, to be imitated with more or less profit by whomsoever finds himself disposed ; but what they were was wholly and inalienably their own, inimitable by other mortals. What they did is of the high value that the world accounts it, simply because it was the natural, spontaneous outgrowth of what they were; what eclecticism does is, on the other hand, the forced, hot-house after-growth, not of what the eclectics themselves are, but of what their great predecessors did.

The Naturalisti or naturalists (which term can as well be applied to the modern musicians of the Liszt-Wagner school as to the old Neapolitan school of painters) take an attitude towards the classic masters of their art which is no whit less admiring or even reverential than that held by the eclectics. Naturalism says to classicism : Since I can in no way be thou, inasmuch as I exist under different conditions in this everchanging world, I will with my whole strength and soul be myself, as thou wert thyself! It is not surprising that starting from this point, the naturalists have never yet given anything to the world of equal value with the works of the great classic masters. They were the ripened fruit of the long, gradual growth of a whole era ; the naturalists are ever the groping explorers in a new field ; they have become transcendental, stepping out of the old formulas and rules of order, holding only to the one primary formula of “ I will be myself ; ” and let no one despise these naturalists for the many blunders they make. They have a hard path to travel, and like all explorers, must travel it without guidance. They may often raise a huge cry of joy at newly discovered gold, which after all only turns out glistening pyrites, but they are ever respectable for their self-reliant sincerity of purpose. Nay, they are even the most respectable of striving mortals, in spite of all their apparent failures. They might often say with Browning’s Cleon, —

And in any case, where true sincerity is not wanting, their apparent utter failure to realize the larger object of their striving is more admirable than the puny apparent success of the eclectics.

But upon the whole, in our age, when the large majority of artists must either take rank with prosperous eclecticism, or else step forth as pioneers under the flag of hard-striving, little-earning naturalism, how thrice fortunate is the man who can be wholly himself and yet easily great in the old, well-proved way, as to the manner born ! Such a man may be looked upon as the true posthumous child of royal classicism, in no wav differing from the heroes and demi-gods themselves save in the date of his birth.

Among the host of contemporary composers, two men have steadily, yet quietly, and without flourish of trumpets, been making good their title to this high distinction : Robert Franz and A. Saran. Of the latter we would say a few words here. Something over twelve years ago, Saran, who was then known to but a very few music lovers as a promising pupil of Franz, gave to the world his Opus I in the shape of a set of variations on an original theme for piano-forte.¹ Since then some other compositions in various forms have come from his pen, all good, but not quite fulfilling the high expectations which the first variations had led people to form of the composer. The exceedingly small number of these compositions spread over a considerable space of time, while it showed that the composer evidently composed only for the love of art itself and never strove to force the divine afflatus, might well have favored the opinion that he had very little to say, however much worth saying that little was. Saran has certainly been a most unprolific composer; four opus numbers in more than double the number of years is a very short list. The fact that he (having indeed been educated for the church) had taken charge of a parish in the far northeast of Prussia, and had given up music as an ostensible profession, gave additional semblance of truth to the idea entertained by some people that his musical career was after all but a flash itf the pan. But last year has brought us at last his Opus 5, which more than fulfills the most sanguine hopes of his admirers. His last Fantasie in B fiat minor ² indubitably places him in the very foremost rank among the composers of to-day. To attempt an exhaustive analysis of this last great work in the sonata form that has been offered to the world, — a work that so royally overtops all other compositions of the sort that contemporary composers have given us,—would lead us too much into the mere technicalities of the art to be in place here. We can only say that true genius makes itself felt in every bar of the four long movements. Brilliant as is the first impression of the work, we find that it wears well, and we feel new beauties at every hearing. Since Robert Schumann passed away, we have seen nothing so evenly strong in piano-forte music.

— As the Triennial Festival of our excellent Händel and Haydn Society draws near, with its promised performance of Bach’s St, Matthew-Passion, we would earnestly recommend to all those who are willing themselves to explore the beauties of this colossal work, a piano-forte arrangement made by Selmar Bagge.1 The advantages of this arrangement are so well, and withal so modestly, set forth by the editor, that we will quote from his preface :

“ The arrangement for piano-solo of a great work for chorus, solo, and orchestra, especially of one by S. Bach, seems at the first glance a bit of temerity ; the arranger hopes, nevertheless, to earn the thanks of the public and of all Bach-lovers. Years before he was able to hear the work fully performed, he had found enjoyment and a presentiment of the full effect, by playing from the score, and also by the same means interested others in the work. Why then should he not so prepare it for the more general public, that it too might in part get acquainted with, in part look for and find, a reminder of what it had already heard in the original work ? For it is probably unquestionable that piano-forte scores are only comprehensible to the score reader, and that difficulties beset the amateur on every side from the variety of clefs, and a want of dexterity in reading music or in improvising piano transcriptions.

“ The arranger knows well that much in the Passion-music cannot be fully rendered by two hands. Thus an arrangement for four hands might perhaps have been preferable ; but four-handed playing of Bach’s music presents peculiar difficulties. Bach’s constantly overlapping leading of the voices causes the hands constantly to interfere with each other, which is practicable with a single performer, but is on the other hand very inconvenient with two performers. Transposing the voices to a higher octave, where the piano-forte has but a feeble, resonance, would injure the proper, dignified acoustic effect of this music. . . .

“ The original position of the voices has upon the whole been faithfully adhered to; but in some cases the figured accompaniThe Shepherd Boy. Arranged for four hands. ment had to be put an octave higher or lower, and some of the bass passages transposed entire, as the tone of the piano-forte does not endure close intervals iu a low register. These alterations are everywhere particularly indicated.” By G. D. WILSON. Op. 14. Boston : O. Ditson & Co.

We can add that the arrangement is most excellently done, as far as is compatible with making it reasonably easy. The clear typography and convenient octavo form go still further to recommend this edition of a work whose position as the greatest of choral compositions is only disputed by Händel’s mighty Israel in Egypt.

— From Bach and Saran to Gottschalk is rather a wide leap, and the mood that we find ourselves in, after turning from the Passion-music and the B flat minor Fantasie to Gottschalk’s Rayons d'Azur polka, is not of the very sunniest. Whatever charm the polka in question may possess must be attributed to its similarity in general style to many of Gottschalk’s more fascinating works. To say that as a bit of musical composition it is utterly worthless, were perhaps taking too much pains to criticise what is by its intrinsic insignificance serenely outside the pale of criticism ; but that it has some few very faint hints in it of Gottsehalk’s peculiar charm is none the less undeniable.

De Grau’s Les Clochettes galop is simply a piece of cheaply manufactured dance music, and, as such, is well calculated to attain its -intended end, namely, to make people dance furiously and ever more furiously. What end Mr: Gottschalk’s polka, which presents itself in the guise of a composition for the piano-forte, is calculated to attain, does not upon the whole seem quite so clear.

G. D. Wilson’s four-hand arrangement of The Shepherd Boy (we must unwillingly confess to ignorance of what the Shepherd Boy in his original form is) is well and sonorously put upon the instrument, and is not unpleasing, if insignificant, in melody. Persons who are forced to play only exceedingly easy music will find it quite agreeable

Berthold Tours’s song, The Angel at the Window, is written with considerable appreciation of what is effective in the modern salon, Blumenthal Style, and may take rank with the writer’s best productions. Its real musical value is slight at best, but there are some points in it that an effective singer could easily turn to good account, At any rate the music is much better than the words deserve.

Molloy’s The Child’s Vision shows much more intrinsic musicianship, although not quite so much routine in composing. It is evidently written with much care, and is built upon better models, with an apparently higher artistic aim. There is still some rather poor harmony in it ; for instance, in the four bars of instrumental introduction the generally dissonant effect can only be called unpleasant. In some places the musical rhythm does not quite agree with the prosodical metre, resulting in the accent falling upon wrong words; as where the iambic metre of

“ It is not earthly music, that fills me with delight,”is, in the second hemistich, forced by the music to a sort of halting dactylic metre, making the accent fall thus,: —

We cannot see that the musical rhythm would be at all injured by a closer adherence to the metre and sense of the text.

Francis Boott’s The Night has a Thousand Eyes is well written, and marked by a cer tain refined poetical flavor which the com poser often succeeds in giving to his songs. What is most grateful to us in the song is the total absence of straining after effect, and the simple, easy flow of the melody and harmony. Had the composer not been over-anxious to make the piano-forte accompaniment, as we think, unnecessarily easy, the contrapuntal leading of the voices and the mere sonorous effect on the instrument would have been better in some places. Apart from this we can see no technical defect in the song (a rare thing nowadays), the fifths in the fourth measure of the fourth page having abundant authority in the best of modern composers, and being withal quite a happy' effect when taken in connection with the spirit of the text.

Ciro Pinsuti’s In Shadowland is not by any means without merit, though inferior to the foregoing songs. The technical part of the composition is very good, as songs of this class go, but there is a hopeless air of weak sentimentality about the song that makes the second and third verses rather tiresome.