As in Germany so in France has the array of sterling composers belonging to the nineteenth century assumed such extensive proportions that the historian's well-meant intentions to be concise are in danger of being frustrated. Only with regret can the temptation to search for further indications of orchestral innovations be set aside. On the other hand, one is obliged to concede that the recent progress of French instrumentation is entirely due to the series of eminent composers with which we have just been occupied, nor has the art of orchestration advanced as yet beyond that of Saint-Saëns and of Chabrier, unless we accept the efforts of Debussy as rich in promise as well as in interest. Omitting, therefore, the names of a host of other worthy aspirants, there remains only the seemingly indispensable mention of two secondary composers of recognized merit: Dubois and Paladhile;—of the eminent expounders on orchestration: Gevaërt and Lavoix;—of the literary writers and champions of the new school of thought: Vidal, Benoit and Joncières;—of the organist-composers: Guilmant and Widor;—of the representatives of the fair sex: Augusta Holmès and Cécile Chaminade, together with one of the most recent comets on the dramatic horizon: Gustave Charpentier.
The works of Dubois (1837) bear the stamp of exceptional ability and versatility. In addition to a successful grand opera entitled "Aben Hamet," the list includesan oratorio "Paradise Lost," a ballet "La Farandole," a concert overture "Frithjof," a pianoforte concerto, and several orchestral suites. Paladhile (1844), a pupil of Halévy, has made himself popular with "Mandolinata," besides winning the respect of the professional world in the cosmopolitan field of grand and comic opera, symphonies, masses, and minor works.
By a strange coincidence the three standard expositions of practical instrumentation and æsthetic orchestration are conceived in the French language,—the authors of these works being, of course, Berlioz, Gevaërt and Lavoix. Gevaërt (1828) merits the reputation not only of a musical savant but of a prolific composer as well. His "Nouveau Traité de L'Instrumentation" is not only a worthy sequel to Berlioz's, but has to a great extent actually displaced it. Of an entirely different stamp but equally indispensable to the student of orchestral evolution is the comprehensive "Histoire de L'Instrumentation" by Lavoix (1846). Further eulogistic comments upon these world-renowned treatises would seem superfluous.
The literary writer, Vidal (1820), must also be mentioned as an authority in one branch of instrumentation by virtue of his voluminous work entitled "Les Instruments à archet." It contains an admirable account of stringed instruments as well as of their makers, their performers, their composers. Benoit (1834) is identified with the advancement of musical art in Flanders, and the nature of his teachings emphasizes his strong Germanic convictions. He set to music several Flemish melodramas, but is especially to be commended for an essay on "L'École de Musique Flamande et son Avenir." The unflinching attitude of Joncières (1839) in favor of the Bayreuth master contributed materially in overcoming both dogmatic and racial prejudice. His literary writings reveal the mind of a keen musical critic, but his compositions lack significance in spite of being extremely modern.
The ascendency of modern French organ playing has been brought about by Guilmant, Widor, and their associates. But this is not their only claim to recognition, for their creative efforts bear directly upon the art of orchestration. Guilmant (1837) has displaced the classical organ concerto with string accompaniment by creating a more pliable form under the heading of "symphony for organ and orchestra." Widor (1845) has likewise shown a progressive spirit in his various organ, chamber, and orchestral works, which are notable for their artistic skill and for their display of poetic imagination.
To be looked upon as the first of the gentler sex to hold a conspicuous position among modern French composers is no small honor. This privilege has been granted to both Augusta Holmès and Cécile Chaminade. What is more, their achievements entitle them to a footing equal in rank to many of their most eminent masculine rivals. Not content to restrict themselves only to smaller forms of composition, both of these women have aspired to higher flights in the realm evenof symphony and opera. Nor have their efforts been futile, for they both have written masterpieces of enduring worth. Augusta Holmès, also known under the nom de plume of Hermann Zenta, was a pupil of César Franck. In consequence, her style and orchestration have acquired a certain solidity and dignity that act as an admirable counterpoise to the lightness of touch and dainty scoring that are to be expected from a woman. The opera "Héro et Léandre" and the symphonic poems "Irlande" and "Pologne" may be looked upon in the light of her most representative works. Better known in America is her sister-composer, Chaminade, whose charming songs and pianoforte pieces appeal to both professional and amateur. The fact of her being Moszkowski's sister-in-law has its significance in the plausible assumption that his example and guidance may have aided the full development of her creative powers. The most characteristic phase of her individuality finds expression in a pianoforte concerto and in the symphonie-ballet "Callirhoé." Both these works present much that is interesting, and are, moreover, effectively orchestrated.
It is yet too early to judge whether the fame of Gustave Charpentier (1860) is destined to be effervescent or enduring. At the present moment both the opera "Louise" and his orchestral efforts have most assuredly excited more than passing comment. Other contemporary Frenchmen, however, such as Fauré, Chausson, Bruneau, Debussy, have in turn also attracted attention, but with the exception of Claude Debussy (1862), none of them prove worthy of retaining more than the respectful esteem of the public.[88]Charpentier's "Louise" is conspicuous for its incidental episodes that are full of action, and the work in its entirety presents an attractive series of contrasted tableaux. The opera embodies an interesting experiment in that the lines of the libretto are of a decidedly colloquialgenre. The music is modern in the extreme and suggests Wagnerian influence as pronounced as that of any other French composer with the possible exception of Chabrier. The latter, however, appropriated to himself little more than Wagner's fundamental distribution of orchestral forces, whereas Charpentier has unquestionably permitted the distinctive atmosphere of "Die Meistersinger" to permeate portions of his opera. The vocal parts are designedly declamatory rather than melodic, unvocal, and excessively difficult. Theregisseurof the Munich Opera, Anton Fuchs,[89]declares that in all his experience at Bayreuth he never found a more knotty problem to solve than in teaching the singers the correct intonation of some of Charpentier's vocal cues. "Louise" is scored with the same due regard for proper effect that in these days is required of all meritorious composers. Although the orchestration may at times be somewhat noisy and overburdened, it reveals numerous insignia of characteristic individuality. Charpentier's orchestral music which M. Colonne has recently been presenting to the American public is on the whole analogous to that of "Louise," and the instrumentation is imbued with delicacy and refinement.
The attitude of the French public toward orchestral concert music has undergone a radical change during the last fifty years. Habeneck's efforts during the first half of the nineteenth century were indeed praiseworthy and productive, but to the modern conductors, Pasdeloup, Lamoureux, and Colonne belongs the honor of having placed concert music in France on a par with that of the drama. The story of their unprecedented activity has been frequently recorded but will bear repetition in consequence of its wide significance. The peculiar fact that until recent times practically all French composers won distinction in operatic lines before attempting orchestral works has already been sufficiently emphasized. It will be remembered, however, that even in the eighteenth century determined efforts had been made to establish orchestral concerts on a permanent footing, though they could not then hope to rival the allectations afforded by the dramatic stage. Retrospection shows us that in 1725 a brother of the composer, François Philidor, founded the "Concerts spirituels," which were subsequently fostered by Mouret and other worthy conductors. In 1770 the "Concerts des Amateurs" as established by Gossec proved such a success that he followed up the enterprise by reorganizing the venerable "Concerts spirituels." With the advent of Cherubini, French concert music received a still more powerful impetus, and through his resistless energy "La Société des Concerts du Conservatoire" sprang into existence.
This is the organization that gave Habeneck (1781-1849) an opportunity to distinguish himself. He repaid the debt with interest, for these concerts owe their subsequent world-wide fame primarily to him. Dating approximately from the year of Beethoven's death, new life was infused into this reorganized institution by reason of Habeneck's contagious enthusiasm, and it was he who initiated the French people into the inner mysteries of Beethoven's immortal creations.
In 1851, two years after the death of Habeneck, there was founded a second concert organization that was destined to bring both inspiration and recognition to many a young composer of the modern French School. It was founded by Pasdeloup (1819-1887) and went under the name of "Société des jeunes artistes du Conservatoire." It is not to be confounded with the "Concerts du Conservatoire" which continued to exist in connection with the conservatory proper. Out of this "Société des jeunes artistes" emanated in 1861 the "Concerts populaires de musique classique," which, as the name implies, was a further progressive step in affording the general public opportunity for hearing good music at popular prices. Pasdeloup's undertakings had for their original object the rendition of the best classical works. But the productions of contemporaneous composers both native and foreign were by no means excluded, and so such men as Lalo, Bizet, Saint-Saëns and Massenet were not slow to be the gainers thereby. That Pasdeloup was eventually forced into the background by Lamoureux and Colonne is but another proof of the fickleness and gross ingratitude of the general public. In vain did Pasdeloup in 1886 duplicate Godard's previous attempt to revive the "Concerts populaires," and this signal defeat undoubtedly hastened his end which took place one year later.
The career of the violinist and conductor, Lamoureux (1834), has been triumphant from the time when in association with Colonne he established a society for the performance of chamber music up to the time of his retirement in 1897. In 1873 he established an oratorio society which went under the name of the "Société de Musique sacrée." Subsequently he became conductor at theGrand Opéraas well as of theConservatoireconcerts. His crowning achievement was the founding in 1881 of the "Nouveaux Concerts," better known as the "Concerts Lamoureux."
Colonne (1838), greatest of all exponents of Berlioz and a zealous interpreter of Wagner, instituted in 1874 a series of performances under the name of the "Concerts du Chatêlet" that have since made his name famous. At the present day he still ranks as the most eminent contemporary French conductor. His activity shows no signs of abatement, for season after season finds him and his orchestra furthering the cause of French music in the musical centres of Europe as well as in America.
Neither the orchestras of Lamoureux nor of Colonne can be excelled in smooth and velvet-toned string playing, or in the purity, the sympathy, and at times the pathos that distinguish the quality of the wood-wind instruments. In French orchestras, however, the brass does not always possess that solidity and richness found in representative German orchestras. This defect may be due to the retention of at least one alto trombone, whereas the Germans now use either three tenor trombones, or two tenor and one bass. The bass-tubas also are frequently toolight and small. Particularly in some renditions of Wagnerian works is the undue prominence of inadequately balanced brass occasionally noticeable. Finally, the metallic quality of the kettle-drums, which effects the coloring of the entire orchestra, sounds foreign to ears accustomed to instruments of less pronounced incisiveness. These criticisms are equally pertinent to Italian orchestras, but do not appear to be objectionable to the composers of either France or Italy. In a word, therefore, the performance of French orchestras displays a marvel of refinement and finish even to the minutest of details, but lacks ideal balance and fulness in loudensemblepassages.
Such is the story of French musical progression during the nineteenth century! Though she inaugurated no such reforms as those that signalize the "Sturm und Drang" period in Germany, France has a record to show that is indeed an enviable one. Formerly surpassed by the parent of Romance nations—Italy, France has in recent years left that country far behind in matters both artistic and musical. For half a century Italy has now been represented by but one luminary of the first magnitude. Conspicuous in his solitary grandeur, this versatile hero has captivated in turn the hearts of all peoples, whether Latin, Germanic, or Anglo-Saxon. In every clime is the name chosen for our following discourse a familiar household word,—the name of that wonderful melodist, Verdi.
The last extended reference to Italian music is to be found inChapter VIII, which treats of the contemporaries of Beethoven. Those pages call attention to Spontini's historic grand opera, to Rossini's seductive charm, and to the "mellifluous fabrications of Donizetti and Bellini with which undramatic productions must be classed also the earlier works of Verdi in consequence of their voluptuous melodic exuberance."
Verdi(1813-1901) exhibits in the development of his creative power a series of progressive stages that are in some respects analogous to Wagner's evolutionary periods. Just as Wagner's operas and music dramas can be separated into three general groups, so may Verdi's productions be subjected to similar analytical treatment. It will be remembered, however, that the orchestration of Wagner necessitated a second independent classification which partially ignores the æsthetic and philosophical aspect of subject-matter. With Verdi, on the other hand, dramatic style, musical treatment and orchestration matured simultaneously and gradually.
There is no call to refer to works anteceding "Nabucco," which launchedVerdi on his unprecedented career. The first group may therefore include such operas as "Nabucco," "I Lombardi," and "Ernani." The sole claim to merit that these works can offer is in their wealth of melody, further enhanced by considerable rhythmic variety. Displaying closer resemblance to Meyerbeer's style than toil bel cantoof Rossini, they further embody reminiscences of Bellini, and their favorable reception may have been aided by these very reminiscences. From an artistic standpoint they contain little worthy of commendation. They lack depth of feeling, whereas both form and instrumentation are conventional and commonplace. Orchestral color depends largely upon violent and frequently illogical dynamic contrasts.
Typical of the second group are "Rigoletto," "La Traviata," and "Il Trovatore." A further division might have been made in consequence of the superiority of "Il Trovatore" over "Rigoletto." Such exact distinctions, however, do not seem necessary in this discussion. These works show more earnest search for truthful and impressive expression, greater harmonic variety, and freer treatment of the inner and lower parts. The dramatic effects are of an intensity rarely surpassed. The music is, however, not only passionate but violent, and the tonal effects often suggest unnecessary noise rather than satisfying sonority. As Ferris expresses it: "Verdi storms the ear and captivates the senses, but does not subdue the soul." "Rigoletto" shows increased regard for judicious orchestration and that particularly in the deployment of the wood-wind. The scoring of "La Traviata" is picturesque and consistent. "Il Trovatore" presents passionate outbursts of feeling, a certain striving after effects, whereas the instrumentation reflects in its not infrequent coarseness the brutal tendencies of the subject-matter itself. As a whole, however, the orchestration possesses more independence and richer tonal variety than that of Verdi's preceding works.
The third and last group is comprised of the "Manzoni Requiem," the operas "Aïda," "Othello," and the lyric drama "Falstaff." The last named might almost be classified by itself, representing as it does the extreme phase of Verdi's involuntary adaptation of Teutonic dogmas both ancient and modern. In spite of his obvious intention to make this his masterpiece, it presents a line of departure not suited to his most felicitous style of writing. However, thisdramma liricohas borne fruit in so far as to be a source of inspiration to Puccini, Mascagni and Leoncavallo, althoughtheireffusions take the form of "tragic operettas." In spite of the display of virile power in "Falstaff," Verdi reached his highest development in the orchestration of the Requiem, in the musical contents of "Aïda," and in the dramatic continuity of "Othello." In all these later works one finds unquestionable evidence of Wagnerian influence, at the least in respect to externals. Notwithstanding Verdi's repudiation of any such intentions, no composer surrounded by the spirit of the times could do other than progress. Themost noticeable improvements in the third group consist of freer use of the dissonant element, better declamation, higher regard for faithful interpretation, painstaking finish of minor details, and above all an extreme advance in the art of instrumentation. The functions of the orchestra become more and more important, and the tonal colors acquire a richer and warmer hue. The scoring of the Requiem is dignified, religious, yet emotional. That of "Aïda" breathes the very atmosphere of its Egyptian setting. In "Othello," the orchestration is essentially dramatic and impassioned. "Falstaff" accepts the fundamental principles of Gluck, and the orchestra is raised to prominence equal to that of the voices. As a result of this concession, Verdi found Wagner's orchestral resources indispensable to his needs, and the resultant modern effects are a pleasant surprise. The vocal parts and the orchestra are here logically balanced, though Verdi's marvellous gift as a writer of pure and limpid melody continues in evidence.
With the evolution of this third period was instituted one of the mightiest transformations in the history of Italian opera. That country has as yet been unable to replace him. The efforts of Ponchielli, Gomez, Boïto, Sgambati, Buonamici, Puccini, are certainly praiseworthy, but sink into insignificance when compared with the splendid attainments of their venerable and venerated model. As to the rocket-like ascent and descent of Mascagni together with the present notoriety of Leoncavallo, time alone will decide whether the path they have chosen be meritorious or meretricious.
It will take but a few words to conclude the record of musical activity displayed by the recent representatives of the Latin races. They have done practically nothing for the cause of orchestration other than to branch off into infrequented by-ways that have necessitated corresponding orchestral treatment. These final remarks must therefore deal not with the subject of instrumentation proper, but rather with the æsthetic and philosophical aspect of modern Italian music, the influence it has exerted, and the direction it is taking.
Ponchielli (1834) owes a foreign reputation to his opera "Gioconda," but endeared himself to his countrymen not alone as a dramatic writer but also as the author of the "Garibaldi Hymn," written in 1882, four years before his death. He enjoyed the reputation of being the greatest modern composer of Italian opera after Verdi. Since the Brazilian, Gomez (1839), practically adopted Italy as his home, he is mentioned in this connection. He was a painstaking composer, but his music frequently reminds one of Verdi's, whose ardent admirer he was. Boïto (1842) possesses not only the talents of an excellent composer, but of a highly gifted poet as well. He was the first prominent Italian to accept without reservethe fundamental principles governing the Germanic music drama, and thus became the head of the Wagnerian party in his own country. His "Mefistofele" did not succeed without a struggle, but it is now accepted as a standard opera of universal fame. The orchestral efforts of Sgambati (1843) are analogous to Boïto's adaptation of exotic principles bearing on operatic forms. To Sgambati belongs the honor of being the first Italian composer of the nineteenth century devoted to purely instrumental music and large orchestral forms. Already in his youth he attracted attention in consequence of an interesting pianoforte quartet. His structural form, moulded on classic lines, is logical and well proportioned, nor is it devoid of distinctive characteristics. His music embodies clear melodic delineation and free harmonization. The orchestration is, however, its best feature. It displays sound judgment, sentient appreciation for variety, contrast, and tone-color; these results are, moreover, attained by means of a comparatively small orchestra. Concert overtures, chamber music and the like are comprised in the works of Buonamici (1846) who was a pupil of both von Bülow and Rheinberger. His chief claim to recognition, however, like that of Puccini, depends upon his dramatic effects, which have attracted considerable attention. At the present moment Puccini is generally regarded by his countrymen as the foremost living Italian composer. His orchestration is rich and full, but his music, in spite of its pleasing melody and impassioned utterance, betrays the influence of Ponchielli who in turn drew inspiration from Verdi.
What shall be said about Mascagni and Leoncavallo? What have they done even indirectly for the cause of orchestration? Chronologically, Leoncavallo (1858) precedes Mascagni (1863), but without "Cavalleria rusticana" to establish a precedent, "I Pagliacci" might never have created the furor that it has. A discussion as to the relative merits and defects of their notorious productions would be here out of place. As to their relative orchestration, that of Mascagni shows, on the whole, a lack of genuine musicianly training. Although it must be conceded that he elicits highly dramatic and intensely passionate accents from the orchestra, the substance of his orchestration has, on the whole, a false ring to it and is of a hoarse quality of tone. It lacks balance, lacks taste, lacks judgment, and is at times coarse even to brutality. That of Leoncavallo is decidedly more refined and original. Here again the key-note is a striving after unnatural effects; but the orchestra is at least full of life, impassioned, descriptive.
The earlier achievements of Ponchielli, Boïto and Sgambati are assuredly of more enduring worth. These three representative men may be regarded as the only noteworthy Italian composers born after Verdi and before 1850.[90]Such isthe present meagre record of a country that can boast of an illustrious throng of preceding prodigies![91]
(Summaryonpage 178.)
Hungary.The music of Hungary with specific relation to orchestration calls for but brief comment beyond what has already been said in connection with Liszt onpage 92and with Goldmark onpage 85. It will be remembered, however, that Liszt's Hungarian origin revealed itself not so much in an indigenous style of composition as in the propagation of those musical characteristics peculiar to his race. This adaptation and development of native dance tunes received plastic form in his "Hungarian Rhapsodies." Goldmark, on the other hand, cannot properly be regarded as an Hungarian composer at all. His music is German rather than Magyar, eclectic rather than local. He revels in the insidious atmosphere of the Far East. These two men are, however, the only composers of unusual eminence Hungary has produced. A small group of men may have remained more faithful to Magyar traditions than Liszt and Goldmark, but the results of their efforts are not significant. What these secondary composers did accomplish can be embraced in a few words. Before doing so, however, it might be well to settle upon the exact definition of "Hungarian" music. A quotation from Parry's "Art of Music" would appear to answer this question to the best advantage: "The original Hungarian music is extraordinarily characteristic in rhythm and vigorous in melody, but devoid of ornament. The recognized musicians of Hungary are gypsies, who are of Oriental descent, and are well known for their taste for finery and ornamentation all the world over; and in their hands Hungarian music has become the most ornamental thing of its kind that Europeans are acquainted with. The ornaments are perfectly meaningless, except as implying singular dexterity of manipulation and an extraordinary aptitude for purely superficial invention in the decorative direction. Hungarian music belongs to the illustration of making a special rise to the highest point in the middle or early in the latter part of a tune. With the Hungarians both the dance tunes and local tunes are so full of energetic intervals and rhythms that even when there are no crises the impression produced is often emotional."
Representative adherents to Magyar characteristics are Franz Erkel (1810), Mosonyi (1814), Albert Doppler (1821), his brother, Karl Doppler (1826), and Czibulka (1842). By admitting the cosmopolitans, Liszt (1811) and Goldmark (1830), this list of Hungarian composers is sufficiently complete for all present purposes. Erkel and the elder Doppler are looked upon as the leading national opera composers. Of the two, Erkel displayed the greater originality. Author of no less than nine operas, he reached his highest attainments in "Bank Bán" and "Hunyadi Laszlò." The latter combines native traits with German and Italian operatic and orchestral traditions. Albert Doppler's foreign reputation is primarily due to his extensive concert tours as a flute virtuoso. His additional activity as a composer, however, gave him high standing in his own country. The present writer recalls an interesting conversation with his brother, Karl Doppler—late Kapellmeister at Stuttgart—in reference to the opera "Erzébeth" written jointly by Erkel and the two Dopplers. He described the work as "Gelegenheitsmusik"; such was the haste demanded by the attending circumstances, that the first act was put into rehearsal before the last act was completed, whereas Karl Doppler himself was still busy scoring (in Italian style) on the very day appointed for performance. Erkel's contemporary, Mosonyi or Michael Brandt, displayed considerable versatility in forms both small and large, whereas Czibulka represents a later generation of Hungarian composers. His position as bandmaster at Vienna gave him opportunity to cultivate his native attributes in the guise of dance music, in addition to which he wrote an operetta entitled "Pfingsten in Florenz."
It cannot be said that the collective efforts of these composers have developed a national style of orchestration. There is plenty of color and variety in their scoring, but the latent charm of their works is the result of melodic and rhythmic novelty, and not of instrumentation.
Bohemia.In marked contrast to the above-mentioned limitation is the evolution of Bohemian orchestration, especially when one considers the fact that the pioneer, Smetana, was content to build upon Mozart's system of scoring, whereas already in the next generation his illustrious pupil, Dvořák, developed that art to a point excelled by none. To mention these two men is synonymous for both the birth and the maturity of a native Bohemian school of composition. They both relied upon the Folk-song as a basis for operation, but Dvořák advanced far beyond his master. A worthy successor to these two men has not yet appearedupon the horizon, even though Dvořák's pupil, Joseph Suk, reveals latent possibilities for future prominence.[92]
Smetana(1824-1884) is a typical Czechish composer. Though he studied for a short time under Liszt and showed himself an enthusiastic follower of the "New Movement," his melody and rhythm are thoroughly Bohemian; moreover, his music, like his orchestration, occasionally reveals a certain naïve touch of Mozart. Smetana wrote as many as eight operas, but the very first of these, "Die verkaufte Braut," not only gave him his foreign reputation, but has proved the best and most enduring of them all. The overture of this work, with its magnificent fughetta, forms an admirable concert number by itself. It might be incidentally added that this overture contains horn attacks of such difficulty as to have proved a stumbling block at public performance to no less an orchestra than the Royal band in Munich under Levi's magnetic baton some fifteen years ago. Smetana's affiliations with Liszt bore fruit in a worthy series of symphonic poems, whereas his native inheritance is emphasized in his national dances for pianoforte.
Dvořák[93](1841-1904) shares with Saint-Saëns, Tschaikowsky and Richard Strauss the distinction of having done more for the advancement of modern orchestration than any other composer since Wagner. For his conservation of classic symphonic forms he might be ranked as an extreme classical-romanticist, but he has gone far beyond Brahms or Rheinberger in that his harmonic progressions are novel and daring, his orchestration varied and rich. Moreover, his music is conspicuously national in character and embodies the very essence of Bohemian melody and rhythm. But though Dvořák's form may be orthodox, it is nevertheless subjected to differentiated transformations according to the particular branch of composition that is being treated. In this he resembles Saint-Saëns, and some interesting comparisons might be made between the latter's symphony in C minor and Dvořák's "From the New World." It will be recalled that this successful experiment of Saint-Saëns allows of but two grand structural divisions, which, however, reveal the outlines of the traditional four movements. Organic unity is obtained by reintroducing important subject-matter from the first part of the work into the second. Neither Saint-Saëns nor Dvořák make use of a dramatic scheme like Berlioz's "Symphonie fantastique" with itsl'idée fixe, but asKrehbiel, the eminent New York critic, states it: "Dvořák in his symphony entitled "From the New World," in which he has striven to give expression to the American spirit, quotes the first period of his principal subject in all subsequent movements, and then sententiously recapitulates the principal themes of the first, second and third movements in the finale; and this without a sign of the dramatic purpose confessed by Berlioz."
Dvořák's chamber music presents still another phase of the subtle manner in which he retains and yet remodels the outlines of classic form. In regard to musical contents, the essence of national melody and rhythm is ever in evidence, but whereas in their original shape these folk-tunes are frequently commonplace and even vulgar, Dvořák's brilliant imagination transforms them into worthy conceptions that are both dignified and noble. These he adorns with vivacious yet refined orchestration.
Yet another illustration of Dvořák's versatility is displayed in the "Spectre's Bride," which embraces in a felicitous manner the supernatural element peculiar to the works of Spohr and Weber.
As has been already intimated, the paramount accomplishment of this modern luminary was his colossal development of orchestral resources. One can point to his symphonies as models for brilliant scoring. The "Spectre's Bride," the Stabat Mater, the Requiem abound in beautiful combinations. The orchestration is warm and rich[94]without being overburdened, interesting and varied, yet appropriate and consistent. Minor details receive careful attention. The string writing is clear and bright,[95]whereas in the handling of the wood-wind instruments Dvořák shares with Brahms the tendency to fall back upon Schubert's methods.[96]
One by one our great contemporary masters are passing away. Be it hoped that at a not far distant day Bohemia may again send forth a missionary to our climes worthy of rank with Dvořák!
Scandinavia.Analogous to the development during the nineteenth century of Hungarian and Bohemian folk-tunes is that of the Scandinavian countries. Just as Germany can point to herLiedand France to herchansonas the basis for scientific secular music on the Continent, so is the recognition of the younger musical countries dependent upon the distinctive features of their nativemelodies. America presents a unique exception to this rule. For variety and expression, Norwegian and Swedish folk-tunes compare favorably with those of Russia. A conspicuous characteristic of early Scandinavian folk-tunes is the progression to the minor seventh of the scale through its fifth.
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Again, many peculiarities popularly regarded as Grieg's exclusive property constitute in reality the fundamental characteristics of the original source from which he has drawn his inspiration. The national music of all three countries, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, embodies shortness of theme, reiteration of the same interval, shifting tonality, alliance of binary and ternary rhythm, and the plaintive fall of the leading tone to the dominant. To Denmark belongs the honor of having produced the pioneer exponent of native melodies and native characteristics—Gade. His achievements have since been eclipsed by Norway's sturdy representative—Grieg. In the earlier part of the century several Swedish composers made a creditable showing, but in recent years Norway seems to have established her ascendency. After Gade, the only Danish composer who has attracted especial attention beyond the boundaries of his own lands is Enna. Few modern Swedish composers have risen conspicuously above their predecessors, Lindblad, Hallström and Södermann. Norway, on the other hand, possesses not only Grieg, but Svendsen and Sinding as well. The racial affinity disclosed by the music of all these composers makes possible a collective review of their achievements in chronological order.
Already in the initial Swedish productions are national tendencies to be found. Subject-matter, coloring, harmonic and rhythmic structure all reveal the same general source. Lindblad (1801) became known as the teacher of Jenny Lind and also as a composer of songs. His melody and harmony are original and characteristic. His more ambitious works include a violin sonata and a symphony; the latter was performed at a Gewandhaus concert. Hallström (1826), in addition to national songs, wrote seven operas as well as a memorable Idyl for soli, chorus and orchestra entitled "Die Blumen." Less widely known is the name of Södermann (1832); nevertheless his efforts are ambitious and comprise an operetta, a mass, an overture for orchestra, and incidental music to the "Jungfrau von Orleans." He owes his German reputation largely to a composition for four female voices, called "Bröllop," which went the rounds of that country and was popular in its day. At least passing reference is at this point due to Normann (1831) in consequence of the important services he rendered to his country as an orchestral conductor.
ThoughGade(1817-1890) stands as the pioneer of Scandinavian composers and as chief representative of Denmark, his works do not present unadulterated indigenous characteristics. The influence of Mendelssohn as well as of Schumann is plainly in evidence; consequently he is classified onpage 77among the direct followers of romanticism. The substance of Gade's music suggests Northern coloring and surroundings, but the presence of native melody, harmony and rhythm is less conspicuous. He adhered to the symmetry of sonata form, though his thematic development is free and his musical treatment unfettered. Gade first became known through the overture "Nachklänge aus Ossian" and the first symphony in C minor. The "Crusaders" still belongs to the standard cantatas of the present day. He had early been a careful student of representative scores, and developed high efficiency in the art of orchestration. Appreciation of the possibilities as well as of the limitations of each instrument, successful application of "local coloring," and a ready pen stamp the pages of his numerous symphonies and orchestrally accompanied choral works.
Turning to the representatives of Norway belonging to a later generation than Gade's, one naturally recalls the name of Grieg. Nevertheless Svendsen (1840) was born three years before Grieg, and holds a position of eminence only secondary to that of his Danish predecessor or of his Norwegian contemporary. A violinist as well as a composer, he possesses a gift for spontaneous and flowing melody. His music rests on a sound harmonic basis, is cleverly developed and skilfully orchestrated. It reveals national coloring though not to excess, and reflects the mind of a cosmopolitan musician. Svendsen's sphere of creative activity embraces various orchestral works, besides chamber music and smaller pieces. Prominent among these are the four Norwegian rhapsodies, and he has been particularly happy in arranging many Norwegian, Swedish and Icelandic melodies for small orchestra.
Grieg(1843) represents one of the few recent composers who have not been conspicuously influenced by ultra-modern tendencies beyond appreciation for the necessary alliance of poetry and music. The exact value of his attainments is not easy to define. D.G. Mason has been rather hard on him in his thoughtful essay entitled "From Grieg to Brahms," and in Germany there is also a disposition to regard much of his music as superficial. None the less, Grieg's style has a charm about it that is irresistible, and this charm goes far to silence the grumblings of critics more scientifically and profoundly trained than he. But it is precisely this naïve spontaneity, this guileless yet poetic touch, this flow of fancy emanating straight from the heart that endears his music to the more appreciative and emotional amateur. Though a pupil of the Leipzig Conservatory, Grieg early took a firm stand against the lukewarm Scandinavianism of Gade, and bestirred himself in a search for musical utterance that should present theindigenous characteristics of his own people in the most favorable light. His solution of this problem brought into existence a distinct Northern school of composition. As previously suggested, many peculiarities of his music are but the adaptation of time-honored Scandinavian characteristics. But though the strength of his works rests upon the development of Danish, Norwegian and SwedishVolkslieder, he has imbued these with an element of poetic coloring, of tender melancholy, of mystery, of quaint humor, of grotesqueness even to eccentricity that are all his own. Grieg's style is frequently lacking in breadth, nor does he possess the powers of a great orchestral composer. Nevertheless, his writing for strings alone is of surpassing beauty, with its multiple division of parts, its polyphonic voice-leading, and its impassioned deployment of violas and violoncellos. When at his best, Grieg handles his larger orchestral forces with similar rare skill. The orchestration of Björnsen's unfinished drama "Olaf Trygvason" and that of the music to Ibsen's "Peer Gynt," conceived as a melodramatic scene-painting, is tender, fervent, weird, brilliant, stormy, popular, effective. Notwithstanding all that has been said, Grieg stands as one of the most original and healthy composers of the nineteenth century.[97]
Of the younger Norwegian composers, Sinding (1856) has given evidence of a fertile imagination that finds expression in some pleasing chamber music and other works in small form. To judge from his popular "Frühlingsrauschen," he must be counted among the admirers of Wagner. His Danish contemporary, August Enna (1860), has devoted himself to a more ambitious form of composition. His opera "Heksen" was brought out at Copenhagen in 1892, and at Berlin in the ensuing year. Two further operas of recognized merit have emanated from his pen—"Cleopatra" and "Aucassin og Nicolette."[98]The Scandinavians are not conspicuously dramatic, but Enna's grandfather was an Italian, which may account for the grandson's histrionic talent. There are other names worthy of mention,[99]such as Tor Aulin and Wilhelm Stennhammer[100]of Sweden; up tothe present moment, however, none have proved worthy to be ranked with the greatest of Scandinavian composers—Grieg.
Russia.Among the phenomena of the nineteenth century must be reckoned the wonderful artistic evolutions in Russia and in America. Of the two countries, Russia has thus far forged ahead by reason of her indigenous melodic wealth, whereas America has no similar source to draw from. Again, the melancholy and semi-barbaric coloring of Russian folk-tunes appeals more readily to the world at large than do the assuredly more healthy though somewhat eclectic offerings of the young American school. None the less, the artistic future of the latter country is to be regarded in the most optimistic light, and this certainly will be subsequently enlarged upon under its proper heading.
Russian folk-songs embody certain characteristics that are likewise at the root of Scandinavian folk-songs. In their natural and unadorned state they suggest the rhythmic freedom of Scandinavia, and their dance forms are similarly wild and irresistible. Further characteristics that are more distinctly Russian consist of odd modulations, of plaintive minor cadences, of harmonies resolving abruptly into the unison, and of the frequent recurrence of a principal theme alternating with various reiterated phrases. A possible reminiscence of the Lydian and Dorian modes of ancient Greece might also be suggested. This is the basis upon which an epoch-making school of highly-seasoned dramatic and orchestral music has been reared.
Cultivated Russian music may be properly divided into three distinctive groups. First came the old lyric-school of Glinka, Dargomizski and Seroff, followed by the neo-Russian school which includes Dargomizski in his maturity, together with Borodin, Cesar Cui, Balakireff, Mussorgski, Rimski-Korsakoff, and their associates. A third classification is required for Rubinstein and Tschaikowsky in consequence of their less national than cosmopolitan attributes. It is by no means intended to convey the idea that Tschaikowsky was not intensely Russian, but his broad education and his intellectual classicism distinguish him from his compatriots. Rubinstein, on the other hand, was more a Teutonic classical-romanticist than a Slavonic composer. This exposition will therefore first treat of the typically native composers, leaving Rubinstein and the unrivalled Tschaikowsky for the end.
Glinka(1803-1857) accomplished for his country what Smetana and Gade did for theirs. A further unique comparison can be made in that the labors of these three men in each case paved the way for subsequent herculean development in the hands of one conspicuous successor of even greater talent—respectively Dvořák, Grieg, Tschaikowsky. Although Glinka, like Gade, devoted himself to the propagation of national melodies, it is the local coloring rather than subject-matter that gives his music a character of its own. In this he again resembles Gade. His very first opera "Life for the Czar" proved a triumphant success, and, together with its successor "Ruslan and Ludmilla," gave Glinka the right to be called the first great opera composer of Russia. His music may not be especially dramatic, but is significant for having elevated and perpetuated popular airs, which are clothed in rich harmonies and surrounded by a distinctly Russian atmosphere. The orchestration calls for but little comment excepting that it is clever and at times even brilliant. Glinka's position in musical history has been accurately described by Riemann when he says: "Glinka is the Berlioz of the Russians, the man who attempted something new with definite meaning; but to his countrymen he is still more, namely, the creator of a national musical tendency striving toward independence."
Dargomizski (1813), second representative of the old lyric-school and eventually a convert to the new Russian movement, stands as a noteworthy example for gradual artistic expansion. Clinging at first to the forms prevalent in France and in Italy, he gradually came to attach greater importance torecitative, and finally went even too far. This extreme as to absence of melody as well as of structural form reached its culmination in his posthumous opera "The Marble Guest," which has since been most effectively orchestrated by Rimski-Korsakoff. The work is advanced both in thought and treatment, and may be regarded as the initiatory modern Russian opera. Two of Dargomizski's minor orchestral compositions, the "Finnish Fantasia" and the "Cossack Dance," acquired considerable popularity. Dargomizski is particularly to be commended for his attitude as a patron of the young Russian enthusiasts whose tendencies were inclined toward Berlioz, Schumann, Liszt and Wagner.
Serow (1820)—usually spelt Seroff in the English language—belongs properly to the earlier school, although he was a zealous disciple of Wagner, and, like him, prepared his own librettos. The style of his music is such as to carry us almost imperceptibly across the short bridge joining the first and second groups of Russian composers.
As just stated, the second group of young composers found a champion in their senior, Dargomizski. The tenets of the "New Russian Movement" are closely allied to those of the "New German Movement." The programmatic and philosophical theories of Berlioz and Liszt applied to the dramatic orchestra, and the unreserved adaptation of Wagner's speech-singing and instrumentation form the basis for their creed. On the other hand, they demand that all "program-music" shall be of such intrinsic merit as to withstand the test of being deprived of its program. Prominent among these innovators was Borodin (1834). His originality displayed itself conspicuously in independent orchestral music as exemplified by his two symphonies. The style is attractive and polished, whereas a wealth of orchestral effects and instrumental tone-color is at his command. Further proof of his fertility is revealed in the opera "Fürst Igor," in the symphonic poem "Mittelasien," and in his chamber music. Cesar Cui (1835) holds a position of prominence only secondary to that of Rubinstein and Tschaikowsky. He was an ardent literary advocate for Berlioz, Schumann and Liszt, whereas his vocal writing is in reality the exposition of a style akin to the requirements of French prosody. Balakireff (1836) and Mussorgski (1839) also belong to this second group of Russian composers. The former has been called the direct successor of Glinka. The compositions of the latter display daring originality and a gift for charming melody, although the harmonization is not always skilful. Nevertheless, both these men are outranked by Rimski-Korsakoff (1844), whose eminence is fully equal to that of Borodin and Cesar Cui. His works include several remarkable symphonies, three operas, chamber music and salon pieces. Special attention should be called to the program-symphony "Antar" and to a legend for orchestra, "Sadko." One of the youngest exponents of combined melodic and declamatory styles is Arensky (1862), and the interest recently excited by the third symphony in C minor of Glazounoff (1865) entitles him also to recognition under this heading.
This discussion may evoke the criticism that thus far too little has been said about orchestration proper and nothing whatever about the details of instrumentation. As to this, however, it must be remembered that modern Russian orchestration owes its fundamental characteristics to only one man—Tschaikowsky; consequently, the examination of these characteristics has been reserved for discussion in connection withhistitanic achievements. All contemporary and sequent orchestral treatment in the hands of his countrymen is but the reflection of Tschaikowsky's style combined with the further progressive methods of German and French orchestration. It is the indirect influence these other composers have exercised upon the art of orchestration rather than their actual instrumentation that has needed elucidation.
For convenience, Rubinstein and Tschaikowsky have been classed together as representing a third group of Russian composers. Theoretically they possess nothing in common other than their cosmopolitan proclivities.
Rubinstein(1830-1894), regarded in the light of a Russian composer, cannot be compared with Glinka as an operatic writer or with Tschaikowsky as an orchestrator. Regarded as a classical-romanticist, he must be included in the list of composers following traditional forms. What is more, he was an extremist in his antagonism to the innovations of the New German Movement. This hostility exerted a baneful influence upon his instrumentation. His intentions were high, but the results of uneven value. His music reveals a search after fulness of contents, passionate strength, and a certain predilection for the peculiar. Euphony and rounded form are less pronounced, though occasional evidence of delicacy and even of tenderness is not lacking. Rubinstein cannot be eulogized as a dramatic writer, although "Feramors" is a pleasing lyric opera, and the Biblical stage-play "Sulamith" presents a poetic idyl imbued with Eastern color. Interesting is the embodiment of seven movements in the "Ocean Symphony," a work that holds high rank in musical literature. In string writing, Rubinstein revealed fine appreciation of tone-color. The instruments are handled with rare skill and that quite especially in his chamber music. But in spite of a not infrequent display of superb power, his orchestration, on the whole, was hampered by the narrow prejudice which limited his horizon.
The history of Slavonic music up to the present day will be concluded with the following brief remarks concerningTschaikowsky[101](1840-1893). Though he is mentioned last, one must not forget that his activity covers the same period as that of the originators of the neo-Russian school.
The composite of his high-strung and intensely æsthetic nature may be summed up by saying that at heart he was in sympathy with Liszt; his structural form rests upon the intellectuality of classicism; his conceptions emanated from Muscovite melodies but are stamped with the insignia of genius all his own; his style is essentially lyrical, and betrays the delicacy and refinement of a cultured Russian. What is more, there are momentary suggestions even of coyness that are again strikingly contrasted by a certain barbaric element worthy of a barely-civilized Cossack.
The peculiar fascination exerted by his music may be traced first and foremost to its dominating melancholy character, although this plaintive strain is again set off by a certain vigor, which Henderson calls "the outcome of a certain grimdetermination always present in the Russian heart." It has also been described by Dannreuther as "fiery exultation on a basis of languid melancholy." The means which Tschaikowsky found to express himself in a language of profound pathos embodied the free use of sombre chromatic harmony, of minor modes, and above all of weird and gloomy orchestration.[102]The general outlines of Tschaikowsky's music embrace melodic subtleties, bold modulations, florid figuration, strongly marked rhythm and cadences peculiar to his own land, huge dimensions, fantastic portrayal, broad dignity of utterance, and magnificent orchestral effects. The embodiment of native folk-music in no way interferes with his own intense originality and genuine spontaneity.
One of the most astounding features in Tschaikowsky's scoring is the extreme modern effect secured from virtually the same orchestra of moderate size that Beethoven employed. To the uninitiated auditor, the wealth and variety of tone-color produced would appear to require a mighty aggregation of instruments; but the "Symphonie pathétique," for example, makes requisition for no more instruments than those used in Beethoven's grandest symphonies, excepting the addition of a bass-tuba.[103]As for an increased number of strings, the increase remains in force for modern performances of the classics as well. In regard to obtaining what has been called "a gloomy eloquence of instrumentation," this is effected by drawing upon the deeper accents of the orchestra.[104]Tschaikowsky employed such combinations as horns and bassoons alone; English horn, bassoons and violas; the lower tones of flutes and clarinets also accompanied by violas; the unison of English horn with low strings as in thecantabileof the overture-fantasy, "Hamlet,"—a combination to which Henderson calls attention in his admirable little book on the orchestra. (This work, by the way, is skilfully written for the delectation of cultivated amateurs.) Other important contributors to Tschaikowsky's subdued coloring are the clarinets in their lower range and the bassoons in their upper range.[105]The best exemplification of orchestration essentially mournful in character is discovered in his last great work—the "Symphonie pathétique" already referred to. On the other hand, a magnificent specimen of forceful writing is presented in the final movement of particularly the C major symphony.
Recent development in Russia of orchestral resources is bearing delectable fruit; but without Tschaikowsky to point the way, this would not have been possible. He still reigns supreme as the greatest interpreter of Slavonic ideals. Tschaikowsky in Greater Russia, Grieg in Scandinavia, Dvořák in Bohemia, Saint-Saëns in France, Wagner and Richard Strauss in Germany,—these are the men of the nineteenth century who have caused the art of orchestration toacquire distinctively national characteristics suited to the needs of differentiated national music. In return, composers of all countries are seizing upon every possible device introduced by these innovators, and the twentieth century gives promise of results cosmopolitan in nature and superb beyond description.
England.Although the recent growth of Russian music is of vast significance, neither have the Anglo-Saxons been idle. England can also point to a long series of sterling composers belonging to the nineteenth century. Among the representative musicians who have helped to develop a native style of composition and orchestration should be mentioned Balfe, Macfarren, Bennett, Barnby, Sullivan, Bridge, Mackenzie, Parry, Cowen, Stanford.
At the head of this sturdy list stands Balfe (1808), whose continuous application to operatic forms presents an exception to the more varied labors of most English composers. Neither the substance-matter nor the instrumentation of his works merits the distinction of having furthered the cause of indigenous English music. The style is essentially Italian. Balfe possessed fluency of expression and displayed aptitude for pleasing melody. Depth and power were not among his attributes.
An entirely different atmosphere pervades the numerous productions of Sir George Macfarren (1813). This eminent pioneer of nineteenth century English music had the honor of being born in the same year with Wagner. The cosmopolitan range of his compositions is noteworthy, and his tireless activity in the face of an affliction that eventually ended in entire blindness entitles him to unstinted praise. His works are among the most important contributions to the literature of English music, covering as they do every branch of music from opera, oratorio and cantata to symphony, chamber music and sacred pieces.
The reader will remember that onpage 77ofChapter IX, particular mention was made of Sterndale Bennett (1816), in view of his association with Mendelssohn and Schumann. The pith of the remarks embodied in that paragraph will, however, bear repetition, owing to the significance attached to Bennett's influence upon modern English music. The acknowledged heir of Purcell, he clothed his individuality in the language promulgated by the early Romanticists; but though his works bear the undeniable impress of Mendelssohnian characteristics, they are none the less original and of enduring worth. His field of activity as a composer was extensive. Outside of England, his oratorio "The Woman of Samaria"is, perhaps, the best known of his various choral works, symphonies and concertos. The high regard in which he is held by his countrymen reveals itself in his title of "Founder of a New English School."
To mention Barnby (1838) in these pages may appear somewhat out of place. Sacred music is the line in which he particularly distinguished himself. In addition to writing magnificent hymns and anthems, he developed his best gifts in such works as his psalm "The Lord is King." Nevertheless, it will be noticed that from a chronological standpoint Barnby heads the list of the more recent English exponents of progressive ideas, and his advanced convictions entitle him to recognition in this discussion if for no other reason than for his zeal and perseverance in having given in London two concert performances of "Parsifal" as early as in 1884. The date of this achievement is significant when one considers that the initial dramatic performance of "Parsifal" at Bayreuth had taken place but two years before.
The most widely known English composer of the nineteenth century is, of course, Sullivan (1842). This renown has been won by virtue of a unique talent for writing comic operas that are gems of the first water. On the other hand, Sullivan has again and again revealed his latent powers for composition in serious vein. Had he elected to consecrate himself to the nobler form of art, he might have become the greatest of all English composers. As it is, he has done much for the cause of Anglicized music and especially of Anglicized orchestration. The author of no less than fifteen operettas that are famed in England, America, and to a lesser degree in Continental Europe, he has clothed these works in charming orchestral garment. The instrumental combinations at his command were small, but he was never at loss how to use them to best advantage. It was his peculiar custom to postpone the orchestral scoring until all modifications as suggested by preliminary rehearsals had been decided upon. Taking the "Mikado" as a favorable example, it is seen that the local coloring demanded by the setting depends chiefly upon the orchestra. The quaint opening chorus for men at the very beginning of the operetta proves the truth of this statement. Sullivan based his methods of instrumentation upon those of Mozart, but occasionally copied Gounod and even Berlioz. When, however, Sullivan employs larger orchestral forces, his musicianship, dramatic power and command of resource seem to expand in proportion. Notable illustrations of original and effective scoring are to be found in his representative oratorios and above all in his grand opera "Ivanhoe."
John Bridge (1844) displays sound scholarship in a respectable list of sacred music, cantatas and orchestral works, but his attainments cannot be compared with those of Mackenzie (1847). The latter is first and foremost an orchestral writer, in fact one might say that his conceptions are wholly orchestral. His isthe realm of realism rather than of idealism. His style reveals no great depth or pathos. There is a mixture of Mendelssohnian and Wagnerian externals. His melody has been styled angular; his harmonic structure is inefficient, and his rhythm monotonous. Mackenzie's orchestration, however, is unusual. Its many excellences afford a striking contrast to the mediocrity of subject-matter. It is powerful and effective, allowing also commendable freedom to the wood-wind. Some interesting passages for flute and oboe in combination with low clarinet arpeggio effects are contained in the cantata "The Story of Sayid." Among Mackenzie's most notable achievements should be mentioned two operas, two Scotch rhapsodies, and his magnum opus, a dramatic oratorio entitled "The Rose of Sharon."
There is a double interest in examining the musical compositions of Charles Hubert Parry (1848) in consequence of his having enriched the world with a scholarly and broad-minded work entitled "The Evolution of the Art of Music." This standard book has been quoted from more than once in the course of these pages. Parry has tried his hand at all forms of composition, including chamber music, symphonies and oratorios. There is a natural hesitation to pass individual judgment on these works, so the criticism of two contemporary Englishmen will be referred to instead. These two are Willeby and Stanford. In general terms, Willeby speaks of Parry as a man of wide experience and absolute sincerity, and as one "devoted to liberation." He then goes on to say that Parry's works show traces of Beethoven, especially of Brahms, somewhat of Händel and Mendelssohn, whereas his earlier "Prometheus Unbound" is conceived in the "Tristan" style; but the "human" element is lacking. The most complex methods are employed to attain the desired results. The obvious avoidance of natural cadences is carried to an extreme. The melodies are stately and self-possessed but become monotonous. So much for Parry's style. As to his orchestration, the opinion of Dr. Stanford is presumably authoritative and is appendedverbatim: "His orchestral sense is by no means his most highly developed sense, for while there is no lack of sonority in his scoring, there is not infrequently all too little of 'fancy.' What leanings he has in this art are certainly more toward Wagner than Berlioz, and sometimes the incongruity of Wagner in the orchestra and Brahms in the music is by no means compensated for by what there is of Parry in both."[106]
Cowen (1852) stands as one of the representative English exponents of both absolute and programmatic symphonic writing. Of his five characteristic symphonies, special reference is due to the "Scandinavian," No. 3, the "Welsh," No. 4, and the one in F, No. 5. The fact that this later symphony, No. 5, contains no programmatic idea, leads to some conjecture as to what Cowen's motive was in returning to the conservatism of pure and abstract music. This work embodies considerable depth of sentiment, sombre orchestral coloring, and a possible touch of Chopin. Cowen has written several operas, but special significance is attached to his choral work "The Sleeping Beauty," in that it incorporates Wagner's principle of representative themes together with their skilful thematic development. The orchestra plays an exceedingly important rôle, even to the occasional detriment of the vocal parts.
Having listened to what Stanford had to say about Parry, let us see what Stanford's music has to say for its author. Here again one discovers the accomplished scholar rather than the artistic dreamer. Stanford (1852) has proved himself an eminent conductor and professor, but as composer, his emotional capacity is evidently limited, and his music lacks the very essentials of ideal love and impassioned sentiment so conspicuous, for example, in Félicien David's ardent conceptions. Compare the glowing colors in David's "Lalla Rookh" with those in Stanford's opera "The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan." The latter does, indeed, suggest "local" color, but there is no evidence of sensuous Eastern charm. Stanford's right to share with Cowen the rank of representative English symphonist is undisputed. His fertile pen has produced an honorable series of orchestral works that include a festival overture and four symphonies. Prominent among these is the "Irish Symphony," which again reveals a striving after characteristic portrayal. Willeby also makes reference to this in the following terms: "Here, for the obtainment of local color, he has called to his aid all kinds of melodies and 'modes.' The 'Aeolian' mode transposed, which consists of the scale having its semitonic intervals between the second and third, and fifth and sixth degrees, and the 'Mixolydian,' with its semitones between the third and fourth, and sixth and seventh degrees, are both extensively used."[107]
During the last few years a new star has risen on the British horizon, one that promises to become a permanency,—Edward Elgar (1851). His talent is conspicuous, and he is fast winning his way through sheer merit. Henderson goes so far as to write of him as "the most promising of modern composers," though this is a matter of opinion. At all events, Elgar stands out in marked contrast to his more self-restrained countrymen in that he dares to break through the barriers ofBritish good form by employing a language of emotional eloquence and dramatic intensity. His handling of vocal forces does not by any means discard the time-honored doctrines of Bach and Händel so tenaciously adhered to in England, but he combines classic polyphony with modern expedients of unfettered chromatic harmony and throbbing orchestration. His "Dream of Gerontius" and his "The Apostles" should convince his compatriots that heretofore they have been content to compose in a manner all too sedate and unemotional. Bennett founded a "new school" of English music in the early part of the nineteenth century. It may be that the time has now come for a second "new school" which shall meet the requirements of the twentieth century.[108]