HOW TO LISTEN TO MUSIC

HINTS AND SUGGESTIONS TO UNTAUGHT LOVERS OF THE ART

BY

HENRY EDWARD KREHBIEL

_Author of "Studies in the Wagnerian Drama, " "Notes on the Cultivationof Choral Music, " "The Philharmonic Society of New York, " etc. _

_SEVENTH EDITION_

NEW YORKCHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS1897

COPYRIGHT, 1896, BYCHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

TROW DIRECTORYPRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANYNEW YORK

 * * * * *

TO

W. J. HENDERSON

WHO HAS HELPED ME TO RESPECT MUSICAL CRITICISM

 * * * * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE

The author is beholden to the Messrs. Harper & Brothers for permissionto use a small portion of the material in Chapter I. , the greater partof Chapter IV. , and the Plates which were printed originally in one oftheir publications; also to the publishers of "The Looker-On" for theprivilege of reprinting a portion of an essay written for thementitled "Singers, Then and Now. "

CONTENTS

[Sidenote: CHAP. I. ]

_Introduction_

Purpose and scope of this book--Not written for professionalmusicians, but for untaught lovers of the art--neither for carelessseekers after diversion unless they be willing to accept a higherconception of what "entertainment" means--The capacity properly tolisten to music as a touchstone of musical talent--It is rarely foundin popular concert-rooms--Travellers who do not see and listeners whodo not hear--Music is of all the arts that which is practised most andthought about least--Popular ignorance of the art caused by the lackof an object for comparison--How simple terms are confounded byliterary men--Blunders by Tennyson, Lamb, Coleridge, Mrs. HarrietBeecher Stowe, F. Hopkinson Smith, Brander Matthews, and others--Awarning against pedants and rhapsodists. _Page 3_

[Sidenote: CHAP. II. ]

_Recognition of Musical Elements_

The dual nature of music--Sense-perception, fancy, andimagination--Recognition of Design as Form in its primary stages--Thecrude materials of music--The co-ordination of tones--Rudimentaryanalysis of Form--Comparison, as in other arts, notpossible--Recognition of the fundamental elements--Melody, Harmony, and Rhythm--The value of memory--The need of anintermediary--Familiar music best liked--Interrelation of theelements--Repetition the fundamental principle of Form--Motives, Phrases, and Periods--A Creole folk-tune analyzed--Repetition at thebase of poetic forms--Refrain and Parallelism--Key-relationship as abond of union--Symphonic unity illustrated in examples fromBeethoven--The C minor symphony and "Appassionata" sonata--TheConcerto in G major--The Seventh and Ninth symphonies. _Page 15_

[Sidenote: CHAP. III. ]

_The Content and Kinds of Music_

How far it is necessary for the listener to go into musicalphilosophy--Intelligent hearing not conditioned upon it--Man'sindividual relationship to the art--Musicians proceed on the theorythat feelings are the content of music--The search for pictures andstories condemned--How composers hear and judge--Definitions of thecapacity of music by Wagner, Hauptmann, and Mendelssohn--An utteranceby Herbert Spencer--Music as a language--Absolute music and Programmemusic--The content of all true art works--Chamber music--Meaning andorigin of the term--Haydn the servant of a Prince--The characteristicsof Chamber music--Pure thought, lofty imagination, and deeplearning--Its chastity--Sympathy between performers and listenersessential to its enjoyment--A correct definition of Programmemusic--Programme music defended--The value of titles andsuperscriptions--Judgment upon it must, however, go to the music, notthe commentary--Subjects that are unfit for music--Kinds of Programmemusic--Imitative music--How the music of birds has been utilized--Thecuckoo of nature and Beethoven's cuckoo--Cock and hen in a seventeenthcentury composition--Rameau's pullet--The German quail--Music that isdescriptive by suggestion--External and internal attributes--Fancy andImagination--Harmony and the major and minor mode--Association ofideas--Movement delineated--Handel's frogs--Water in the "Hebrides"overture and "Ocean" symphony--Height and depth illustrated by acuteand grave tones--Beethoven's illustration of distance--His ruleenforced--Classical and Romantic music--Genesis of the terms--Whatthey mean in literature--Archbishop Trench on classical books--Theauthor's definitions of both terms in music--Classicism as theconservative principle, Romanticism as the progressive, regenerative, and creative--A contest which stimulates life. _Page 36_

[Sidenote: CHAP. IV. ]

_The Modern Orchestra_

Importance of the instrumental band--Some things that can be learnedby its study--The orchestral choirs--Disposition of the players--Modelbands compared--Development of instrumental music--The extent of anorchestra's register--The Strings: Violin, Viola, Violoncello, andDouble-bass--Effects produced by changes in manipulation--Thewood-winds: Flute, Oboe, English horn, Bassoon, Clarinet--The Brass:French Horn, Trumpet and Cornet, Trombone, Tuba--The Drums--TheConductor--Rise of the modern interpreter--The need of him--Hismethods--Scores and Score-reading. _Page 71_

[Sidenote: CHAP. V. ]

_At an Orchestral Concert_

"Classical" and "Popular" as generally conceived--Symphony Orchestrasand Military bands--The higher forms in music as exemplified at aclassical concert--Symphonies, Overtures, Symphonic Poems, Concertos, etc. --A Symphony not a union of unrelated parts--History of thename--The Sonata form and cyclical compositions--The bond of unionbetween the divisions of a Symphony--Material and spiritual links--Thefirst movement and the sonata form--"Exposition, illustration, andrepetition"--The subjects and their treatment--Keys and nomenclatureof the Symphony--The _Adagio_ or second movement--The _Scherzo_ andits relation to the Minuet--The Finale and the Rondo form--The latterillustrated in outline by a poem--Modifications of the symphonic formby Beethoven, Schumann, Berlioz, Mendelssohn, Liszt, Saint-Saëns andDvorák--Augmentation of the forces--Symphonies with voices--TheSymphonic Poem--Its three characteristics--Concertos and Cadenzas--M. Ysaye's opinion of the latter--Designations in Chamber music--TheOverture and its descendants--Smaller forms: Serenades, Fantasias, Rhapsodies, Variations, Operatic Excerpts. _Page 122_

[Sidenote: CHAP. VI. ]

_At a Pianoforte Recital_

The Popularity of Pianoforte music exemplified in M. Paderewski'srecitals--The instrument--A universal medium of music study--Itsdefects and merits contrasted--Not a perfect melody instrument--Valueof the percussive element--Technique; the false and the true estimateof its value--Pianoforte literature as illustrated in recitals--Itsdivision, for the purposes of this study, into four periods: Classic, Classic-romantic, Romantic, and Bravura--Precursors of thePianoforte--The Clavichord and Harpsichord, and the music composed forthem--Peculiarities of Bach's style--His Romanticism--Scarlatti'sSonatas--The Suite and its constituents--Allemande, Courante, Sarabande, Gigue, Minuet, and Gavotte--The technique of theperiod--How Bach and Handel played--Beethoven and the Sonata--Mozartand Beethoven as pianists--The Romantic composers--Schumann and Chopinand the forms used by them--Schumann and Jean Paul--Chopin's Preludes, Études, Nocturnes, Ballades, Polonaises, Mazurkas, Krakowiak--Thetechnique of the Romantic period--"Idiomatic" pianofortemusic--Development of the instrument--The Pedal and its use--Liszt andhis Hungarian Rhapsodies. _Page 154_

[Sidenote: CHAP. VII. ]

_At the Opera_

Instability of popular taste in respect of operas--Our lists seldomextend back of the present century--The people of to-day asindifferent as those of two centuries ago to the language used--Useand abuse of foreign languages--The Opera defended as an art-form--Itsorigin in the Greek tragedies--Why music is the language of emotion--Ascientific explanation--Herbert Spencer's laws--Efforts of Florentinescholars to revive the classic tragedy result in the invention of thelyric drama--The various kinds of Opera: _Opera seria_, _Opera buffa_, _Opera semiseria_, French _grand Opéra_, and _Opéracomique_--Operettas and musical farces--Romantic Opera--A popularconception of German opera--A return to the old terminology led byWagner--The recitative: Its nature, aims, and capacities--The changefrom speech to song--The arioso style, the accompanied recitative andthe aria--Music and dramatic action--Emancipation from set forms--Theorchestra--The decay of singing--Feats of the masters of the Romanschool and La Bastardella--Degeneracy of the Opera of theirday--Singers who have been heard in New York--Two generations ofsingers compared--Grisi, Jenny Lind, Sontag, La Grange, Piccolomini, Adelina Patti, Nilsson, Sembrich, Lucca, Gerster, Lehmann, Melba, Eames, Calvé, Mario, Jean and Edouard de Reszke--Wagner and hisworks--Operas and lyric dramas--Wagner's return to the principles ofthe Florentine reformers--Interdependence of elements in a lyricdrama--Forms and the endless melody--The Typical Phrases: How theyshould be studied. _Page 202_

[Sidenote: CHAP. VIII. ]

_Choirs and Choral Music_

Value of chorus singing in musical culture--Schumann's advice tostudents--Choristers and instrumentalists--Amateurs andprofessionals--Oratorio and _Männergesang_--The choirs of Handel andBach--Glee Unions, Male Clubs, and Women's Choirs--Boys' voices notadapted to modern music--Mixed choirs--American Origin of amateursinging societies--Priority over Germany--The size of choirs--Largenumbers not essential--How choirs are divided--Antiphonaleffects--Excellence in choir singing--Precision, intonation, expression, balance of tone, enunciation, pronunciation, declamation--The cause of monotony in Oratorio performances--_Acapella_ music--Genesis of modern hymnology--Influence of Luther andthe Germans--Use of popular melodies by composers--Thechorale--Preservation of the severe style of writing in choralmusic--Palestrina and Bach--A study of their styles--Latin andTeuton--Church and individual--Motets and Church Cantatas--ThePassions--The Oratorio--Sacred opera and Cantata--Epic andDrama--Characteristic and descriptive music--The Mass: Itssecularization and musical development--The dramatic tendencyillustrated in Beethoven and Berlioz. _Page 253_

[Sidenote: CHAP. IX. ]

_Musician, Critic and Public_

Criticism justified--Relationship between Musician, Critic andPublic--To end the conflict between them would result instagnation--How the Critic might escape--The Musician prefers toappeal to the public rather than to the Critic--Why this isso--Ignorance as a safeguard against and promoter ofconservatism--Wagner and Haydn--The Critic as the enemy of thecharlatan--Temptations to which he is exposed--Value of popularapprobation--Schumann's aphorisms--The Public neither bad judges norgood critics--The Critic's duty is to guide popularjudgment--Fickleness of the people's opinions--Taste and judgment nota birthright--The necessity of antecedent study--The Critic'sresponsibility--Not always that toward the Musician which the latterthinks--How the newspaper can work for good--Must the Critic be aMusician?--Pedants and Rhapsodists--Demonstrable facts incriticism--The folly and viciousness of foolish rhapsody--The Rev. Mr. Haweis cited--Ernst's violin--Intelligent rhapsody approved--Dr. JohnBrown on Beethoven--The Critic's duty. _Page 297_

 * * * * *

PLATES

I. VIOLIN--(CLIFFORD SCHMIDT). --II. VIOLONCELLO--(VICTORHERBERT). --III. PICCOLO FLUTE--(C. KURTH, JUN. ). --IV. OBOE--(JOSEPHELLER). --V. ENGLISH HORN--(JOSEPH ELLER). --VI. BASSOON (FEDORBERNHARDI). --VII. CLARINET--(HENRY KAISER). --VIII. BASSCLARINET--(HENRY KAISER). --IX. FRENCH HORN--(CARL PIEPER). --X. TROMBONE--(J. PFEIFFENSCHNEIDER). --XI. BASS TUBA--(ANTONREITER). --XII. THE CONDUCTOR'S SCORE. _Page 325_

INDEX _Page 351_

How to Listen to Music

I

_Introduction_

[Sidenote: _The book's appeal. _]

This book has a purpose, which is as simple as it is plain; and anunpretentious scope. It does not aim to edify either the musicalprofessor or the musical scholar. It comes into the presence of themusical student with all becoming modesty. Its business is with thosewho love music and present themselves for its gracious ministrationsin Concert-Room and Opera House, but have not studied it as professorsand scholars are supposed to study. It is not for the careless unlessthey be willing to inquire whether it might not be well to yield thecommon conception of entertainment in favor of the higher enjoymentwhich springs from serious contemplation of beautiful things; but ifthey are willing so to inquire, they shall be accounted the classthat the author is most anxious to reach. The reasons which promptedits writing and the laying out of its plan will presently appear. Forthe frankness of his disclosure the author might be willing toapologize were his reverence for music less and his consideration forpopular affectations more; but because he is convinced that a love formusic carries with it that which, so it be but awakened, shallspeedily grow into an honest desire to know more about the belovedobject, he is willing to seem unamiable to the amateur while arguingthe need of even so mild a stimulant as his book, and ingenuous, mayhap even childish, to the professional musician while trying topoint a way in which better appreciation may be sought. 

[Sidenote: _Talent in listening. _]

The capacity properly to listen to music is better proof of musicaltalent in the listener than skill to play upon an instrument orability to sing acceptably when unaccompanied by that capacity. Itmakes more for that gentleness and refinement of emotion, thought, andaction which, in the highest sense of the term, it is the province ofmusic to promote. And it is a much rarer accomplishment. I cannotconceive anything more pitiful than the spectacle of men and womenperched on a fair observation point exclaiming rapturously at theloveliness of mead and valley, their eyes melting involuntarily intenderness at the sight of moss-carpeted slopes and rocks and peacefulwood, or dilating in reverent wonder at mountain magnificence, andthen learning from their exclamations that, as a matter of fact, theyare unable to distinguish between rock and tree, field and forest, earth and sky; between the dark-browns of the storm-scarred rock, thegreens of the foliage, and the blues of the sky. 

[Sidenote: _Ill equipped listeners. _]

Yet in the realm of another sense, in the contemplation of beautiesmore ethereal and evanescent than those of nature, such is theexperience which in my capacity as a writer for newspapers I have madefor many years. A party of people blind to form and color cannot besaid to be well equipped for a Swiss journey, though loaded down withalpenstocks and Baedekers; yet the spectacle of such a party on thetop of the Rigi is no more pitiful and anomalous than that presentedby the majority of the hearers in our concert-rooms. They are there toadventure a journey into a realm whose beauties do not disclosethemselves to the senses alone, but whose perception requires aco-operation of all the finer faculties; yet of this they seem to knownothing, and even of that sense to which the first appeal is made itmay be said with profound truth that "hearing they hear not, neitherdo they understand. "

[Sidenote: _Popular ignorance of music. _]

Of all the arts, music is practised most and thought about least. Whythis should be the case may be explained on several grounds. A sweetmystery enshrouds the nature of music. Its material part is subtle andelusive. To master it on its technical side alone costs a vastexpenditure of time, patience, and industry. But since it is, in onemanifestation or another, the most popular of the arts, and one theenjoyment of which is conditioned in a peculiar degree on love, itremains passing strange that the indifference touching its nature andelements, and the character of the phenomena which produce it, or areproduced by it, is so general. I do not recall that anybody has evertried to ground this popular ignorance touching an art of which, byright of birth, everybody is a critic. The unamiable nature of thetask, of which I am keenly conscious, has probably been a bar to suchan undertaking. But a frank diagnosis must precede the discovery of acure for every disease, and I have undertaken to point out a way inwhich this grievous ailment in the social body may at least belessened. 

[Sidenote: _Paucity of intelligent comment. _]

[Sidenote: _Want of a model. _]

It is not an exaggeration to say that one might listen for a lifetimeto the polite conversation of our drawing-rooms (and I do not mean bythis to refer to the United States alone) without hearing a symphonytalked about in terms indicative of more than the most superficialknowledge of the outward form, that is, the dimensions and apparatus, of such a composition. No other art provides an exact analogy for thisphenomenon. Everybody can say something containing a degree ofappositeness about a poem, novel, painting, statue, or building. If hecan do no more he can go as far as Landseer's rural critic whoobjected to one of the artist's paintings on the ground that not oneof the three pigs eating from a trough had a foot in it. It is theabsence of the standard of judgment employed in this criticism whichmakes significant talk about music so difficult. Nature failed toprovide a model for this ethereal art. There is nothing in the naturalworld with which the simple man may compare it. 

[Sidenote: _Simple terms confounded. _]

It is not alone a knowledge of the constituent factors of a symphony, or the difference between a sonata and a suite, a march and a mazurka, that is rare. Unless you chance to be listening to the conversation ofmusicians (in which term I wish to include amateurs who are what theword amateur implies, and whose knowledge stands in some respectablerelation to their love), you will find, so frequently that I have notthe heart to attempt an estimate of the proportion, that the mostcommon words in the terminology of the art are misapplied. Suchfamiliar things as harmony and melody, time and tune, are continuallyconfounded. Let us call a distinguished witness into the box; theinstance is not new, but it will serve. What does Tennyson mean whenhe says:

 "All night have the roses heard The flute, violin, bassoon; All night has the casement jessamine stirr'd To the dancers dancing in tune?"

[Sidenote: _Tune and time. _]

Unless the dancers who wearied Maud were provided with even a moreextraordinary instrumental outfit than the Old Lady of Banbury Cross, how could they have danced "in tune?"

[Sidenote: _Blunders of poets and essayists. _]

Musical study of a sort being almost as general as study of the "threeRs, " it must be said that the gross forms of ignorance are utterlyinexcusable. But if this is obvious, it is even more obvious thatthere is something radically wrong with the prevalent systems ofmusical instruction. It is because of a plentiful lack of knowledgethat so much that is written on music is without meaning, and thatthe most foolish kind of rhapsody, so it show a collocation of finewords, is permitted to masquerade as musical criticism and evenanalysis. People like to read about music, and the books of a certainEnglish clergyman have had a sale of stupendous magnitudenotwithstanding they are full of absurdities. The clergyman has amultitudinous companionship, moreover, among novelists, essayists, andpoets whose safety lies in more or less fantastic generalization whenthey come to talk about music. How they flounder when they come todetail! It was Charles Lamb who said, in his "Chapter on Ears, " thatin voices he could not distinguish a soprano from a tenor, and couldonly contrive to guess at the thorough-bass from its being"supereminently harsh and disagreeable;" yet dear old Elia may beforgiven, since his confounding the bass voice with a system ofmusical short-hand is so delightful a proof of the ignorance he wasconfessing. 

[Sidenote: _Literary realism and musical terminology. _]

But what shall the troubled critics say to Tennyson's orchestraconsisting of a flute, violin, and bassoon? Or to Coleridge's "_loud_bassoon, " which made the wedding-guest to beat his breast? Or to Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe's pianist who played "with an airy and bird-liketouch?" Or to our own clever painter-novelist who, in "Snubbin'through Jersey, " has Brushes bring out his violoncello and play "thesymphonies of Beethoven" to entertain his fellow canal-boatpassengers? The tendency toward realism, or "veritism, " as it iscalled, has brought out a rich crop of blunders. It will not do tohave a character in a story simply sing or play something; we musthave the names of composers and compositions. The genial gentleman whoenriched musical literature with arrangements of Beethoven'ssymphonies for violoncello without accompaniment has sincesupplemented this feat by creating a German fiddler who, when hethinks himself unnoticed, plays a sonata for violin and contraltovoice; Professor Brander Matthews permits one of his heroines to singSchumann's "Warum?" and one of his heroes plays "The MoonlightConcerto;" one of Ouida's romantic creatures spends hours at an organ"playing the grand old masses of Mendelssohn;" in "Moths" the tenornever wearies of singing certain "exquisite airs of Palestrina, " whichrecalls the fact that an indignant correspondent of a St. Louisnewspaper, protesting against the Teutonism and heaviness of anorchestra conductor's programmes, demanded some of the "lighter" worksof "Berlioz and Palestrina. "

[Sidenote: _A popular need. _]

Alas! these things and the many others equally amusing which Mr. G. Sutherland Edwards long ago catalogued in an essay on "The LiteraryMaltreatment of Music" are but evidences that even cultured folk havenot yet learned to talk correctly about the art which is practisedmost widely. There is a greater need than pianoforte teachers andsinging teachers, and that is a numerous company of writers andtalkers who shall teach the people how to listen to music so that itshall not pass through their heads like a vast tonal phantasmagoria, but provide the varied and noble delights contemplated by thecomposers. 

[Sidenote: _A warning against writers. _]

[Sidenote: _Pedants and rhapsodists. _]

Ungracious as it might appear, it may yet not be amiss, therefore, atthe very outset of an inquiry into the proper way in which to listento music, to utter a warning against much that is written on the art. As a rule it will be found that writers on music are divided into twoclasses, and that neither of these classes can do much good. Too oftenthey are either pedants or rhapsodists. This division is whollynatural. Music has many sides and is a science as well as an art. Itsscientific side is that on which the pedant generally approaches it. He is concerned with forms and rules, with externals, to theforgetting of that which is inexpressibly nobler and higher. But thepedants are not harmful, because they are not interesting; strictlyspeaking, they do not write for the public at all, but only for theirprofessional colleagues. The harmful men are the foolish rhapsodistswho take advantage of the fact that the language of music isindeterminate and evanescent to talk about the art in such a way as topresent themselves as persons of exquisite sensibilities rather thanto direct attention to the real nature and beauty of music itself. Tothem I shall recur in a later chapter devoted to musical criticism, and haply point out the difference between good and bad critics andcommentators from the view-point of popular need and popularopportunity. 

II

_Recognition of Musical Elements_

[Sidenote: _The nature of music. _]

Music is dual in its nature; it is material as well as spiritual. Itsmaterial side we apprehend through the sense of hearing, andcomprehend through the intellect; its spiritual side reaches usthrough the fancy (or imagination, so it be music of the highestclass), and the emotional part of us. If the scope and capacity of theart, and the evolutionary processes which its history discloses (arecord of which is preserved in its nomenclature), are to beunderstood, it is essential that this duality be kept in view. Thereis something so potent and elemental in the appeal which music makesthat it is possible to derive pleasure from even an unwilling hearingor a hearing unaccompanied by effort at analysis; but realappreciation of its beauty, which means recognition of the qualitieswhich put it in the realm of art, is conditioned upon intelligenthearing. The higher the intelligence, the keener will be theenjoyment, if the former be directed to the spiritual side as well asthe material. 

[Sidenote: _Necessity of intelligent hearing. _]

So far as music is merely agreeably co-ordinated sounds, it may bereduced to mathematics and its practice to handicraft. But recognitionof design is a condition precedent to the awakening of the fancy orthe imagination, and to achieve such recognition there must beintelligent hearing in the first instance. For the purposes of thisstudy, design may be held to be Form in its primary stages, therecognition of which is possible to every listener who is fond ofmusic; it is not necessary that he be learned in the science. He needonly be willing to let an intellectual process, which will bring itsown reward, accompany the physical process of hearing. 

[Sidenote: _Tones and musical material. _]

Without discrimination it is impossible to recognize even the crudematerials of music, for the first step is already a co-ordination ofthose materials. A tone becomes musical material only by associationwith another tone. We might hear it alone, study its quality, anddetermine its degree of acuteness or gravity (its pitch, as musicianssay), but it can never become music so long as it remains isolated. When we recognize that it bears certain relationships with other tonesin respect of time or tune (to use simple terms), it has become for usmusical material. We do not need to philosophize about the nature ofthose relationships, but we must recognize their existence. 

[Sidenote: _The beginnings of Form. _]

Thus much we might hear if we were to let music go through our headslike water through a sieve. Yet the step from that degree ofdiscrimination to a rudimentary analysis of Form is exceedingly short, and requires little more than a willingness to concentrate theattention and exercise the memory. Everyone is willing to do that muchwhile looking at a picture. Who would look at a painting and restsatisfied with the impression made upon the sense of sight by thecolors merely? No one, surely. Yet so soon as we look, so as todiscriminate between the outlines, to observe the relationship offigure to figure, we are indulging in intellectual exercise. If thisbe a condition precedent to the enjoyment of a picture (and it plainlyis), how much more so is it in the case of music, which is intangibleand evanescent, which cannot pause a moment for our contemplationwithout ceasing to be?

[Sidenote: _Comparison with a model not possible. _]

There is another reason why we must exercise intelligence inlistening, to which I have already alluded in the first chapter. Ourappreciation of beauty in the plastic arts is helped by thecircumstance that the critical activity is largely a matter ofcomparison. Is the picture or the statue a good copy of the objectsought to be represented? Such comparison fails us utterly in music, which copies nothing that is tangibly present in the external world. 

[Sidenote: _What degree of knowledge is necessary?_]

[Sidenote: _The Elements. _]

[Sidenote: _Value of memory. _]

It is then necessary to associate the intellect with sense perceptionin listening to music. How far is it essential that the intellectualprocess shall go? This book being for the untrained, the questionmight be put thus: With how little knowledge of the science can anintelligent listener get along? We are concerned only with hisenjoyment of music or, better, with an effort to increase it withoutasking him to become a musician. If he is fond of the art it is morethan likely that the capacity to discriminate sufficiently torecognize the elements out of which music is made has come to himintuitively. Does he recognize that musical tones are related to eachother in respect of time and pitch? Then it shall not be difficult forhim to recognize the three elements on which music rests--Melody, Harmony, and Rhythm. Can he recognize them with sufficientdistinctness to seize upon their manifestations while music issounding? Then memory shall come to the aid of discrimination, and heshall be able to appreciate enough of design to point the way to atrue and lofty appreciation of the beautiful in music. The value ofmemory is for obvious reasons very great in musical enjoyment. Thepicture remains upon the wall, the book upon the library shelf. If wehave failed to grasp a detail at the first glance or reading, we needbut turn again to the picture or open the book anew. We may see thepicture in a changed light, or read the poem in a different mood, butthe outlines, colors, ideas are fixed for frequent and patientperusal. Music goes out of existence with every performance, and mustbe recreated at every hearing. 

[Sidenote: _An intermediary necessary. _]

Not only that, but in the case of all, so far as some forms areconcerned, and of all who are not practitioners in others, it isnecessary that there shall be an intermediary between the composer andthe listener. The written or printed notes are not music; they areonly signs which indicate to the performer what to do to call tonesinto existence such as the composer had combined into an art-work inhis mind. The broadly trained musician can read the symbols; they stirhis imagination, and he hears the music in his imagination as thecomposer heard it. But the untaught music-lover alone can get nothingfrom the printed page; he must needs wait till some one else shallagain waken for him the

 "Sound of a voice that is still. "

[Sidenote: _The value of memory. _]

This is one of the drawbacks which are bound up in the nature ofmusic; but it has ample compensation in the unusual pleasure whichmemory brings. In the case of the best music, familiarity breedsever-growing admiration. New compositions are slowly received; theymake their way to popular appreciation only by repeated performances;the people like best the songs as well as the symphonies which theyknow. The quicker, therefore, that we are in recognizing the melodic, harmonic, and rhythmic contents of a new composition, and the more aptour memory in seizing upon them for the operation of the fancy, thegreater shall be our pleasure. 

[Sidenote: _Melody, Harmony, and Rhythm. _]

[Sidenote: _Comprehensiveness of Melody. _]

In simple phrase Melody is a well-ordered series of tones heardsuccessively; Harmony, a well-ordered series heard simultaneously;Rhythm, a symmetrical grouping of tonal time units vitalized byaccent. The life-blood of music is Melody, and a complete conceptionof the term embodies within itself the essence of both its companions. A succession of tones without harmonic regulation is not a perfectelement in music; neither is a succession of tones which have harmonicregulation but are void of rhythm. The beauty and expressiveness, especially the emotionality, of a musical composition depend upon theharmonies which either accompany the melody in the form of chords (agroup of melodic intervals sounded simultaneously), or are latent inthe melody itself (harmonic intervals sounded successively). Melody isHarmony analyzed; Harmony is Melody synthetized. 

[Sidenote: _Repetition. _]

[Sidenote: _A melody analyzed. _]

The fundamental principle of Form is repetition of melodies, which areto music what ideas are to poetry. Melodies themselves are made byrepetition of smaller fractions called motives (a term borrowed fromthe fine arts), phrases, and periods, which derive their individualityfrom their rhythmical or intervallic characteristics. Melodies arenot all of the simple kind which the musically illiterate, or themusically ill-trained, recognize as "tunes, " but they all have asymmetrical organization. The dissection of a simple folk-tune mayserve to make this plain and also indicate to the untrained how asingle feature may be taken as a mark of identification and aholding-point for the memory. Here is the melody of a Creole songcalled sometimes _Pov' piti Lolotte_, sometimes _Pov' piti MomzelleZizi_, in the patois of Louisiana and Martinique:

[Music illustration]

[Sidenote: _Motives, phrases, and periods. _]

It will be as apparent to the eye of one who cannot read music as itwill to his ear when he hears this melody played, that it is built upof two groups of notes only. These groups are marked off by the heavylines across the staff called bars, whose purpose it is to indicaterhythmical subdivisions in music. The second, third, fifth, sixth, andseventh of these groups are repetitions merely of the first group, which is the germ of the melody, but on different degrees of thescale; the fourth and eighth groups are identical and are an appendagehitched to the first group for the purpose of bringing it to a close, supplying a resting-point craved by man's innate sense of symmetry. Musicians call such groups cadences. A musical analyst would call eachgroup a motive, and say that each successive two groups, beginningwith the first, constitute a phrase, each two phrases a period, andthe two periods a melody. We have therefore in this innocent Creoletune eight motives, four phrases, and two periods; yet its material issummed up in two groups, one of seven notes, one of five, which onlyneed to be identified and remembered to enable a listener to recognizesomething of the design of a composer if he were to put the melody tothe highest purposes that melody can be put in the art of musicalcomposition. 

[Sidenote: _Repetition in music. _]

Repetition is the constructive principle which was employed by thefolk-musician in creating this melody; and repetition is thefundamental principle in all musical construction. It will suffice formany merely to be reminded of this to appreciate the fact that whilethe exercise of memory is a most necessary activity in listening tomusic, it lies in music to make that exercise easy. There isrepetition of motives, phrases, and periods in melody; repetition ofmelodies in parts; and repetition of parts in the wholes of the largerforms. 

[Sidenote: _Repetition in poetry. _]

The beginnings of poetic forms are also found in repetition; inprimitive poetry it is exemplified in the refrain or burden, in thehighly developed poetry of the Hebrews in parallelism. The Psalmistwrote:

 "O Lord, rebuke me not in thy wrath, Neither chasten me in thy hot displeasure. "

[Sidenote: _Key relationship. _]

Here is a period of two members, the latter repeating the thought ofthe former. A musical analyst might find in it an admirable analoguefor the first period of a simple melody. He would divide it into fourmotives: "Rebuke me not | in thy wrath | neither chasten me | in thyhot displeasure, " and point out as intimate a relationship betweenthem as exists in the Creole tune. The bond of union between themotives of the melody as well as that in the poetry illustrates aprinciple of beauty which is the most important element in musicaldesign after repetition, which is its necessary vehicle. It is becausethis principle guides the repetition of the tone-groups that togetherthey form a melody that is perfect, satisfying, and reposeful. It isthe principle of key-relationship, to discuss which fully would carryme farther into musical science than I am permitted to go. Let thissuffice: A harmony is latent in each group, and the sequence of groupsis such a sequence as the experience of ages has demonstrated to bemost agreeable to the ear. 

[Sidenote: _The rhythmical stamp. _]

[Sidenote: _The principle of Unity. _]

In the case of the Creole melody the listener is helped to a quickappreciation of its form by the distinct physiognomy which rhythm hasstamped upon it; and it is by noting such a characteristic that thememory can best be aided in its work of identification. It is notnecessary for a listener to follow all the processes of a composer inorder to enjoy his music, but if he cultivates the habit of followingthe principal themes through a work of the higher class he will notonly enjoy the pleasures of memory but will frequently get a glimpseinto the composer's purposes which will stimulate his imagination andmightily increase his enjoyment. There is nothing can guide him moresurely to a recognition of the principle of unity, which makes asymphony to be an organic whole instead of a group of pieces which areonly externally related. The greatest exemplar of this principle isBeethoven; and his music is the best in which to study it for thereason that he so frequently employs material signs for the spiritualbond. So forcibly has this been impressed upon me at times that I amalmost willing to believe that a keen analytical student of his musicmight arrange his greater works into groups of such as were in processof composition at the same time without reference to his personalhistory. Take the principal theme of the C minor Symphony for example:

[Music illustration]

[Sidenote: _A rhythmical motive pursued. _]

This simple, but marvellously pregnant, motive is not only the kernelof the first movement, it is the fundamental thought of the wholesymphony. We hear its persistent beat in the scherzo as well:

[Music illustration]

and also in the last movement:

[Music illustration]

More than this, we find the motive haunting the first movement of thepianoforte sonata in F minor, op. 57, known as the "SonataAppassionata, " now gloomily, almost morosely, proclamative in thebass, now interrogative in the treble:

[Music illustration]

[Sidenote: _Relationships in Beethoven's works. _]

[Sidenote: _The C minor Symphony and "Appassionata" sonata. _]

[Sidenote: _Beethoven's G major Concerto. _]

Schindler relates that when once he asked Beethoven to tell him whatthe F minor and the D minor (Op. 31, No. 2) sonatas meant, he receivedfor an answer only the enigmatical remark: "Read Shakespeare's'Tempest. '" Many a student and commentator has since read the"Tempest" in the hope of finding a clew to the emotional contentswhich Beethoven believed to be in the two works, so singularlyassociated, only to find himself baffled. It is a fancy, which restsperhaps too much on outward things, but still one full of suggestion, that had Beethoven said: "Hear my C minor Symphony, " he would havegiven a better starting-point to the imagination of those who areseeking to know what the F minor sonata means. Most obviously it meansmusic, but it means music that is an expression of one of thosepsychological struggles which Beethoven felt called upon more and moreto delineate as he was more and more shut out from the companionshipof the external world. Such struggles are in the truest sense of theword tempests. The motive, which, according to the story, Beethovenhimself said indicates, in the symphony, the rappings of Fate at thedoor of human existence, is common to two works which are also relatedin their spiritual contents. Singularly enough, too, in both cases thestruggle which is begun in the first movement and continued in thethird, is interrupted by a period of calm reassuring, soul-fortifyingaspiration, which in the symphony as well as in the sonata takes theform of a theme with variations. Here, then, the recognition of asimple rhythmical figure has helped us to an appreciation of thespiritual unity of the parts of a symphony, and provided a commentaryon the poetical contents of a sonata. But the lesson is not yetexhausted. Again do we find the rhythm coloring the first movement ofthe pianoforte concerto in G major:

[Music illustration]

Symphony, concerto, and sonata, as the sketch-books of the mastershow, were in process of creation at the same time. 

[Sidenote: _His Seventh Symphony. _]

Thus far we have been helped in identifying a melody and studyingrelationships by the rhythmical structure of a single motive. Thedemonstration might be extended on the same line into Beethoven'ssymphony in A major, in which the external sign of the poetical ideawhich underlies the whole work is also rhythmic--so markedly so thatWagner characterized it most happily and truthfully when he said thatit was "the apotheosis of the dance. " Here it is the dactyl, [dactylsymbol], which in one variation, or another, clings to us almost aspersistently as in Hood's "Bridge of Sighs:"

 "One more unfortunate Weary of breath, Rashly importunate, Gone to her death. "

[Sidenote: _Use of a dactylic figure. _]

We hear it lightly tripping in the first movement:

[Music illustration] and [Music illustration];

gentle, sedate, tender, measured, through its combination with aspondee in the second:

[Music illustration];

cheerily, merrily, jocosely happy in the Scherzo:

[Music illustration];

hymn-like in the Trio:

[Music illustration]

and wildly bacchanalian when subjected to trochaic abbreviation in theFinale:

[Music illustration]

[Sidenote: _Intervallic characteristics. _]

Intervallic characteristics may place the badge of relationship uponmelodies as distinctly as rhythmic. There is no more perfectillustration of this than that afforded by Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. Speaking of the subject of its finale, Sir George Grove says:

 "And note--while listening to the simple tune itself, before the variations begin--how _very_ simple it is; the plain diatonic scale, not a single chromatic interval, and out of fifty-six notes only three not consecutive. "[A]

[Sidenote: _The melodies in Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. _]

Earlier in the same work, while combating a statement by Lenz that theresemblance between the second subject of the first movement and thechoral melody is a "thematic reference of the most strikingimportance, vindicating the unity of the entire work, and placing thewhole in a perfectly new light, " Sir George says:

 "It is, however, very remarkable that so many of the melodies in the Symphony should consist of consecutive notes, and that in no less than four of them the notes should run up a portion of the scale and down again--apparently pointing to a consistent condition of Beethoven's mind throughout this work. "

[Sidenote: _Melodic likenesses. _]

Like Goethe, Beethoven secreted many a mystery in his masterpiece, buthe did not juggle idly with tones, or select the themes of hissymphonies at hap-hazard; he would be open to the charge, however, ifthe resemblances which I have pointed out in the Fifth and SeventhSymphonies, and those disclosed by the following melodies from hisNinth, should turn out through some incomprehensible revelation to bemere coincidences:

From the first movement:

[Music illustration]

From the second:

[Music illustration]

The choral melody:

[Music illustration]

[Sidenote: _Design and Form. _]

From a recognition of the beginnings of design, to whichidentification of the composer's thematic material and its simplerrelationships will lead, to so much knowledge of Form as will enablethe reader to understand the later chapters in this book, is but astep. 

FOOTNOTES:

[A] "Beethoven and His Nine Symphonies, " p. 374. 

III

_The Content and Kinds of Music_

[Sidenote: _Metaphysics to be avoided herein. _]

Bearing in mind the purpose of this book, I shall not ask the readerto accompany me far afield in the region of æsthetic philosophy ormusical metaphysics. A short excursion is all that is necessary tomake plain what is meant by such terms as Absolute music, Programmemusic, Classical, Romantic, and Chamber music and the like, which notonly confront us continually in discussion, but stand for things whichwe must know if we would read programmes understandingly andappreciate the various phases in which music presents itself to us. Itis interesting and valuable to know why an art-work stirs uppleasurable feelings within us, and to speculate upon its relations tothe intellect and the emotions; but the circumstance thatphilosophers have never agreed, and probably never will agree, onthese points, so far as the art of music is concerned, alone sufficesto remove them from the field of this discussion. 

[Sidenote: _Personal equation in judgment. _]

Intelligent listening is not conditioned upon such knowledge. Evenwhen the study is begun, the questions whether or not music has acontent beyond itself, where that content is to be sought, and howdefined, will be decided in each case by the student for himself, ongrounds which may be said to be as much in his nature as they are inthe argument. The attitude of man toward the art is an individual one, and in some of its aspects defies explanation. 

[Sidenote: _A musical fluid. _]

The amount and kind of pleasure which music gives him are frequentlyas much beyond his understanding and control as they are beyond theunderstanding and control of the man who sits beside him. They areconsequences of just that particular combination of material andspiritual elements, just that blending of muscular, nervous, andcerebral tissues, which make him what he is, which segregate him asan individual from the mass of humanity. We speak of persons assusceptible or insusceptible to music as we speak of good and poorconductors of electricity; and the analogy implied here isparticularly apt and striking. If we were still using the scientificterms of a few decades ago I should say that a musical fluid might yetbe discovered and its laws correlated with those of heat, light, andelectricity. Like them, when reduced to its lowest terms, music is aform of motion, and it should not be difficult on this analogy toconstruct a theory which would account for the physical phenomenawhich accompany the hearing of music in some persons, such as therecession of blood from the face, or an equally sudden suffusion ofthe same veins, a contraction of the scalp accompanied by chillinessor a prickling sensation, or that roughness of the skin calledgoose-flesh, "flesh moved by an idea, flesh horripilated by athought. "

[Sidenote: _Origin of musical elements. _]

[Sidenote: _Feelings and counterpoint. _]

It has been denied that feelings are the content of music, or that itis the mission of music to give expression to feelings; but thescientific fact remains that the fundamental elements of vocalmusic--pitch, quality, and dynamic intensity--are the results offeelings working upon the vocal organs; and even if Mr. HerbertSpencer's theory be rejected, it is too late now to deny that music isconceived by its creators as a language of the emotions and so appliedby them. The German philosopher Herbarth sought to reduce the questionto an absurdity by expressing surprise that musicians should stillbelieve that feelings could be "the proximate cause of the rules ofsimple and double counterpoint;" but Dr. Stainer found a sufficientanswer by accepting the proposition as put, and directing attention tothe fact that the feelings of men having first decided what waspleasurable in polyphony, and the rules of counterpoint havingafterward been drawn from specimens of pleasurable polyphony, it wasentirely correct to say that feelings are the proximate cause of thelaws of counterpoint. 

[Sidenote: _How composers hear music. _]

It is because so many of us have been taught by poets and romancers tothink that there is a picture of some kind, or a story in every pieceof music, and find ourselves unable to agree upon the picture or thestory in any given case, that confusion is so prevalent among themusical laity. Composers seldom find difficulty in understanding eachother. They listen for beauty, and if they find it they look for thecauses which have produced it, and in apprehending beauty andrecognizing means and cause they unvolitionally rise to the planewhence a view of the composer's purposes is clear. Having grasped themood of a composition and found that it is being sustained or variedin a manner accordant with their conceptions of beauty, they occupythemselves with another kind of differentiation altogether than themisled disciples of the musical rhapsodists who overlook the generaldesign and miss the grand proclamation in their search for pettysuggestions for pictures and stories among the details of thecomposition. Let musicians testify for us. In his romance, "EinGlücklicher Abend, " Wagner says:

[Sidenote: _Wagner's axiom. _]

 "That which music expresses is eternal and ideal. It does not give voice to the passion, the love, the longing of this or the other individual, under these or the other circumstances, but to passion, love, longing itself. "

Moritz Hauptmann says:

[Sidenote: _Hauptmann's. _]

 "The same music will admit of the most varied verbal expositions, and of not one of them can it be correctly said that it is exhaustive, the right one, and contains the whole significance of the music. This significance is contained most definitely in the music itself. It is not music that is ambiguous; it says the same thing to everybody; it speaks to mankind and gives voice only to human feelings. Ambiguity only then makes its appearance when each person attempts to formulate in his manner the emotional impression which he has received, when he attempts to fix and hold the ethereal essence of music, to utter the unutterable. "

[Sidenote: _Mendelssohn's. _]

[Sidenote: _The "Songs without Words. "_]

Mendelssohn inculcated the same lesson in a letter which he wrote to ayoung poet who had given titles to a number of the composer's "SongsWithout Words, " and incorporated what he conceived to be theirsentiments in a set of poems. He sent his work to Mendelssohn with therequest that the composer inform the writer whether or not he hadsucceeded in catching the meaning of the music. He desired theinformation because "music's capacity for expression is so vague andindeterminate. " Mendelssohn replied:

 "You give the various numbers of the book such titles as 'I Think of Thee, ' 'Melancholy, ' 'The Praise of God, ' 'A Merry Hunt. ' I can scarcely say whether I thought of these or other things while composing the music. Another might find 'I Think of Thee' where you find 'Melancholy, ' and a real huntsman might consider 'A Merry Hunt' a veritable 'Praise of God. ' But this is not because, as you think, music is vague. On the contrary, I believe that musical expression is altogether too definite, that it reaches regions and dwells in them whither words cannot follow it and must necessarily go lame when they make the attempt as you would have them do. "

[Sidenote: _The tonal language. _]

[Sidenote: _Herbert Spencer's definition. _]

[Sidenote: _Natural expression. _]

[Sidenote: _Absolute music. _]

If I were to try to say why musicians, great musicians, speak thus oftheir art, my explanation would be that they have developed, fartherthan the rest of mankind have been able to develop it, a language oftones, which, had it been so willed, might have been developed so asto fill the place now occupied by articulate speech. Herbert Spencer, though speaking purely as a scientific investigator, not at all as anartist, defined music as "a language of feelings which may ultimatelyenable men vividly and completely to impress on each other theemotions they experience from moment to moment. " We rely upon speechto do this now, but ever and anon when, in a moment of emotionalexaltation, we are deserted by the articulate word we revert to theemotional cry which antedates speech, and find that that cry isuniversally understood because it is universally felt. More thanspeech, if its primitive element of emotionality be omitted, more thanthe primitive language of gesture, music is a natural mode ofexpression. All three forms have attained their present stage ofdevelopment through conventions. Articulate speech has led in thedevelopment; gesture once occupied a high plane (in the pantomimicdance of the ancients) but has now retrograded; music, supreme at theoutset, then neglected, is but now pushing forward into the placewhich its nature entitles it to occupy. When we conceive of anart-work composed of such elements, and foregoing the adventitioushelps which may accrue to it from conventional idioms based onassociation of ideas, we have before us the concept of Absolute music, whose content, like that of every noble artistic composition, be it oftones or forms or colors or thoughts expressed in words, is that highideal of goodness, truthfulness, and beauty for which all loftyimaginations strive. Such artworks are the instrumental compositionsin the classic forms; such, too, may be said to be the high type ofidealized "Programme" music, which, like the "Pastoral" symphony ofBeethoven, is designed to awaken emotions like those awakened by thecontemplation of things, but does not attempt to depict the thingsthemselves. Having mentioned Programme music I must, of course, try totell what it is; but the exposition must be preceded by an explanationof a kind of music which, because of its chastity, is set down as thefinest form of absolute music. This is Chamber music. 

[Sidenote: _Chamber music. _]

[Sidenote: _History of the term. _]

[Sidenote: _Haydn a servant. _]

In a broad sense, but one not employed in modern definition, Chambermusic is all music not designed for performance in the church ortheatre. (Out-of-door music cannot be considered among these artisticforms of aristocratic descent. ) Once, and indeed at the time of itsinvention, the term meant music designed especially for thedelectation of the most eminent patrons of the art--the kings andnobles whose love for it gave it maintenance and encouragement. Thisis implied by the term itself, which has the same etymology whereverthe form of music is cultivated. In Italian it is _Musica da Camera_;in French, _Musique de Chambre_; in German, _Kammermusik_. All theterms have a common root. The Greek [Greek: kamara] signified an arch, a vaulted room, or a covered wagon. In the time of the Frankish kingsthe word was applied to the room in the royal palace in which themonarch's private property was kept, and in which he looked after hisprivate affairs. When royalty took up the cultivation of music it wasas a private, not as a court, function, and the concerts given forthe entertainment of the royal family took place in the king'schamber, or private room. The musicians were nothing more nor lessthan servants in the royal household. This relationship endured intothe present century. Haydn was a _Hausofficier_ of Prince Esterhazy. As vice-chapelmaster he had to appear every morning in the Prince'sante-room to receive orders concerning the dinner-music and otherentertainments of the day, and in the certificate of appointment hisconduct is regulated with a particularity which we, who remember himand reverence his genius but have forgotten his master, thinkhumiliating in the extreme. 

[Sidenote: _Beethoven's Chamber music. _]

Out of this cultivation of music in the private chamber grew thecharacteristics of Chamber music, which we must consider if we wouldenjoy it ourselves and understand the great reverence which the greatmasters of music have always felt for it. Beethoven was the firstgreat democrat among musicians. He would have none of the shackleswhich his predecessors wore, and compelled aristocracy of birth to bowto aristocracy of genius. But such was his reverence for the style ofmusic which had grown up in the chambers of the great that he devotedthe last three years of his life almost exclusively to itscomposition; the peroration of his proclamation to mankind consists ofhis last quartets--the holiest of holy things to the Chamber musiciansof to-day. 

[Sidenote: _The characteristics of Chamber music. _]

Chamber music represents pure thought, lofty imagination, and deeplearning. These attributes are encouraged by the idea of privacy whichis inseparable from the form. Composers find it the finest field forthe display of their talents because their own skill in creating is tobe paired with trained skill in hearing. Its representative pieces arewritten for strings alone--trios, quartets, and quintets. With thestrings are sometimes associated a pianoforte, or one or more of thesolo wind instruments--oboe, clarinet, or French horn; and as a rulethe compositions adhere to classical lines (see Chapter V. ). Ofnecessity the modesty of the apparatus compels it to forego nearlyall the adventitious helps with which other forms of composition gainpublic approval. In the delineative arts Chamber music shows analogywith correct drawing and good composition, the absence of which cannotbe atoned for by the most gorgeous coloring. In no other style issympathy between performers and listeners so necessary, and for thatreason Chamber music should always be heard in a small room withperformers and listeners joined in angelic wedlock. Communities inwhich it flourishes under such conditions are musical. 

[Sidenote: _Programme music. _]

[Sidenote: _The value of superscriptions. _]

[Sidenote: _The rule of judgment. _]

Properly speaking, the term Programme music ought to be applied onlyto instrumental compositions which make a frank effort to depictscenes, incidents, or emotional processes to which the composerhimself gives the clew either by means of a descriptive title or averbal motto. It is unfortunate that the term has come to be looselyused. In a high sense the purest and best music in the world isprogrammatic, its programme being, as I have said, that "high ideal ofgoodness, truthfulness, and beauty" which is the content of all trueart. But the origin of the term was vulgar, and the most contemptiblepiece of tonal imitation now claims kinship in the popular mind withthe exquisitely poetical creations of Schumann and the "Pastoral"symphony of Beethoven; and so it is become necessary to defend it inthe case of noble compositions. A programme is not necessarily, asAmbros asserts, a certificate of poverty and an admission on the partof the composer that his art has got beyond its natural bounds. Whether it be merely a suggestive title, as in the case of some of thecompositions of Beethoven, Schumann, and Mendelssohn, or an extendedcommentary, as in the symphonic poems of Liszt and the symphonies ofBerlioz and Raff, the programme has a distinct value to the composeras well as the hearer. It can make the perceptive sense moreimpressible to the influence of the music; it can quicken the fancy, and fire the imagination; it can prevent a gross misconception of theintentions of a composer and the character of his composition. Nevertheless, in determining the artistic value of the work, thequestion goes not to the ingenuity of the programme or the clearnesswith which its suggestions have been carried out, but to the beauty ofthe music itself irrespective of the verbal commentary accompanyingit. This rule must be maintained in order to prevent a degradation ofthe object of musical expression. The vile, the ugly, the painful arenot fit subjects for music; music renounces, contravenes, negativesitself when it attempts their delineation. 

A classification of Programme music might be made on these lines:

[Sidenote: _Kinds of Programme music. _]

I. Descriptive pieces which rest on imitation or suggestion of naturalsounds. 

II. Pieces whose contents are purely musical, but the mood of which issuggested by a poetical title. 

III. Pieces in which the influence which determined their form anddevelopment is indicated not only by a title but also by a motto whichis relied upon to mark out a train of thought for the listener whichwill bring his fancy into union with that of the composer. The mottomay be verbal or pictorial. 

IV. Symphonies or other composite works which have a title to indicatetheir general character, supplemented by explanatory superscriptionsfor each portion. 

[Sidenote: _Imitation of natural sounds. _]

[Sidenote: _The nightingale. _]

[Sidenote: _The cat. _]

[Sidenote: _The cuckoo. _]

The first of these divisions rests upon the employment of the lowestform of conventional musical idiom. The material which the naturalworld provides for imitation by the musician is exceedingly scant. Unless we descend to mere noise, as in the descriptions of storms andbattles (the shrieking of the wind, the crashing of thunder, and theroar of artillery--invaluable aids to the cheap descriptive writer), we have little else than the calls of a few birds. Nearly thirty yearsago Wilhelm Tappert wrote an essay which he called "Zooplastik inTönen. " He ransacked the musical literature of centuries, but in allhis examples the only animals the voices of which are unmistakable arefour fowls--the cuckoo, quail (that is the German bird, not theAmerican, which has a different call), the cock, and the hen. He hasmany descriptive sounds which suggest other birds and beasts, but onlyby association of idea; separated from title or text they suggestmerely what they are--musical phrases. A reiteration of the rhythmicalfigure called the "Scotch snap, " breaking gradually into a trill, isthe common symbol of the nightingale's song, but it is not a copy ofthat song; three or four tones descending chromatically are given asthe cat's mew, but they are made to be such only by placing thesyllables _Mi-au_ (taken from the vocabulary of the German cat) underthem. Instances of this kind might be called characterization, ordescription by suggestion, and some of the best composers have madeuse of them, as will appear in these pages presently. The list beingso small, and the lesson taught so large, it may be well to give a fewstriking instances of absolutely imitative music. The first bird tocollaborate with a composer seems to have been the cuckoo, whose notes

[Music illustration: Cuck-oo!]

had sounded in many a folk-song ere Beethoven thought of enlisting thelittle solo performer in his "Pastoral" symphony. It is to be borne inmind, however, as a fact having some bearing on the artistic value ofProgramme music, that Beethoven's cuckoo changes his note to pleasethe musician, and, instead of singing a minor third, he sings a majorthird thus:

[Music illustration: Cuck-oo!]

[Sidenote: _Cock and hen. _]

As long ago as 1688 Jacob Walter wrote a musical piece entitled"Gallina et Gallo, " in which the hen was delineated in this theme:

[Music illustration: _Gallina. _]

while the cock had the upper voice in the following example, his clearchallenge sounding above the cackling of his mate:

[Music illustration: _Gallo. _]

The most effective use yet made of the song of the hen, however, is in"La Poule, " one of Rameau's "Pièces de Clavecin, " printed in 1736, adelightful composition with this subject:

[Music illustration: Co co co co co co co dai, etc. ]

[Sidenote: _The quail. _]

The quail's song is merely a monotonic rhythmical figure to whichGerman fancy has fitted words of pious admonition:

[Music illustration: Fürch-te Gott! Lo-be Gott!]

[Sidenote: _Conventional idioms. _]

[Sidenote: _Association of ideas. _]

[Sidenote: _Fancy and imagination. _]

[Sidenote: _Harmony and emotionality. _]

The paucity of examples in this department is a demonstration of thestatement made elsewhere that nature does not provide music withmodels for imitation as it does painting and sculpture. The fact that, nevertheless, we have come to recognize a large number of idioms basedon association of ideas stands the composer in good stead whenever heventures into the domain of delineative or descriptive music, and thishe can do without becoming crudely imitative. Repeated experienceshave taught us to recognize resemblances between sequences orcombinations of tones and things or ideas, and on these analogies, even though they be purely conventional (that is agreed upon, as wehave agreed that a nod of the head shall convey assent, a shake of thehead dissent, and a shrug of the shoulders doubt or indifference), thecomposers have built up a voluminous vocabulary of idioms which needonly to be helped out by a suggestion to the mind to be eloquentlyillustrative. "Sometimes hearing a melody or harmony arouses anemotion like that aroused by the contemplation of a thing. Minorharmonies, slow movements, dark tonal colorings, combine directly toput a musically susceptible person in a mood congenial to thoughts ofsorrow and death; and, inversely, the experience of sorrow, or thecontemplation of death, creates affinity for minor harmonies, slowmovements, and dark tonal colorings. Or we recognize attributes inmusic possessed also by things, and we consort the music and thethings, external attributes bringing descriptive music into play, which excites the fancy, internal attributes calling for an exerciseof the loftier faculty, imagination, to discern their meaning. "[B] Thelatter kind is delineative music of the higher order, the kind that Ihave called idealized programme music, for it is the imaginationwhich, as Ruskin has said, "sees the heart and inner nature and makesthem felt, but is often obscure, mysterious, and interrupted in itsgiving out of outer detail, " which is "a seer in the prophetic sense, calling the things that are not as though they were, and foreverdelighting to dwell on that which is not tangibly present. " In thiskind of music, harmony, the real seat of emotionality in music, is aneloquent factor, and, indeed, there is no greater mystery in the art, which is full of mystery, than the fact that the lowering of thesecond tone in the chord, which is the starting-point of harmony, should change an expression of satisfaction, energetic action, orjubilation into an accent of pain or sorrow. The major mode is "todo, " the minor, "to suffer:"

[Sidenote: _Major and minor. _]

[Music illustration: Hur-rah! A-las!]

[Sidenote: _Music and movement. _]

How near a large number of suggestions, which are based wholly uponexperience or association of ideas, lie to the popular fancy, might beillustrated by scores of examples. Thoughts of religious functionsarise in us the moment we hear the trombones intone a solemn phrase infull harmony; an oboe melody in sixth-eighth time over a drone bassbrings up a pastoral picture of a shepherd playing upon his pipe;trumpets and drums suggest war, and so on. The delineation ofmovement is easier to the musician than it is to the poet. Handel, whohas conveyed the sensation of a "darkness which might be felt, " in achorus of his "Israel in Egypt, " by means which appeal solely to theimagination stirred by feelings, has in the same work pictured theplague of frogs with a frank _naïveté_ which almost upsets ourseriousness of demeanor, by suggesting the characteristic movement ofthe creatures in the instrumental accompaniment to the arioso, "Theirland brought forth frogs, " which begins thus:

[Sidenote: _Handel's frogs. _]

[Music illustration]

[Sidenote: _The movement of water. _]

We find the gentle flux and reflux of water as if it were lapping arocky shore in the exquisite figure out of which Mendelssohnconstructed his "Hebrides" overture:

[Music illustration]

and in fancy we ride on mighty surges when we listen to the principalsubject of Rubinstein's "Ocean" symphony:

[Music illustration]

In none of these instances can the composer be said to be imitative. Music cannot copy water, but it can do what water does, and so suggestwater. 

[Sidenote: _High and low. _]

Some of the most common devices of composers are based on conceptionsthat are wholly arbitrary. A musical tone cannot have position inspace such as is indicated by high or low, yet so familiar is theassociation of acuteness of pitch with height, and gravity of pitchwith depth, that composers continually delineate high things withacute tones and low things with grave tones, as witness Handel in oneof the choruses of "The Messiah:"

[Music illustration: Glo-ry to God in the high-est, and peace onearth. ]

[Sidenote: _Ascent, descent, and distance delineated. _]

Similarly, too, does Beethoven describe the ascent into heaven and thedescent into hell in the Credo of his mass in D. Beethoven's music, indeed, is full of tone-painting, and because it exemplifies a doubledevice I make room for one more illustration. It is from the cantata"Becalmed at Sea, and a Prosperous Voyage, " and in it the composerpictures the immensity of the sea by a sudden, extraordinary spreadingout of his harmonies, which is musical, and dwelling a long time onthe word "distance" (_Weite_) which is rhetorical:

[Music illustration: In der un-ge-heu-'ren Wei-te. ]

[Sidenote: _Bald imitation bad art. _]

[Sidenote: _Vocal music and delineation. _]

[Sidenote: _Beethoven's canon. _]

The extent to which tone-painting is justified is a question whichmight profitably concern us; but such a discussion as it deserveswould far exceed the limits set for this book, and must be foregone. It cannot be too forcibly urged, however, as an aid to the listener, that efforts at musical cartooning have never been made by truecomposers, and that in the degree that music attempts simply to copyexternal things it falls in the scale of artistic truthfulness andvalue. Vocal music tolerates more of the descriptive element thaninstrumental because it is a mixed art; in it the purpose of music isto illustrate the poetry and, by intensifying the appeal to the fancy, to warm the emotions. Every piece of vocal music, moreover, carriesits explanatory programme in its words. Still more tolerable and evenrighteous is it in the opera where it is but one of several factorswhich labor together to make up the sum of dramatic representation. But it must ever remain valueless unless it be idealized. Mendelssohn, desiring to put _Bully Bottom_ into the overture to "A MidsummerNight's Dream, " did not hesitate to use tones which suggest the brayof a donkey, yet the effect, like Handel's frogs and flies in"Israel, " is one of absolute musical value. The canon which oughtcontinually to be before the mind of the listener is that whichBeethoven laid down with most painstaking care when he wrote the"Pastoral" symphony. Desiring to inform the listeners what were theimages which inspired the various movements (in order, of course, thatthey might the better enter into the work by recalling them), he gaveeach part a superscription thus:

[Sidenote: _The "Pastoral" symphony. _]

 I. "The agreeable and cheerful sensations awakened by arrival in the country. "

 II. "Scene by the brook. "

 III. "A merrymaking of the country folk. "

 IV. "Thunder-storm. "

 V. "Shepherds' song--feelings of charity combined with gratitude to the Deity after the storm. "

In the title itself he included an admonitory explanation which shouldhave everlasting validity: "Pastoral Symphony; more expression offeeling than painting. " How seriously he thought on the subject weknow from his sketch-books, in which occur a number of notes, some ofwhich were evidently hints for superscriptions, some records of hisconvictions on the subject of descriptive music. The notes arereprinted in Nottebohm's "Zweite Beethoveniana, " but I borrow SirGeorge Grove's translation:

[Sidenote: _Beethoven's notes on descriptive music. _]

 "The hearers should be allowed to discover the situations. "

 "Sinfonia caracteristica, or a recollection of country life. "

 "All painting in instrumental music, if pushed too far, is a failure. "

 "Sinfonia pastorella. Anyone who has an idea of country life can make out for himself the intentions of the author without many titles. "

 "People will not require titles to recognize the general intention to be more a matter of feeling than of painting in sounds. "

 "Pastoral symphony: No picture, but something in which the emotions are expressed which are aroused in men by the pleasure of the country (or), in which some feelings of country life are set forth. "[C]

As to the relation of programme to music Schumann laid down anadmirable maxim when he said that while good music was not harmed by adescriptive title it was a bad indication if a composition needed one. 

[Sidenote: _Classic and Romantic. _]

There are, among all the terms used in music, no words of vaguermeaning than Classic and Romantic. The idea which they convey mostwidely in conjunction is that of antithesis. When the Romantic Schoolof composers is discussed it is almost universally presented assomething opposed in character to the Classical School. There islittle harm in this if we but bear in mind that all the terms whichhave come into use to describe different phases of musical developmentare entirely artificial and arbitrary--that they do not stand foranything absolute, but only serve as platforms of observation. If theterms had a fixed meaning we ought to be able, since they haveestablished themselves in the language of history and criticism, todescribe unambiguously and define clearly the boundary which separatesthem. This, however, is impossible. Each generation, nay, eachdecade, fixes the meaning of the words for itself and decides whatworks shall go into each category. It ought to be possible to discovera principle, a touchstone, which shall emancipate us from themischievous and misleading notions that have so long prompted men tomake the partitions between the schools out of dates and names. 

[Sidenote: _Trench's definition of "classical. "_]

The terms were borrowed from literary criticism; but even there, inthe words of Archbishop Trench, "they either say nothing at all or saysomething erroneous. " Classical has more to defend it than Romantic, because it has greater antiquity and, in one sense, has been used withless arbitrariness. 

 "The term, " says Trench, "is drawn from the political economy of Rome. Such a man was rated as to his income in the third class, such another in the fourth, and so on, and he who was in the highest was emphatically said to be of the class, _classicus_, a class man, without adding the number as in that case superfluous; while all others were _infra classem_. Hence by an obvious analogy the best authors were rated as _classici_, or men of the highest class; just as in English we say 'men of rank' absolutely for men who are in the highest ranks of the State. "

Thus Trench, and his historical definition, explains why in music alsothere is something more than a lurking suggestion of excellence in theconception of "classical;" but that fact does not put away the quarrelwhich we feel exists between Classic and Romantic. 

[Sidenote: _Romantic in literature. _]

[Sidenote: _Schumann and Jean Paul. _]

[Sidenote: _Weber's operas. _]

[Sidenote: _Mendelssohn. _]

As applied to literature Romantic was an adjective affected by certainpoets, first in Germany, then in France, who wished to introduce astyle of thought and expression different from that of those whofollowed old models. Intrinsically, of course, the term does not implyany such opposition but only bears witness to the source from whichthe poets drew their inspiration. This was the imaginative literatureof the Middle Ages, the fantastical stories of chivalry and knighthoodwritten in the Romance, or Romanic languages, such as Italian, Spanish, and Provençal. The principal elements of these stories werethe marvellous and the supernatural. The composers whose names firstspring into our minds when we think of the Romantic School are menlike Mendelssohn and Schumann, who drew much of their inspiration fromthe young writers of their time who were making war on stiltedrhetoric and conventionalism of phrase. Schumann touches hands withthe Romantic poets in their strivings in two directions. His artisticconduct, especially in his early years, is inexplicable if Jean Paulbe omitted from the equation. His music rebels against the formalismwhich had held despotic sway over the art, and also seeks to disclosethe beauty which lies buried in the world of mystery in and around us, and give expression to the multitude of emotions to which unyieldingformalism had refused adequate utterance. This, I think, is the chiefelement of Romanticism. Another has more of an external nature andgenesis, and this we find in the works of such composers as Von Weber, who is Romantic chiefly in his operas, because of the supernaturalismand chivalry in their stories, and Mendelssohn, who, while distinctlyRomantic in many of his strivings, was yet so great a master of form, and so attached to it, that the Romantic side of him was not fullydeveloped. 

[Sidenote: _A definition of "Classical" in music. _]

[Sidenote: _The creative and conservative principles. _]

[Sidenote: _Musical laws of necessity progressive. _]

[Sidenote: _Bach and Romanticism. _]

[Sidenote: _Creation and conservation. _]

If I were to attempt a definition it would be this: Classicalcomposers are those of the first rank (to this extent we yield to theancient Roman conception) who have developed music to the highestpitch of perfection on its formal side and, in obedience to generallyaccepted laws, preferring æsthetic beauty, pure and simple, overemotional content, or, at any rate, refusing to sacrifice form tocharacteristic expression. Romantic composers are those who havesought their ideals in other regions and striven to give expression tothem irrespective of the restrictions and limitations of form and theconventions of law--composers with whom, in brief, content outweighsmanner. This definition presents Classicism as the regulative andconservative principle in the history of the art, and Romanticism asthe progressive, regenerative, and creative principle. It is easy tosee how the notion of contest between them grew up, and the only harmwhich can come from such a notion will ensue only if we shut our eyesto the fact that it is a contest between two elements whose veryopposition stimulates life, and whose union, perfect, peaceful, mutually supplemental, is found in every really great art-work. No lawwhich fixes, and hence limits, form, can remain valid forever. Its endis served when it enforces itself long enough to keep lawlessness incheck till the test of time has determined what is sound, sweet, andwholesome in the innovations which are always crowding eagerly intoevery creative activity in art and science. In art it is ever true, as_Faust_ concludes, that "In the beginning was the deed. " The laws ofcomposition are the products of compositions; and, being such, theycannot remain unalterable so long as the impulse freshly to createremains. All great men are ahead of their time, and in all greatmusic, no matter when written, you shall find instances of profoundermeaning and deeper or newer feeling than marked the generality ofcontemporary compositions. So Bach frequently floods his formalutterances with Romantic feeling, and the face of Beethoven, servingat the altar in the temple of Beauty, is transfigured for us by divinelight. The principles of creation and conservation move onwardtogether, and what is Romantic to-day becomes Classic to-morrow. Romanticism is fluid Classicism. It is the emotional stimulusinforming Romanticism which calls music into life, but no sooner is itborn, free, untrammelled, nature's child, than the regulativeprinciple places shackles upon it; but it is enslaved only that it maybecome and remain art. 

FOOTNOTES:

[B] "Studies in the Wagnerian Drama, " p. 22. 

[C] "Beethoven and His Nine Symphonies, " by George Grove, C. B. , 2ded. , p. 191. 

IV

_The Modern Orchestra_

[Sidenote: _The orchestra as an instrument. _]

[Sidenote: _What may be heard from a band. _]

The most eloquent, potent, and capable instrument of music in theworld is the modern orchestra. It is the instrument whose employmentby the classical composers and the geniuses of the Romantic School inthe middle of our century marks the high tide of the musical art. Itis an instrument, moreover, which is never played upon without givinga great object-lesson in musical analysis, without inviting the eye tohelp the ear to discern the cause of the sounds which ravish oursenses and stir up pleasurable emotions. Yet the popular knowledge ofits constituent parts, of the individual value and mission of thefactors which go to make up its sum, is scarcely greater than thepopular knowledge of the structure of a symphony or sonata. All thisis the more deplorable since at least a rudimentary knowledge of thesethings might easily be gained, and in gaining it the student wouldfind a unique intellectual enjoyment, and have his ears unconsciouslyopened to a thousand beauties in the music never perceived before. Hewould learn, for instance, to distinguish the characteristic timbre ofeach of the instruments in the band; and after that to the delightfound in what may be called the primary colors he would add that whichcomes from analyzing the vast number of tints which are the productsof combination. Noting the capacity of the various instruments and themanner in which they are employed, he would get glimpses into themental workshop of the composer. He would discover that there areconventional means of expression in his art analogous to those in theother arts; and collating his methods with the effects produced, hewould learn something of the creative artist's purposes. He would findthat while his merely sensuous enjoyment would be left unimpaired, andthe emotional excitement which is a legitimate fruit of musicalperformance unchecked, these pleasures would have others consortedwith them. His intellectual faculties would be agreeably excited, andhe would enjoy the pleasures of memory, which are exemplified in musicmore delightfully and more frequently than in any other art, becauseof the rôle which repetition of parts plays in musical composition. 

[Sidenote: _Familiar instruments. _]

[Sidenote: _The instrumental choirs. _]

The argument is as valid in the study of musical forms as in the studyof the orchestra, but it is the latter that is our particular businessin this chapter. Everybody listening to an orchestral concertrecognizes the physical forms of the violins, flutes, cornets, and bigdrum; but even of these familiar instruments the voices are not alwaysrecognized. As for the rest of the harmonious fraternity, few giveheed to them, even while enjoying the music which they produce; yetwith a few words of direction anybody can study the instruments of theband at an orchestral concert. Let him first recognize the fact thatto the mind of a composer an orchestra always presents itself as acombination of four groups of instruments--choirs, let us call them, with unwilling apology to the lexicographers. These choirs are: first, the viols of four sorts--violins, violas, violoncellos, anddouble-basses, spoken of collectively as the "string quartet;" second, the wind instruments of wood (the "wood-winds" in the musician'sjargon)--flutes, oboes, clarinets, and bassoons; third, the windinstruments of brass (the "brass")--trumpets, horns, trombones, andbass tuba. In all of these subdivisions there are numerous variationswhich need not detain us now. A further subdivision might be made ineach with reference to the harmony voices (showing an analogy with thefour voices of a vocal choir--soprano, contralto, tenor, and bass);but to go into this might make the exposition confusing. The fourth"choir" (here the apology to the lexicographers must be repeated withmuch humility and earnestness) consists of the instruments ofpercussion--the kettle-drums, big drum, cymbals, triangle, bell chime, etc. (sometimes spoken of collectively in the United States as "thebattery"). 

[Illustration: SEATING PLAN OF THE NEW YORK PHILHARMONIC SOCIETY. ]

[Sidenote: _How orchestras are seated. _]

[Sidenote: _Plan of the New York Philharmonic. _]

The disposition of these instruments in our orchestras is largely amatter of individual taste and judgment in the conductor, though thegeneral rule is exemplified in the plan given herewith, showing howMr. Anton Seidl has arranged the desks for the concerts of thePhilharmonic Society of New York. Mr. Theodore Thomas's arrangementdiffered very little from that of Mr. Seidl, the most noticeabledifference being that he placed the viola-players beside the secondviolinists, where Mr. Seidl has the violoncellists. Mr. Seidl'spurpose in making the change was to gain an increase in sonority forthe viola part, the position to the right of the stage (the left ofthe audience) enabling the viola-players to hold their instrumentswith the F-holes toward the listeners instead of away from them. Therelative positions of the harmonious battalions, as a rule, are asshown in the diagram. In the foreground, the violins, violas, and'cellos; in the middle distance, the wood-winds; in the background, the brass and the battery; the double-basses flanking the whole body. This distribution of forces is dictated by considerations of sonority, the most assertive instruments--the brass and drums--being placedfarthest from the hearers, and the instruments of the viol tribe, which are the real backbone of the band and make their effect by amassing of voices in each part, having the place of honor and greatestadvantage. Of course it is understood that I am speaking of a concertorchestra. In the case of theatrical or operatic bands the arrangementof the forces is dependent largely upon the exigencies of space. 

[Sidenote: _Solo instruments. _]

Outside the strings the instruments are treated by composers as soloinstruments, a single flute, oboe, clarinet, or other wind instrumentsometimes doing the same work in the development of the composition asthe entire body of first violins. As a rule, the wood-winds are usedin pairs, the purpose of this being either to fill the harmony whenwhat I may call the principal thought of the composition is consignedto a particular choir, or to strengthen a voice by permitting twoinstruments to play in unison. 

[Sidenote: _Groupings for harmony effects. _]

[Sidenote: _Wagner's instrumental characterization. _]

[Sidenote: _An instrumental language. _]

Each choir, except the percussion instruments, is capable of playingin full harmony; and this effect is frequently used by composers. In"Lohengrin, " which for that reason affords to the amateur an admirableopportunity for orchestral study, Wagner resorts to this device insome instances for the sake of dramatic characterization. _Elsa_, adreamy, melancholy maiden, crushed under the weight of wrongfulaccusation, and sustained only by the vision of a seraphic championsent by Heaven to espouse her cause, is accompanied on her entranceand sustained all through her scene of trial by the dulcet tones ofthe wood-winds, the oboe most often carrying the melody. _Lohengrin's_superterrestrial character as a Knight of the Holy Grail is prefiguredin the harmonies which seem to stream from the violins, and in theprelude tell of the bringing of the sacred vessel of Christ's passionto Monsalvat; but in his chivalric character he is greeted by themilitant trumpets in a strain of brilliant puissance and rhythmicenergy. Composers have studied the voices of the instruments so longand well, and have noted the kind of melodies and harmonies in whichthe voices are most effective, that they have formulated what mightalmost be called an instrumental language. Though the effectivecapacity of each instrument is restricted not only by its mechanics, but also by the quality of its tones--a melody conceived for oneinstrument sometimes becoming utterly inexpressive and unbeautiful bytransferrence to another--the range of effects is extended almost toinfinity by means of combination, or, as a painter might say, bymixing the colors. The art of writing effectively for instruments incombination is the art of instrumentation or orchestration, in whichBerlioz and Wagner were Past Grand Masters. 

[Sidenote: _Number of instruments. _]

The number of instruments of each kind in an orchestra may also besaid to depend measurably upon the music, or the use to which the bandis to be put. Neither in instruments nor in numbers is there absoluteidentity between a dramatic and a symphonic orchestra. The apparatusof the former is generally much more varied and complex, because ofthe vast development of variety in dramatic expression stimulated byWagner. 

[Sidenote: _Symphony and dramatic orchestras. _]

The modern symphony, especially the symphonic poem, shows theinfluence of this dramatic tendency, but not in the same degree. Acomparison between model bands in each department will disclose whatis called the normal orchestral organization. For the comparison (seepage 82), I select the bands of the first Wagner Festival held inBayreuth in 1876, the Philharmonic Society of New York, the BostonSymphony Orchestra, and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. 

[Sidenote: _Instruments rarely used. _]

Instruments like the corno di bassetto, bass trumpet, tenor tuba, contra-bass tuba, and contra-bass trombone are so seldom called for inthe music played by concert orchestras that they have no place intheir regular lists. They are employed when needed, however, and thehorns and other instruments are multiplied when desirable effects areto be obtained by such means. 

[Sidenote: _Orchestras compared. _]

 New YorkInstruments Bayreuth. Philharmonic. Boston. Chicago. 

First violins 16 18 16 16Second violins 16 18 14 16Violas 12 14 10 10Violoncellos 12 14 8 10Double-basses 8 14 8 9Flutes 3 3 3 3Oboes 3 3 2 3English horn 1 1 1 1Clarinets 3 3 3 3Basset-horn 1 0 0 0Bassoons 3 3 3 3Trumpets or cornets 3 3 4 4Horns 8 4 4 4Trombones 3 3 3 3Bass trumpet 1 0 0 1Tenor tubas 2 0 2 4Bass tubas 2 1 2 1Contra-bass tuba 1 0 1 0Contra-bass trombone 1 0 0 1Tympani (pairs) 2 2 2 2Bass drum 1 1 1 1Cymbals (pairs) 1 1 1 1Harps 6 1 1 2

[Sidenote: _The string quartet. _]

[Sidenote: _Old laws against instrumentalists. _]

[Sidenote: _Early instrumentation. _]

[Sidenote: _Handel's orchestra. _]

The string quartet, it will be seen, makes up nearly three-fourths ofa well-balanced orchestra. It is the only choir which has numerousrepresentation of its constituent units. This was not always so, butis the fruit of development in the art of instrumentation which is thenewest department in music. Vocal music had reached its highest pointbefore instrumental music made a beginning as an art. The former wasthe pampered child of the Church, the latter was long an outlaw. Aslate as the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries instrumentalists werevagabonds in law, like strolling players. They had none of the rightsof citizenship; the religious sacraments were denied them; theirchildren were not permitted to inherit property or learn an honourabletrade; and after death the property for which they had toiledescheated to the crown. After the instruments had achieved theprivilege of artistic utterance, they were for a long time mereslavish imitators of the human voice. Bach treated them with aninsight into their possibilities which was far in advance of his time, for which reason he is the most modern composer of the first half ofthe eighteenth century; but even in Handel's case the rule was totreat them chiefly as supports for the voices. He multiplied them justas he did the voices in his choruses, consorting a choir of oboes andbassoons, and another of trumpets of almost equal numbers with hisviolins. 

[Sidenote: _The modern band. _]

The so-called purists in England talk a great deal about restoringHandel's orchestra in performances of his oratorios, utterly unmindfulof the fact that to our ears, accustomed to the myriad-hued orchestraof to-day, the effect would seem opaque, heavy, unbalanced, andwithout charm were a band of oboes to play in unison with the violins, another of bassoons to double the 'cellos, and half a dozen trumpetsto come flaring and crashing into the musical mass at intervals. Gluckin the opera, and Haydn and Mozart in the symphony, first disclosedthe charm of the modern orchestra with the wind instrumentsapportioned to the strings so as to obtain the multitude of tonaltints which we admire to-day. On the lines which they marked out theprogress has been exceedingly rapid and far-reaching. 

[Sidenote: _Capacity of the orchestra. _]

[Sidenote: _The extremes of range. _]

In the hands of the latter-day Romantic composers, and with the helpof the instrument-makers, who have marvellously increased the capacityof the wind instruments, and remedied the deficiencies whichembarrassed the Classical writers, the orchestra has developed into aninstrument such as never entered the mind of the wildest dreamer ofthe last century. Its range of expression is almost infinite. It canstrike like a thunder-bolt, or murmur like a zephyr. Its voices aremultitudinous. Its register is coextensive in theory with that of themodern pianoforte, reaching from the space immediately below the sixthadded line under the bass staff to the ninth added line above thetreble staff. These two extremes, which belong respectively to thebass tuba and piccolo flute, are not at the command of every player, but they are within the capacity of the instruments, and mark theorchestra's boundaries in respect of pitch. The gravest note is almostas deep as any in which the ordinary human ear can detect pitch, andthe acutest reaches the same extremity in the opposite direction. 

[Sidenote: _The viols. _]

[Sidenote: _The violin. _]

With all the changes that have come over the orchestra in the courseof the last two hundred years, the string quartet has remained itschief factor. Its voice cannot grow monotonous or cloying, for, besides its innate qualities, it commands a more varied manner ofexpression than all the other instruments combined. The viol, whichterm I shall use generically to indicate all the instruments of thequartet, is the only instrument in the band, except the harp, that canplay harmony as well as melody. Its range is the most extensive; it ismore responsive to changes in manipulation; it is endowed more richlythan any other instrument with varieties of timbre; it has anincomparable facility of execution, and answers more quickly and moreeloquently than any of its companions to the feelings of the player. Agreat advantage which the viol possesses over wind instruments isthat, not being dependent on the breath of the player, there ispractically no limit to its ability to sustain tones. It is becauseof this long list of good qualities that it is relied on to providethe staff of life to instrumental music. The strings as commonly usedshow four members of the viol family, distinguished among themselvesby their size, and the quality in the changes of tone which grows outof the differences in size. The violins (Appendix, Plate I. ) are thesmallest members of the family. Historically they are the culminationof a development toward diminutiveness, for in their early days violswere larger than they are now. When the violin of to-day entered theorchestra (in the score of Monteverde's opera "Orfeo") it wasspecifically described as a "little French violin. " Its voice, Berliozsays, is the "true female voice of the orchestra. " Generally theviolin part of an orchestral score is two-voiced, but the two groupsmay be split into a great number. In one passage in "Tristan undIsolde" Wagner divides his first and second violins into sixteengroups. Such divisions, especially in the higher regions, areproductive of entrancing effects. 

[Sidenote: _Violin effects. _]

[Sidenote: _Pizzicato. _]

[Sidenote: _"Col legno dall'arco. "_]

[Sidenote: _Harmonics. _]

[Sidenote: _Vibrato. _]

[Sidenote: _"Con sordino. "_]

The halo of sound which streams from the beginning and end of the"Lohengrin" prelude is produced by this device. High and closeharmonies from divided violins always sound ethereal. Besides theirnative tone quality (that resulting from a string stretched over asounding shell set to vibrating by friction), the violins have anumber of modified qualities resulting from changes in manipulation. Sometimes the strings are plucked (_pizzicato_), when the result is ashort tone something like that of a banjo with the metallic clangomitted; very dainty effects can thus be produced, and though italways seems like a degradation of the instrument so pre-eminentlysuited to a broad singing style, no less significant a symphonist thanTschaikowsky has written a Scherzo in which the violins are played_pizzicato_ throughout the movement. Ballet composers frequentlyresort to the piquant effect, but in the larger and more serious formsof composition, the device is sparingly used. Differences in qualityand expressiveness of tone are also produced by varied methods ofapplying the bow to the strings: with stronger or lighter pressure;near the bridge, which renders the tone hard and brilliant, and overthe end of the finger-board, which softens it; in a continuous manner(_legato_), or detached (_staccato_). Weird effects in dramatic musicare sometimes produced by striking the strings with the wood of thebow, Wagner resorting to this means to delineate the wicked glee ofhis dwarf _Mime_, and Meyerbeer to heighten the uncanniness of_Nelusko's_ wild song in the third act of "L'Africaine. " Another classof effects results from the manner in which the strings are "stopped"by the fingers of the left hand. When they are not pressed firmlyagainst the finger-board but touched lightly at certain places callednodes by the acousticians, so that the segments below the finger arepermitted to vibrate along with the upper portion, those peculiartones of a flute-like quality called harmonics or flageolet tones areproduced. These are oftener heard in dramatic music than insymphonies; but Berlioz, desiring to put Shakespeare's description ofQueen Mab, "Her wagon-spokes made of long spinner's legs; The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers; The traces, of the smallest spider's web; The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams--"

into music in his dramatic symphony, "Romeo and Juliet, " achieved amarvellously filmy effect by dividing his violins, and permitting someof them to play harmonics. Yet so little was his ingenious purposesuspected when he first brought the symphony forward in Paris, thatone of the critics spoke contemptuously of this effect as sounding"like an ill-greased syringe. " A quivering motion imparted to thefingers of the left hand in stopping the strings produces atremulousness of tone akin to the _vibrato_ of a singer; and, like thevocal _vibrato_, when not carried to excess, this effect is a potentexpression of sentimental feeling. But it is much abused by soloplayers. Another modification of tone is caused by placing a tinyinstrument called a sordino, or mute, upon the bridge. This clampsthe bridge, makes it heavier, and checks the vibrations, so that thetone is muted or muffled, and at times sounds mysterious. 

[Sidenote: _Pizzicato on the basses. _]

[Sidenote: _Tremolo. _]

These devices, though as a rule they have their maximum ofeffectiveness in the violins, are possible also on the violas, violoncellos, and double-basses, which, as I have already intimated, are but violins of a larger growth. The _pizzicato_ is, indeed, oftenest heard from the double-basses, where it has a much greatereloquence than on the violins. In music of a sombre cast, the short, deep tones given out by the plucked strings of the contra-basssometimes have the awfulness of gigantic heart-throbs. The difficultyof producing the other effects grows with the increase of difficultyin handling the instruments, this being due to the growing thicknessof the strings and the wideness of the points at which they must bestopped. One effect peculiar to them all--the most used of alleffects, indeed, in dramatic music--is the _tremolo_, produced bydividing a tone into many quickly reiterated short tones by a rapidmotion of the bow. This device came into use with one of the earliestpieces of dramatic music. It is two centuries old, and was first usedto help in the musical delineation of a combat. With scarcely anexception, the varied means which I have described can be detected bythose to whom they are not already familiar by watching the playerswhile listening to the music. 

[Sidenote: _The viola. _]

The viola is next in size to the violin, and is tuned at the intervalof a fifth lower. Its highest string is A, which is the second stringof the violin, and its lowest C. Its tone, which sometimes contains acomical suggestion of a boy's voice in mutation, is lacking inincisiveness and brilliancy, but for this it compensates by awonderful richness and filling quality, and a pathetic and inimitablemournfulness in melancholy music. It blends beautifully with thevioloncello, and is often made to double that instrument's part forthe sake of color effect--as, to cite a familiar instance, in theprincipal subject of the Andante in Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. 

[Sidenote: _The violoncello. _]

[Sidenote: _Violoncello effects. _]

The strings of the violoncello (Plate II. ) are tuned like those ofthe viola, but an octave lower. It is the knee-fiddle (_viola dagamba_) of the last century, as the viola is the arm-fiddle (_viola dabraccio_), and got its old name from the position in which it is heldby the player. The 'cello's voice is a bass--it might be called thebarytone of the choir--and in the olden time of simple writing, littleelse was done with it than to double the bass part one octave higher. But modern composers, appreciating its marvellous capacity forexpression, which is next to that of the violin, have treated it withgreat freedom and independence as a solo instrument. Its tone is fullof voluptuous languor. It is the sighing lover of the instrumentalcompany, and can speak the language of tender passion more feelinglythan any of its fellows. The ravishing effect of a multiplication ofits voice is tellingly exemplified in the opening of the overture to"William Tell, " which is written for five solo 'celli, though it isoftenest heard in an arrangement which gives two of the middle partsto violas. When Beethoven wished to produce the emotional impressionof a peacefully rippling brook in his "Pastoral" symphony, he gave amurmuring figure to the divided violoncellos, and Wagner uses thepassionate accents of four of these instruments playing in harmony tosupport _Siegmund_ when he is pouring out the ecstasy of his love inthe first act of "Die Walküre. " In the love scene of Berlioz's "Romeoand Juliet" symphony it is the violoncello which personifies thelover, and holds converse with the modest oboe. 

[Sidenote: _The double-bass. _]

The patriarchal double-bass is known to all, and also its mission ofproviding the foundation for the harmonic structure of orchestralmusic. It sounds an octave lower than the music written for it, beingwhat is called a transposing instrument of sixteen-foot tone. Solosare seldom written for this instrument in orchestral music, thoughBeethoven, with his daring recitatives in the Ninth Symphony, makes ita mediator between the instrumental and vocal forces. Dragonetti andBottesini, two Italians, the latter of whom is still alive, won greatfame as solo players on the unwieldy instrument. The latter uses asmall bass viol, and strings it with harp strings; but Dragonettiplayed a full double-bass, on which he could execute the mostdifficult passages written for the violoncello. 

[Sidenote: _The wood-winds. _]

Since the instruments of the wood-wind choir are frequently used insolos, their acquaintance can easily be made by an observing amateur. To this division of the orchestra belong the gentle accents in theinstrumental language. Violent expression is not its province, andgenerally when the band is discoursing in heroic style or giving voiceto brave or angry emotion the wood-winds are either silent or are usedto give weight to the body of tone rather than color. Each of theinstruments has a strongly characteristic voice, which adapts itselfbest to a certain style of music; but by use of different registersand by combinations among them, or with the instruments of the otherchoirs, a wide range of expression within the limits suggested hasbeen won for the wood-winds. 

[Sidenote: _The flute. _]

[Sidenote: _The piccolo flute. _]

[Sidenote: _Janizary music. _]

[Sidenote: _The story of the flute. _]

The flute, which requires no description, is, for instance, anessentially soulless instrument; but its marvellous agility and theeffectiveness with which its tones can be blended with others make itone of the most useful instruments in the band. Its native character, heard in the compositions written for it as a solo instrument, hasprevented it from being looked upon with dignity. As a rule, brilliancy is all that is expected from it. It is a sort of _sopranoleggiero_ with a small range of superficial feelings. It cansentimentalize, and, as Dryden says, be "soft, complaining, " but whenwe hear it pour forth a veritable ecstasy of jubilation, as it does inthe dramatic climax of Beethoven's overture "Leonore No. 3, " we marvelat the transformation effected by the composer. Advantage has alsobeen taken of the difference between its high and low tones, and nowin some romantic music, as in Raff's "Lenore" symphony, or the prayerof _Agathe_ in "Der Freischütz, " the hollowness of the low tonesproduces a mysterious effect that is exceedingly striking. Still thefact remains that the native voice of the instrument, though sweet, is expressionless compared with that of the oboe or clarinet. Moderncomposers sometimes write for three flutes; but in the older writers, when a third flute is used, it is generally an octave flute, orpiccolo flute (Plate III. )--a tiny instrument whose aggressiveness ofvoice is out of all proportion to its diminutiveness of body. This isthe instrument which shrieks and whistles when the band is playing atstorm-making, to imitate the noise of the wind. It sounds an octavehigher than is indicated by the notes in its part, and so is what iscalled a transposing instrument of four-foot tone. It revels inmilitary music, which is proper, for it is an own cousin to theear-piercing fife, which annually makes up for its long silence in thenoisy days before political elections. When you hear a composition inmarch time, with bass and snare drum, cymbals and triangle, such asthe Germans call "Turkish" or "Janizary" music, you may be sure tohear also the piccolo flute. The flute is doubtless one of the oldestinstruments in the world. The primitive cave-dwellers made flutes ofthe leg-bones of birds and other animals, an origin of which a recordis preserved in the Latin name _tibia_. The first wooden flutes weredoubtless the Pandean pipes, in which the tone was produced by blowingacross the open ends of hollow reeds. The present method, alreadyknown to the ancient Egyptians, of closing the upper end, and creatingthe tone by blowing across a hole cut in the side, is only amodification of the method pursued, according to classic tradition, byPan when he breathed out his dejection at the loss of the nymphSyrinx, by blowing across the tuneful reeds which were that nymph inher metamorphosed state. 

[Sidenote: _Reed instruments. _]

[Sidenote: _Double reeds. _]

The flute or pipe of the Greeks and Romans was only distantly relatedto the true flute, but was the ancestor of its orchestral companions, the oboe and clarinet. These instruments are sounded by being blown inat the end, and the tone is created by vibrating reeds, whereas in theflute it is the result of the impinging of the air on the edge of thehole called the embouchure, and the consequent stirring of the columnof air in the flue of the instrument. The reeds are thin slips orblades of cane. The size and bore of the instruments and thedifference between these reeds are the causes of the differences intone quality between these relatives. The oboe or hautboy, Englishhorn, and the bassoon have what are called double reeds. Two narrowblades of cane are fitted closely together, and fastened with silk ona small metal tube extending from the upper end of the instrument inthe case of the oboe and English horn, from the side in the case ofthe bassoon. The reeds are pinched more or less tightly between thelips, and are set to vibrating by the breath. 

[Sidenote: _The oboe. _]

[Sidenote: _The English horn. _]

The oboe (Plate IV. ) is naturally associated with music of a pastoralcharacter. It is pre-eminently a melody instrument, and though itsvoice comes forth shrinkingly, its uniqueness of tone makes it easilyheard. It is a most lovable instrument. "Candor, artless grace, softjoy, or the grief of a fragile being suits the oboe's accents, " saysBerlioz. The peculiarity of its mouth-piece gives its tone a reedy orvibrating quality totally unlike the clarinet's. Its natural alto isthe English horn (Plate V. ), which is an oboe of larger growth, withcurved tube for convenience of manipulation. The tone of the Englishhorn is fuller, nobler, and is very attractive in melancholy or dreamymusic. There are few players on the English horn in this country, andit might be set down as a rule that outside of New York, Boston, andChicago, the English horn parts are played by the oboe in America. Nomelody displays the true character of the English horn better than the_Ranz des Vaches_ in the overture to Rossini's "William Tell"--thatlovely Alpine song which the flute embroiders with exquisite ornament. One of the noblest utterances of the oboe is the melody of the funeralmarch in Beethoven's "Heroic" symphony, in which its tenderness hasbeautiful play. It is sometimes used effectively in imitative music. In Haydn's "Seasons, " and also in that grotesque tone poem bySaint-Saëns, the "Danse Macabre, " it gives the cock crow. It is thetimid oboe that sounds the A for the orchestra to tune by. 

[Sidenote: _The bassoon. _]

[Sidenote: _An orchestral humorist. _]

[Sidenote: _Supernatural effects. _]

The grave voice of the oboe is heard from the bassoon (Plate VI. ), where, without becoming assertive, it gains a quality entirely unknownto the oboe and English horn. It is this quality that makes thebassoon the humorist _par excellence_ of the orchestra. It is a reedybass, very apt to recall to those who have had a country education thesqualling tone of the homely instrument which the farmer's boyfashions out of the stems of the pumpkin-vine. The humor of thebassoon is an unconscious humor, and results from the use made of itsabysmally solemn voice. This solemnity in quality is paired withastonishing flexibility of utterance, so that its gambols are alwaysgrotesque. Brahms permits the bassoon to intone the _Fuchslied_ of theGerman students in his "Academic" overture. Beethoven achieves adecidedly comical effect by a stubborn reiteration of key-note, fifth, and octave by the bassoon under a rustic dance intoned by the oboe inthe scherzo of his "Pastoral" symphony; and nearly every moderncomposer has taken advantage of the instrument's grotesqueness. Mendelssohn introduces the clowns in his "Midsummer-Night's-Dream"music by a droll dance for two bassoons over a sustained bass notefrom the violoncellos; but when Meyerbeer wanted a very differenteffect, a ghastly one indeed, in the scene of the resuscitation of thenuns in his "Robert le Diable, " he got it by taking two bassoons assolo instruments and using their weak middle tones, which, Berliozsays, have "a pale, cold, cadaverous sound. " Singularly enough, Handelresorted to a similar device in his "Saul, " to accompany the vision ofthe Witch of Endor. 

[Sidenote: _The double bassoon. _]

In all these cases a great deal depends upon the relation between thecharacter of the melody and the nature of the instrument to which itis set. A swelling martial fanfare may be made absurd by changing itfrom trumpets to a weak-voiced wood-wind. It is only the stringquartet that speaks all the musical languages of passion and emotion. The double-bassoon is so large an instrument that it has to be bent onitself to bring it under the control of the player. It sounds anoctave lower than the written notes. It is not brought often into theorchestra, but speaks very much to the purpose in Brahms's beautifulvariations on a theme by Haydn, and the glorious finale of Beethoven'sFifth Symphony. 

[Sidenote: _The clarinet. _]

[Sidenote: _The bass clarinet. _]

The clarinet (Plate VII. ) is the most eloquent member of the wood-windchoir, and, except some of its own modifications or the modificationsof the oboe and bassoon, the latest arrival in the harmonious company. It is only a little more than a century old. It has the widest rangeof expression of the wood-winds, and its chief structural differenceis in its mouth-piece. It has a single flat reed, which is much widerthan that of the oboe or bassoon, and is fastened by a metallic bandand screw to the flattened side of the mouth-piece, whose other sideis cut down, chisel shape, for convenience. Its voice is rich, mellow, less reedy, and much fuller and more limpid than the voice of theoboe, which Berlioz tries to describe by analogy as "sweet-sour. " Itis very flexible, too, and has a range of over three and a halfoctaves. Its high tones are sometimes shrieky, however, and the fullbeauty of the instrument is only disclosed when it sings in the middleregister. Every symphony and overture contains passages for theclarinet which serve to display its characteristics. Clarinets aremade of different sizes for different keys, the smallest being that inE-flat, with an unpleasantly piercing tone, whose use is confined tomilitary bands. There is also an alto clarinet and a bass clarinet(Plate VIII. ). The bell of the latter instrument is bent upward, pipefashion, and its voice is peculiarly impressive and noble. It is afavorite solo instrument in Liszt's symphonic poems. 

[Sidenote: _Lips and reeds. _]

[Sidenote: _The brass instruments. _]

[Sidenote: _Improvements in brass instruments. _]

[Sidenote: _Valves and slides. _]

The fundamental principle of the instruments last described is theproduction of tone by vibrating reeds. In the instruments of the brasschoir, the duty of the reeds is performed by the lips of the player. Variety of tone in respect of quality is produced by variations insize, shape, and modifications in parts like the bell and mouth-piece. The _forte_ of the orchestra receives the bulk of its puissance fromthe brass instruments, which, nevertheless, can give voice to anextensive gamut of sentiments and feelings. There is nothing morecheery and jocund than the flourishes of the horns, but also nothingmore mild and soothing than the songs which sometimes they sing. Thereis nothing more solemn and religious than the harmony of thetrombones, while "the trumpet's loud clangor" is the very voice of awar-like spirit. All of these instruments have undergone importantchanges within the last few score years. The classical composers, almost down to our own time, were restricted in the use of thembecause they were merely natural tubes, and their notes were limitedto the notes which inflexible tubes can produce. Within this century, however, they have all been transformed from imperfect diatonicinstruments to perfect chromatic instruments; that is to say, everybrass instrument which is in use now can give out all the semitoneswithin its compass. This has been accomplished through the agency ofvalves, by means of which differing lengths of the sonorous tube arebrought within the command of the players. In the case of thetrombones an exceedingly venerable means of accomplishing the same endis applied. The tube is in part made double, one part sliding over theother. By moving his arm, the player lengthens or shortens the tube, and thus changing the key of the instrument, acquires all the toneswhich can be obtained from so many tubes of different lengths. Themouth-pieces of the trumpet, trombone, and tuba are cup-shaped, andlarger than the mouth-piece of the horn, which is little else than aflare of the slender tube, sufficiently wide to receive enough of theplayer's lips to form the embouchure, or human reed, as it might herebe named. 

[Sidenote: _The French horn. _]

[Sidenote: _Manipulation of the French horn. _]

The French horn (Plate IX. ), as it is called in the orchestra, is thesweetest and mellowest of all the wind instruments. In Beethoven'stime it was but little else than the old hunting-horn, which, for theconvenience of the mounted hunter, was arranged in spiralconvolutions that it might be slipped over the head and carriedresting on one shoulder and under the opposite arm. The Germans stillcall it the _Waldhorn_, _i. E. _, "forest horn;" the old French name was_cor de chasse_, the Italian _corno di caccia_. In this instrumentformerly the tones which were not the natural resonances of theharmonic division of the tube were helped out by partly closing thebell with the right hand, it having been discovered accidentally thatby putting the hand into the lower end of the tube--the flaring partcalled the bell--the pitch of a tone was raised. Players still makeuse of this method for convenience, and sometimes because a composerwishes to employ the slightly muffled effect of these tones; but sincevalves have been added to the instrument, it is possible to play achromatic scale in what are called the unstopped or open tones. 

[Sidenote: _Kinds of horns. _]

[Sidenote: _The trumpet. _]

[Sidenote: _The cornet. _]

Formerly it was necessary to use horns of different pitch, andcomposers still respect this tradition, and designate the key of thehorns which they wish to have employed; but so skilful have theplayers become that, as a rule, they use horns whose fundamental toneis F for all keys, and achieve the old purpose by simply transposingthe music as they read it. If these most graceful instruments werestraightened out they would be seventeen feet long. The convolutionsof the horn and the many turns of the trumpet are all the fruit ofnecessity; they could not be manipulated to produce the tones that areasked of them if they were not bent and curved. The trumpet, when itstube is lengthened by the addition of crooks for its lowest key, iseight feet long; the tuba, sixteen. In most orchestras (in all ofthose in the United States, in fact, except the Boston and ChicagoOrchestras and the Symphony Society of New York) the word trumpet ismerely a euphemism for cornet, the familiar leading instrument of thebrass band, which, while it falls short of the trumpet in the qualityof its tone, in the upper registers especially, is a more easilymanipulated instrument than the trumpet, and is preferable in thelower tones. 

[Sidenote: _The trombone. _]

Mendelssohn is quoted as saying that the trombones (Plate X. ) "are toosacred to use often. " They have, indeed, a majesty and nobility alltheir own, and the lowest use to which they can be put is to furnish aflaring and noisy harmony in an orchestral _tutti_. They aremarvellously expressive instruments, and without a peer in the wholeinstrumental company when a solemn and spiritually uplifting effect isto be attained. They can also be made to sound menacing andlugubrious, devout and mocking, pompously heroic, majestic, and lofty. They are often the heralds of the orchestra, and make sonorousproclamations. 

[Sidenote: _Trombone effects. _]

[Sidenote: _The tuba. _]

The classic composers always seemed to approach the trombones withmarked respect, but nowadays it requires a very big blue pencil in thehands of a very uncompromising conservatory professor to prevent astudent engaged on his _Opus 1_ from keeping his trombones going halfthe time at least. It is an old story how Mozart keeps the instrumentssilent through three-fourths of his immortal "Don Giovanni, " so thatthey may enter with overwhelming impressiveness along with theghostly visitor of the concluding scene. As a rule, there are threetrombones in the modern orchestra--two tenors and a bass. Formerlythere were four kinds, bearing the names of the voices to which theywere supposed to be nearest in tone-quality and compass--soprano, alto, tenor, and bass. Full four-part harmony is now performed by thethree trombones and the tuba (Plate XI. ). The latter instrument, which, despite its gigantic size, is exceedingly tractable can "roaryou as gently as any sucking dove. " Far-away and strangely mysterioustones are got out of the brass instruments, chiefly the cornet andhorn, by almost wholly closing the bell. 

[Sidenote: _Instruments of percussion. _]

[Sidenote: _The xylophone. _]

[Sidenote: _Kettle-drums. _]

[Sidenote: _Pfund's tuning device. _]

[Sidenote: _Pitch of the drums. _]

[Sidenote: _Qualifications of a drummer. _]

The percussion apparatus of the modern orchestra includes a multitudeof instruments scarcely deserving of description. Several varieties ofdrums, cymbals, triangle, tambourine, steel bars (_Glockenspiel_), gongs, bells, and many other things which we are now inclined to lookupon as toys, rather than as musical instruments, are brought intoplay for reasons more or less fantastic. Saint-Saëns has even utilizedthe barbarous xylophone, whose proper place is the variety hall, inhis "Danse Macabre. " There his purpose was a fantastic one, and theeffect is capital. The pictorial conceit at the bottom of the poemwhich the music illustrates is Death, as a skeleton, seated on atombstone, playing the viol, and gleefully cracking his bony heelsagainst the marble. To produce this effect, the composer uses thexylophone with capital results. But of all the ordinary instruments ofpercussion, the only one that is really musical and deserving ofcomment is the kettle-drum. This instrument is more musical than theothers because it has pitch. Its voice is not mere noise, but musicalnoise. Kettle-drums, or tympani, are generally used in pairs, thoughthe vast multiplication of effects by modern composers has resultedalso in the extension of this department of the band. It is seldomthat more than two pairs are used, a good player with a quick earbeing able to accomplish all that Wagner asks of six drums by hisdeftness in changing the pitch of the instruments. This work of tuningis still performed generally in what seems a rudimentary way, though aGerman drum-builder named Pfund invented a contrivance by which theplayer, by simply pressing on a balanced pedal and watching anindicator affixed to the side of the drums, can change the pitch toany desired semitone within the range of an octave. 

The tympani are hemispherical brass or copper vessels, kettles inshort, covered with vellum heads. The pitch of the instrument dependson the tension of the head, which is applied generally by key-screwsworking through the iron ring which holds the vellum. There is adifference in the size of the drums to place at the command of theplayer the octave from F in the first space below the bass staff to Fon the fourth line of the same staff. Formerly the purpose of thedrums was simply to give emphasis, and they were then uniformly tunedto the key-note and fifth of the key in which a composition was set. Now they are tuned in many ways, not only to allow for the frequentchange of keys, but also so that they may be used as harmonyinstruments. Berlioz did more to develop the drums than any composerwho has ever lived, though Beethoven already manifested appreciationof their independent musical value. In the last movement of his EighthSymphony and the scherzo of his Ninth, he tunes them in octaves, hispurpose in the latter case being to give the opening figure, an octaveleap, of the scherzo melody to the drums solo. The most extravagantuse ever made of the drums, however, was by Berlioz in his "Messe desMorts, " where he called in eight pairs of drums and ten players tohelp him to paint his tonal picture of the terrors of the lastjudgment. The post of drummer is one of the most difficult to fill ina symphonic orchestra. He is required to have not only a perfect senseof time and rhythm, but also a keen sense of pitch, for often thecomposer asks him to change the pitch of one or both of his drums inthe space of a very few seconds. He must then be able to shut allother sounds out of his mind, and bring his drums into a new key whilethe orchestra is playing--an extremely nice task. 

[Sidenote: _The bass drum. _]

The development of modern orchestral music has given dignity also tothe bass drum, which, though definite pitch is denied to it, is nowmanipulated in a variety of ways productive of striking effects. Rollsare played on it with the sticks of the kettle-drums, and it has beenemancipated measurably from the cymbals, which in vulgar brass-bandmusic are its inseparable companions. 

[Sidenote: _The conductor. _]

[Sidenote: _Time-beaters and interpreters. _]

[Sidenote: _The conductor a necessity. _]

In the full sense of the term the orchestral conductor is a product ofthe latter half of the present century. Of course, ever sinceconcerted music began, there has been a musical leader of some kind. Mural paintings and carvings fashioned in Egypt long before Apollosang his magic song and

 "Ilion, like a mist, rose into towers, "

show the conductor standing before his band beating time by clappinghis hands; and if we are to credit what we have been told about Hebrewmusic, Asaph, Heman, and Jeduthun, when they stood before theirmultitudinous choirs in the temple at Jerusalem, promoted synchronismin the performance by stamping upon the floor with lead-shodden feet. Before the era which developed what I might call "star" conductors, these leaders were but captains of tens and captains of hundreds whoaccomplished all that was expected of them if they made the performerskeep musical step together. They were time-beaters merely--humanmetronomes. The modern conductor is, in a sense not dreamed of acentury ago, a mediator between the composer and the audience. He is avirtuoso who plays upon men instead of a key-board, upon a hundredinstruments instead of one. Music differs from her sister arts in manyrespects, but in none more than in her dependence on the intermediarywho stands between her and the people for whose sake she exists. It isthis intermediary who wakens her into life. 

 "Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter, "

is a pretty bit of hyperbole which involves a contradiction in terms. An unheard melody is no melody at all, and as soon as we have music inwhich a number of singers or instrumentalists are employed, the taste, feeling, and judgment of an individual are essential to itsintelligent and effective publication. In the gentle days of the longago, when suavity and loveliness of utterance and a recognition offormal symmetry were the "be-all and end-all" of the art, atime-beater sufficed to this end; but now the contents of music aregreater, the vessel has been wondrously widened, the language isbecome curiously complex and ingenious, and no composer of to-day canwrite down universally intelligible signs for all that he wishes tosay. Someone must grasp the whole, expound it to the individualfactors which make up the performing sum and provide what is called aninterpretation to the public. 

[Sidenote: _"Star" conductors. _]

That someone, of course, is the conductor, and considering theprogress that music is continually making it is not at all to bewondered at that he has become a person of stupendous power in theculture of to-day. The one singularity is that he should be so rare. This rarity has had its natural consequence, and the conductor who canconduct, in contradistinction to the conductor who can only beat time, is now a "star. " At present we see him going from place to place inEurope giving concerts in which he figures as the principalattraction. The critics discuss his "readings" just as they do theperformances of great pianists and singers. A hundred blowers ofbrass, scrapers of strings, and tootlers on windy wood, labor beneathhim transmuting the composer's mysterious symbols into living sound, and when it is all over we frequently find that it seems all to havebeen done for the greater glory of the conductor instead of the gloryof art. That, however, is a digression which it is not necessary topursue. 

[Sidenote: _Mistaken popular notions. _]

[Sidenote: _What the conductor does. _]

[Sidenote: _Rests and cues. _]

Questions and remarks have frequently been addressed to me indicativeof the fact that there is a widespread popular conviction that themission of a conductor is chiefly ornamental at an orchestralconcert. That is a sad misconception, and grows out of the old notionthat a conductor is only a time-beater. Assuming that the men of theband have played sufficiently together, it is thought that eventuallythey might keep time without the help of the conductor. It is truethat the greater part of the conductor's work is done at rehearsal, atwhich he enforces upon his men his wishes concerning the speed of themusic, expression, and the balance of tone between the differentinstruments. But all the injunctions given at rehearsal by word ofmouth are reiterated by means of a system of signs and signals duringthe concert performance. Time and rhythm are indicated by themovements of the bâton, the former by the speed of the beats, thelatter by the direction, the tones upon which the principal stress isto fall being indicated by the down-beat of the bâton. The amplitudeof the movements also serves to indicate the conductor's wishesconcerning dynamic variations, while the left hand is ordinarily usedin pantomimic gestures to control individual players or groups. Glances and a play of facial expression also assist in the guidance ofthe instrumental body. Every musician is expected to count the restswhich occur in his part, but when they are of long duration (andsometimes they amount to a hundred measures or more) it is customaryfor the conductor to indicate the entrance of an instrument by aglance at the player. From this mere outline of the communicationswhich pass between the conductor and his band it will be seen howindispensable he is if music is to have a consistent and vitalinterpretation. 

[Sidenote: _Personal magnetism. _]

The layman will perhaps also be enabled, by observing the actions of aconductor with a little understanding of their purposes, to appreciatewhat critics mean when they speak of the "magnetism" of a leader. Hewill understand that among other things it means the aptitude orcapacity for creating a sympathetic relationship between himself andhis men which enables him the better by various devices, somearbitrary, some technical and conventional, to imbue them with histhoughts and feelings relative to a composition, and through them tobody them forth to the audience. 

[Sidenote: _The score. _]

[Sidenote: _Its arrangement. _]

[Sidenote: _Score reading. _]

What it is that the conductor has to guide him while giving his mutecommands to his forces may be seen in the reproduction, in theAppendix, of a page from an orchestral score (Plate XII). A score, itwill be observed, is a reproduction of all the parts of a compositionas they lie upon the desks of the players. The ordering of these partsin the score has not always been as now, but the plan which has thewidest and longest approval is that illustrated in our example. Thewood-winds are grouped together on the uppermost six staves, the brassin the middle with the tympani separating the horns and trumpets fromthe trombones, the strings on the lowermost five staves. The examplehas been chosen because it shows all the instruments of the bandemployed at once (it is the famous opening _tutti_ of the triumphalmarch of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony), and is easy of comprehension bymusical amateurs for the reason that none of the parts requirestransposition except it be an octave up in the case of the piccolo, an instrument of four-foot tone, and an octave down in the case of thedouble-basses, which are of sixteen-foot tone. All the other parts areto be read as printed, proper attention being given to the alto andtenor clefs used in the parts of the trombones and violas. The abilityto "read score" is one of the most essential attributes of aconductor, who, if he have the proper training, can bring all theparts together and reproduce them on the pianoforte, transposing thosewhich do not sound as written and reading the different clefs at sightas he goes along. 

V

_At an Orchestral Concert_

[Sidenote: _Classical and Popular. _]

[Sidenote: _Orchestras and military bands. _]

In popular phrase all high-class music is "classical, " and allconcerts at which such music is played are "classical concerts. " Herethe word is conceived as the antithesis of "popular, " which term isused to designate the ordinary music of the street and music-hall. Elsewhere I have discussed the true meaning of the word and shown itsrelation to "romantic" in the terminology of musical critics andhistorians. No harm is done by using both "classical" and "popular" intheir common significations, so far as they convey a difference incharacter between concerts. The highest popular conception of aclassical concert is one in which a complete orchestra performssymphonies and extended compositions in allied forms, such asovertures, symphonic poems, and concertos. Change the composition ofthe instrumental body, by omitting the strings and augmenting the reedand brass choirs, and you have a military band which is best employedin the open air, and whose programmes are generally made up ofcompositions in the simpler and more easily comprehendedforms--dances, marches, fantasias on popular airs, arrangements ofoperatic excerpts and the like. These, then, are popular concerts inthe broadest sense, though it is proper enough to apply the term alsoto concerts given by a symphonic band when the programme is light incharacter and aims at more careless diversion than should be sought ata "classical" concert. The latter term, again, is commended to use bythe fact that as a rule the music performed at such a concertexemplifies the higher forms in the art, classicism in music beingdefined as that principle which seeks expression in beauty of form, ina symmetrical ordering of parts and logical sequence, "preferringæsthetic beauty, pure and simple, over emotional content, " as I havesaid in Chapter III. 

[Sidenote: _The Symphony. _]

[Sidenote: _Mistaken ideas about the form. _]

As the highest type of instrumental music, we take the Symphony. Veryrarely indeed is a concert given by an organization like the New Yorkand London Philharmonic Societies, or the Boston and ChicagoOrchestras, at which the place of honor in the scheme of pieces is notgiven to a symphony. Such a concert is for that reason also spoken ofpopularly as a "Symphony concert, " and no confusion would necessarilyresult from the use of the term even if it so chanced that there wasno symphony on the programme. What idea the word symphony conveys tothe musically illiterate it would be difficult to tell. I have known aprofessional writer on musical subjects to express the opinion that asymphony was nothing else than four unrelated compositions fororchestra arranged in a certain sequence for the sake of an agreeablecontrast of moods and tempos. It is scarcely necessary to say that thewriter in question had a very poor opinion of the Symphony as anArt-form, and believed that it had outlived its usefulness and shouldbe relegated to the limbo of Archaic Things. If he, however, trainedin musical history and familiar with musical literature, could seeonly four unrelated pieces of music in a symphony by Beethoven, weneed not marvel that hazy notions touching the nature of the form areprevalent among the untaught public, and that people can be met inconcert-rooms to whom such words as "Symphony in C minor, " and theprinted designations of the different portions of the work--the"movements, " as musicians call them--are utterly bewildering. 

[Sidenote: _History of the term. _]

[Sidenote: _Changes in meaning. _]

[Sidenote: _Handel's "Pastoral Symphony. "_]

The word symphony has itself a singularly variegated history. Likemany another term in music it was borrowed by the modern world fromthe ancient Greek. To those who coined it, however, it had a muchnarrower meaning than to us who use it, with only a conventionalchange in transliteration, now. By [Greek: symphônia] the Greekssimply expressed the concept of agreement, or consonance. Applied tomusic it meant first such intervals as unisons; then the notion wasextended to include consonant harmonies, such as the fifth, fourth, and octave. The study of the ancient theoreticians led the musiciansof the Middle Ages to apply the word to harmony in general. Then insome inexplicable fashion it came to stand as a generic term forinstrumental compositions such as toccatas, sonatas, etc. Its name wasgiven to one of the precursors of the pianoforte, and in Germany inthe sixteenth century the word _Symphoney_ came to mean a town band. In the last century and the beginning of this the term was used todesignate an instrumental introduction to a composition for voices, such as a song or chorus, as also an instrumental piece introduced ina choral work. The form, that is the extent and structure of thecomposition, had nothing to do with the designation, as we see fromthe Italian shepherds' tune which Handel set for strings in "TheMessiah;" he called it simply _pifa_, but his publishers called it a"Pastoral symphony, " and as such we still know it. It was about themiddle of the eighteenth century that the present significationbecame crystallized in the word, and since the symphonies of Haydn, inwhich the form first reached perfection, are still to be heard in ourconcert-rooms, it may be said that all the masterpieces of symphonicliterature are current. 

[Sidenote: _The allied forms. _]

[Sidenote: _Sonata form. _]

[Sidenote: _Symphony, sonata, and concerto. _]

I have already hinted at the fact that there is an intimaterelationship between the compositions usually heard at a classicalconcert. Symphonies, symphonic poems, concertos for solo instrumentsand orchestra, as well as the various forms of chamber music, such astrios, quartets, and quintets for strings, or pianoforte and strings, are but different expressions of the idea which is best summed up inthe word sonata. What musicians call the "sonata form" lies at thebottom of them all--even those which seem to consist of a singlepiece, like the symphonic poem and overture. Provided it follow, notof necessity slavishly, but in its general structure, a certain schemewhich was slowly developed by the geniuses who became the law-giversof the art, a composite or cyclical composition (that is, onecomposed of a number of parts, or movements) is, as the case may be, asymphony, concerto, or sonata. It is a sonata if it be written for asolo instrument like the pianoforte or organ, or for one like theviolin or clarinet, with pianoforte accompaniment. If theaccompaniment be written for orchestra, it is called a concerto. Asonata written for an orchestra is a symphony. The nature of theinterpreting medium naturally determines the exposition of the form, but all the essential attributes can be learned from a study of thesymphony, which because of the dignity and eloquence of its apparatusadmits of a wider scope than its allies, and must be accepted as thehighest type, not merely of the sonata, but of the instrumental art. It will be necessary presently to point out the more importantmodifications which compositions of this character have undergone inthe development of music, but the ends of clearness will be bestsubserved if the study be conducted on fundamental lines. 

[Sidenote: _What a symphony is. _]

[Sidenote: _The bond of unity between the parts. _]

The symphony then, as a rule, is a composition for orchestra made upof four parts, or movements, which are not only related to each otherby a bond of sympathy established by the keys chosen but also by theiremotional contents. Without this higher bond the unity of the workwould be merely mechanical, like the unity accomplished by sameness ofkey in the old-fashioned suite. (See Chapter VI. ) The bond ofkey-relationship, though no longer so obvious as once it was, is yetreadily discovered by a musician; the spiritual bond is more elusive, and presents itself for recognition to the imagination and thefeelings of the listener. Nevertheless, it is an element in everytruly great symphony, and I have already indicated how it maysometimes become patent to the ear alone, so it be intelligentlyemployed, and enjoy the co-operation of memory. 

[Sidenote: _The first movement. _]

[Sidenote: _Exposition of subjects. _]

[Sidenote: _Repetition of the first subdivision. _]

It is the first movement of a symphony which embodies the structuralscheme called the "sonata form. " It has a triple division, and Mr. Edward Dannreuther has aptly defined it as "the triune symmetry ofexposition, illustration, and repetition. " In the first division thecomposer introduces the melodies which he has chosen to be thethematic material of the movement, and to fix the character of theentire work; he presents it for identification. The themes are two, and their exposition generally exemplifies the principle ofkey-relationship, which was the basis of my analysis of a simple folktune in Chapter II. In the case of the best symphonists the principaland second subjects disclose a contrast, not violent but yet distinct, in mood or character. If the first is rhythmically energetic andassertive--masculine, let me say--the second will be more sedate, moregentle in utterance--feminine. After the two subjects have beenintroduced along with some subsidiary phrases and passages which thecomposer uses to bind them together and modulate from one key intoanother, the entire division is repeated. That is the rule, but it isnow as often "honored in the breach" as in the observance, someconductors not even hesitating to ignore the repeat marks inBeethoven's scores. 

[Sidenote: _The free fantasia or "working-out" portion. _]

[Sidenote: _Repetition. _]

The second division is now taken up. In it the composer exploits hislearning and fancy in developing his thematic material. He is nowentirely free to send it through long chains of keys, to vary theharmonies, rhythms, and instrumentation, to take a single pregnantmotive and work it out with all the ingenuity he can muster; to forceit up "steep-up spouts" of passion and let it whirl in the surge, orplunge it into "steep-down gulfs of liquid fire, " and consume its ownheart. Technically this part is called the "free fantasia" in English, and the _Durchführung_--"working out"--in German. I mention the termsbecause they sometimes occur in criticisms and analyses. It is in thisdivision that the genius of a composer has fullest play, and there isno greater pleasure, no more delightful excitement, for thesymphony-lover than to follow the luminous fancy of Beethoven throughhis free fantasias. The third division is devoted to a repetition, with modifications, of the first division and the addition of a close. 

[Sidenote: _Introductions. _]

[Sidenote: _Keys and Titles. _]

First movements are quick and energetic, and frequently full ofdramatic fire. In them the psychological story is begun which is tobe developed in the remaining chapters of the work--its sorrows, hopes, prayers, or communings in the slow movement; its madness ormerriment in the scherzo; its outcome, triumphant or tragic, in thefinale. Sometimes the first movement is preceded by a slowintroduction, intended to prepare the mind of the listener for theproclamation which shall come with the _Allegro_. The key of theprincipal subject is set down as the key of the symphony, and unlessthe composer gives his work a special title for the purpose ofproviding a hint as to its poetical contents ("Eroica, " "Pastoral, ""Faust, " "In the Forest, " "Lenore, " "Pathétique, " etc. ), or tocharacterize its style ("Scotch, " "Italian, " "Irish, " "Welsh, ""Scandinavian, " "From the New World"), it is known only by its key, orthe number of the work (_opus_) in the composer's list. Therefore wehave Mozart's Symphony "in G minor, " Beethoven's "in A major, "Schumann's "in C, " Brahms's "in F, " and so on. 

[Sidenote: _The second movement. _]

[Sidenote: _Variations. _]

The second movement in the symphonic scheme is the slow movement. Musicians frequently call it the Adagio, for convenience, though thetempi of slow movements ranges from extremely slow (_Largo_) to theborder line of fast, as in the case of the Allegretto of the SeventhSymphony of Beethoven. The mood of the slow movement is frequentlysombre, and its instrumental coloring dark; but it may also beconsolatory, contemplative, restful, religiously uplifting. Thewriting is preferably in a broadly sustained style, the effect beingthat of an exalted hymn, and this has led to a predilection for atheme and variations as the mould in which to cast the movement. Theslow movements of Beethoven's Fifth and Ninth Symphonies are made upof variations. 

[Sidenote: _The Scherzo. _]

[Sidenote: _Genesis of the Scherzo. _]

[Sidenote: _The Trio. _]

The Scherzo is, as the term implies, the playful, jocose movement of asymphony, but in the case of sublime geniuses like Beethoven andSchumann, who blend profound melancholy with wild humor, theplayfulness is sometimes of a kind which invites us to thoughtfulnessinstead of merriment. This is true also of some Russian composers, whose scherzos have the desperate gayety which speaks from the musicof a sad people whose merrymaking is not a spontaneous expression ofexuberant spirits but a striving after self-forgetfulness. The Scherzois the successor of the Minuet, whose rhythm and form served thecomposers down to Beethoven. It was he who substituted the Scherzo, which retains the chief formal characteristics of the courtly olddance in being in triple time and having a second part called theTrio. With the change there came an increase in speed, but it ought tobe remembered that the symphonic minuet was quicker than the dance ofthe same name. A tendency toward exaggeration, which is patent amongmodern conductors, is threatening to rob the symphonic minuet of thevivacity which gave it its place in the scheme of the symphony. Theentrance of the Trio is marked by the introduction of a new idea (asecond minuet) which is more sententious than the first part, andsometimes in another key, the commonest change being from minor tomajor. 

[Sidenote: _The Finale. _]

[Sidenote: _Rondo form. _]

The final movement, technically the Finale, is another piece of largedimensions in which the psychological drama which plays through thefour acts of the symphony is brought to a conclusion. Once the purposeof the Finale was but to bring the symphony to a merry end, but as theexpressive capacity of music has been widened, and mere play withæsthetic forms has given place to attempts to convey sentiments andfeelings, the purposes of the last movement have been greatly extendedand varied. As a rule the form chosen for the Finale is that calledthe Rondo. Borrowed from an artificial verse-form (the French_Rondeau_), this species of composition illustrates the peculiarity ofthat form in the reiteration of a strophe ever and anon after a newtheme or episode has been exploited. In modern society verse, whichhas grown out of an ambition to imitate the ingenious form invented bymediæval poets, we have the Triolet, which may be said to be a rondeauin miniature. I choose one of Mr. H. C. Bunner's dainty creations toillustrate the musical refrain characteristic of the rondo formbecause of its compactness. Here it is:

[Sidenote: _A Rondo pattern in poetry. _]

 "A pitcher of mignonette In a tenement's highest casement: Queer sort of a flower-pot--yet That pitcher of mignonette Is a garden in heaven set, To the little sick child in the basement-- The pitcher of mignonette, In the tenement's highest casement. "

[Sidenote: _Other forms for the Finale. _]

If now the first two lines of this poem, which compose its refrain, bepermitted to stand as the principal theme of a musical piece, we havein Mr. Bunner's triolet a rondo _in nuce_. There is in it a threefoldexposition of the theme alternating with episodic matter. Another formfor the finale is that of the first movement (the Sonata form), andstill another, the theme and variations. Beethoven chose the latterfor his "Eroica, " and the choral close of his Ninth, Dvorák, for hissymphony in G major, and Brahms for his in E minor. 

[Sidenote: _Organic Unities. _]

[Sidenote: _How enforced. _]

[Sidenote: _Berlioz's "idée fixe. "_]

[Sidenote: _Recapitulation of themes. _]

I am attempting nothing more than a characterization of the symphony, and the forms with which I associated it at the outset, which shallhelp the untrained listener to comprehend them as unities despite thefact that to the careless hearer they present themselves as groups ofpieces each one of which is complete in itself and has no connectionwith its fellows. The desire of composers to have their symphoniesaccepted as unities instead of compages of unrelated pieces has led tothe adoption of various devices designed to force the bond of unionupon the attention of the hearer. Thus Beethoven in his symphony in Cminor not only connects the third and fourth movements but alsointroduces a reminiscence of the former into the midst of the latter;Berlioz in his "Symphonie Fantastique, " which is written to what maybe called a dramatic scheme, makes use of a melody which he calls"_l'idée fixe_, " and has it recur in each of the four movements as anepisode. This, however, is frankly a symphony with programme, andought not to be treated as a modification of the pure form. Dvorák inhis symphony entitled "From the New World, " in which he has striven togive expression to the American spirit, quotes the first period of hisprincipal subject in all the subsequent movements, and thensententiously recapitulates the principal themes of the first, second, and third movements in the finale; and this without a sign of thedramatic purpose confessed by Berlioz. 

[Sidenote: _Introduction of voices. _]

[Sidenote: _Abolition of pauses. _]

In the last movement of his Ninth Symphony Beethoven calls voices tothe aid of his instruments. It was a daring innovation, as it seemedto disrupt the form, and we know from the story of the work how longhe hunted for the connecting link, which finally he found in theinstrumental recitative. Having hit upon the device, he summons eachof the preceding movements, which are purely instrumental, into thepresence of his augmented forces and dismisses it as inadequate to theproclamation which the symphony was to make. The double-basses andsolo barytone are the spokesmen for the tuneful host. He thus achievesthe end of connecting the Allegro, Scherzo, and Adagio with eachother, and all with the Finale, and at the same time points out whatit is that he wishes us to recognize as the inspiration of the whole;but here, again, the means appear to be somewhat extraneous. Schumann's example, however, in abolishing the pauses between themovements of the symphony in D minor, and having melodic materialcommon to all the movements, is a plea for appreciation which cannotbe misunderstood. Before Schumann Mendelssohn intended that his"Scotch" symphony should be performed without pauses between themovements, but his wishes have been ignored by the conductors, I fancybecause he having neglected to knit the movements together bycommunity of ideas, they can see no valid reason for the abolition ofthe conventional resting-places. 

[Sidenote: _Beethoven's "choral" symphony followed. _]

Beethoven's augmentation of the symphonic forces by employing voiceshas been followed by Berlioz in his "Romeo and Juliet, " which, thoughcalled a "dramatic symphony, " is a mixture of symphony, cantata, andopera; Mendelssohn in his "Hymn of Praise" (which is also a compositework and has a composite title--"Symphony Cantata"), and Liszt in his"Faust" symphony, in the finale of which we meet a solo tenor andchorus of men's voices who sing Goethe's _Chorus mysticus_. 

[Sidenote: _Increase in the number of movements. _]

A number of other experiments have been made, the effectiveness ofwhich has been conceded in individual instances, but which have failedpermanently to affect the symphonic form. Schumann has two trios inhis symphony in B-flat, and his E-flat, the so-called "Rhenish, " hasfive movements instead of four, there being two slow movements, one inmoderate tempo (_Nicht schnell_), and the other in slow (_Feierlich_). In this symphony, also, Schumann exercises the license which has beenrecognized since Beethoven's time, of changing the places in thescheme of the second and third movements, giving the second place tothe jocose division instead of the slow. Beethoven's "Pastoral" hasalso five movements, unless one chooses to take the storm whichinterrupts the "Merry-making of the Country Folk" as standing towardthe last movement as an introduction, as, indeed, it does in thecomposer's idyllic scheme. Certain it is, Sir George Grove to thecontrary notwithstanding, that the sense of a disturbance of thesymphonic plan is not so vivid at a performance of the "Pastoral" asat one of Schumann's "Rhenish, " in which either the third movement orthe so-called "Cathedral Scene" is most distinctly an interloper. 

[Sidenote: _Further extension of boundaries. _]

[Sidenote: _Saint-Saëns's C minor symphony. _]

Usually it is deference to the demands of a "programme" thatinfluences composers in extending the formal boundaries of a symphony, and when this is done the result is frequently a work which can onlybe called a symphony by courtesy. M. Saint-Saëns, however, attemptedan original excursion in his symphony in C minor, without anydiscoverable, or at least confessed, programmatic idea. He laid thework out in two grand divisions, so as to have but one pause. Nevertheless in each division we can recognize, though as through ahaze, the outlines of the familiar symphonic movements. In the firstpart, buried under a sequence of time designations like this:_Adagio_--_Allegro moderato_--_Poco adagio_, we discover the customaryfirst and second movements, the former preceded by a slowintroduction; in the second division we find this arrangement:_Allegro moderato_--_Presto_--_Maestoso_--_Allegro_, this multiplicityof terms affording only a sort of disguise for the regulation scherzoand finale, with a cropping out of reminiscences from the first partwhich have the obvious purpose to impress upon the hearer that thesymphony is an organic whole. M. Saint-Saëns has also introduced theorgan and a pianoforte with two players into the instrumentalapparatus. 

[Sidenote: _The Symphonic Poem. _]

[Sidenote: _Its characteristics. _]

Three characteristics may be said to distinguish the Symphonic Poem, which in the view of the extremists who follow the lead of Liszt isthe logical outcome of the symphony and the only expression of itsæsthetic principles consonant with modern thought and feeling. _First_, it is programmatic--that is, it is based upon a poeticalidea, a sequence of incidents, or of soul-states, to which a clew isgiven either by the title or a motto; _second_, it is compacted inform to a single movement, though as a rule the changing phasesdelineated in the separate movements of the symphony are also to befound in the divisions of the work marked by changes in tempo, key, and character; _third_, the work generally has a principal subject ofsuch plasticity that the composer can body forth a varied content bypresenting it in a number of transformations. 

[Sidenote: _Liszt's first pianoforte concerto. _]

The last two characteristics Liszt has carried over into hispianoforte concerto in E-flat. This has four distinct movements (viz. :I. _Allegro maestoso_; II. _Quasi adagio_; III. _Allegretto vivace, scherzando_; IV. _Allegro marziale animato_), but they are fused intoa continuous whole, throughout which the principal thought of thework, the stupendously energetic phrase which the orchestra proclaimsat the outset, is presented in various forms to make it express agreat variety of moods and yet give unity to the concerto. "Thus, bymeans of this metamorphosis, " says Mr. Edward Dannreuther, "thepoetic unity of the whole musical tissue is made apparent, spite ofvery great diversity of details; and Coleridge's attempt at adefinition of poetic unity--unity in multiety--is carried out to theletter. "

[Sidenote: _Other cyclical forms. _]

[Sidenote: _Pianoforte and orchestra. _]

It will readily be understood that the other cyclical compositionswhich I have associated with a classic concert, that is, compositionsbelonging to the category of chamber music (see Chapter III. ), andconcertos for solo instruments with orchestral accompaniment, whileconforming to the scheme which I have outlined, all have individualcharacteristics conditioned on the expressive capacity of theapparatus. The modern pianoforte is capable of asserting itselfagainst a full orchestra, and concertos have been written for it inwhich it is treated as an orchestral integer rather than a soloinstrument. In the older conception, the orchestra, though itfrequently assumed the privilege of introducing the subject-matter, played a subordinate part to the solo instrument in its development. In violin as well as pianoforte concertos special opportunity isgiven to the player to exploit his skill and display the soloinstrument free from structural restrictions in the cadenza introducedshortly before the close of the first, last, or both movements. 

[Sidenote: _Cadenzas. _]

[Sidenote: _Improvisations by the player. _]

[Sidenote: _M. Ysaye's opinion of Cadenzas. _]

Cadenzas are a relic of a time when the art of improvisation was moregenerally practised than it is now, and when performers were concededto have rights beyond the printed page. Solely for their display, itbecame customary for composers to indicate by a hold ([fermatasymbol]) a place where the performer might indulge in a flourish ofhis own. There is a tradition that Mozart once remarked: "Wherever Ismear that thing, " indicating a hold, "you can do what you please;"the rule is, however, that the only privilege which the cadenza opensto the player is that of improvising on material drawn from thesubjects already developed, and since, also as a rule, composers aregenerally more eloquent in the treatment of their own ideas thanperformers, it is seldom that a cadenza contributes to the enjoymentafforded by a work, except to the lovers of technique for technique'ssake. I never knew an artist to make a more sensible remark than didM. Ysaye, when on the eve of a memorably beautiful performance ofBeethoven's violin concerto, he said: "If I were permitted to consultmy own wishes I would put my violin under my arm when I reach the_fermate_ and say: 'Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached the cadenza. It is presumptuous in any musician to think that he can have anythingto say after Beethoven has finished. With your permission we willconsider my cadenza played. '" That Beethoven may himself have had athought of the same nature is a fair inference from the circumstancethat he refused to leave the cadenza in his E-flat pianoforte concertoto the mercy of the virtuosos but wrote it himself. 

[Sidenote: _Concertos. _]

[Sidenote: _Chamber music. _]

Concertos for pianoforte or violin are usually written in threemovements, of which the first and last follow the symphonic model inrespect of elaboration and form, and the second is a brief movementin slow or moderate time, which has the character of an intermezzo. Asto the nomenclature of chamber music, it is to be noted that unlessconnected with a qualifying word or phrase, "Quartet" means a stringquartet. When a pianoforte is consorted with strings the work isspoken of as a Pianoforte Trio, Quartet, or Quintet, as the case maybe. 

[Sidenote: _The Overture. _]

[Sidenote: _Pot-pourris. _]

The form of the overture is that of the first movement of the sonata, or symphony, omitting the repetition of the first subdivision. Sincethe original purpose, which gave the overture its name (_Ouverture_ =aperture, opening), was to introduce a drama, either spoken orlyrical, an oratorio, or other choral composition, it became customaryfor the composers to choose the subjects of the piece from theclimacteric moments of the music used in the drama. When done withoutregard to the rules of construction (as is the case with practicallyall operetta overtures and Rossini's) the result is not an overture atall, but a _pot-pourri_, a hotch-potch of jingles. The presentbeautiful form, in which Beethoven and other composers have shownthat it is possible to epitomize an entire drama, took the place of anarbitrary scheme which was wholly aimless, so far as the compositionsto which they were attached were concerned. 

[Sidenote: _Old styles of overtures. _]

[Sidenote: _The Prelude. _]

[Sidenote: _Gluck's principle. _]

[Sidenote: _Descriptive titles. _]

The earliest fixed form of the overture is preserved to the currentlists of to-day by the compositions of Bach and Handel. It is thatestablished by Lully, and is tripartite in form, consisting of a rapidmovement, generally a fugue, preceded and followed by a slow movementwhich is grave and stately in its tread. In its latest phase theoverture has yielded up its name in favor of Prelude (German, _Vorspiel_), Introduction, or Symphonic Prologue. The finest of these, without borrowing their themes from the works which they introduce, but using new matter entirely, seek to fulfil the aim which Gluck setfor himself, when, in the preface to "Alceste, " he wrote: "I imaginedthat the overture ought to prepare the audience for the action of thepiece, and serve as a kind of argument to it. " Concert overtures arecompositions designed by the composers to stand as independent piecesinstead of for performance in connection with a drama, opera, ororatorio. When, as is frequently the case, the composer, nevertheless, gives them a descriptive title ("Hebrides, " "Sakuntala"), theirpoetical contents are to be sought in the associations aroused by thetitle. Thus, in the instances cited, "Hebrides" suggests that theoverture was designed by Mendelssohn to reflect the mood awakened inhim by a visit to the Hebrides, more particularly to Fingal's Cave(wherefore the overture is called the "Fingal's Cave" overture inGermany)--"Sakuntala" invites to a study of Kalidasa's drama of thatname as the repository of the sentiments which Goldmark undertook toexpress in his music. 

[Sidenote: _Serenades. _]

[Sidenote: _The Serenade in Shakespeare. _]

A form which is variously employed, for solo instruments, smallcombinations, and full orchestra (though seldom with the completemodern apparatus), is the Serenade. Historically, it is a contemporaryof the old suites and the first symphonies, and like them it consistsof a group of short pieces, so arranged as to form an agreeablecontrast with each other, and yet convey a sense of organic unity. The character of the various parts and their order grew out of thepurpose for which the serenade was originated, which was thatindicated by the name. In the last century, and earlier, it was nouncommon thing for a lover to bring the tribute of a musicalperformance to his mistress, and it was not always a "woful ballad"sung to her eyebrow. Frequently musicians were hired, and the tributetook the form of a nocturnal concert. In Shakespeare's "Two Gentlemenof Verona, " _Proteus_, prompting _Thurio_ what to do to win _Silvia's_love, says:

 "Visit by night your lady's chamber window With some sweet concert: to their instruments Tune a deploring dump; the night's dread silence Will well become such sweet complaining grievance. "

[Sidenote: _Out-of-doors music. _]

[Sidenote: _Old forms. _]

[Sidenote: _The "Dump. "_]

[Sidenote: _Beethoven's Serenade, op. 8. _]

It was for such purposes that the serenade was invented as aninstrumental form. Since they were to play out of doors, _SirThurio's_ musicians would have used wind instruments instead ofviols, and the oldest serenades are composed for oboes and bassoons. Clarinets and horns were subsequently added, and for such bands Mozartwrote serenades, some of which so closely approach the symphony thatthey have been published as symphonies. A serenade in the olden timeopened very properly with a march, to the strains of which we mayimagine the musicians approaching the lady's chamber window. Then camea minuet to prepare her ear for the "deploring dump" which followed, the "dump" of Shakespeare's day, like the "dumka" of ours (with whichI am tempted to associate it etymologically), being a mournful pieceof music most happily characterized by the poet as a "sweetcomplaining grievance. " Then followed another piece in merry tempo andrhythm, then a second _adagio_, and the entertainment ended with an_allegro_, generally in march rhythm, to which we fancy the musiciansdeparting. The order is exemplified in Beethoven's serenade forviolin, viola, and violoncello, op. 8, which runs thus: _March_;_Adagio_; _Minuet_; _Adagio_ with episodic _Scherzo_; _Polacca_;_Andante_ (variations), the opening march repeated. 

[Sidenote: _The Orchestral Suite. _]

[Sidenote: _Ballet music. _]

The Suite has come back into favor as an orchestral piece, but theterm no longer has the fixed significance which once it had. It is nowapplied to almost any group of short pieces, pleasantly contrasted inrhythm, tempo, and mood, each complete in itself yet disclosing anæsthetic relationship with its fellows. Sometimes old dance forms areused, and sometimes new, such as the polonaise and the waltz. Theballet music, which fills so welcome a place in popular programmes, may be looked upon as such a suite, and the rhythm of the music andthe orchestral coloring in them are frequently those peculiar to thedances of the countries in which the story of the opera or drama forwhich the music was written plays. The ballets therefore afford anexcellent opportunity for the study of local color. Thus the balletmusic from Massenet's "Cid" is Spanish, from Rubinstein's "Feramors"Oriental, from "Aïda" Egyptian--Oriental rhythms and colorings beingthose most easily copied by composers. 

[Sidenote: _Operatic excerpts. _]

[Sidenote: _Gluck and Vestris. _]

The other operatic excerpts common to concerts of both classes areeither between-acts music, fantasias on operatic airs, or, in the caseof Wagner's contributions, portions of his dramas which are sopredominantly instrumental that it has been found feasible toincorporate the vocal part with the orchestral. In ballet music fromthe operas of the last century, some of which has been preserved tothe modern concert-room, local color must not be sought. Gluck'sGreeks, like Shakespeare's, danced to the rhythms of the seventeenthcentury. Vestris, whom the people of his time called "The god of thedance, " once complained to Gluck that his "Iphigénie en Aulide" didnot end with a chaconne, as was the rule. "A chaconne!" cried Gluck;"when did the Greeks ever dance a chaconne?" "Didn't they? Didn'tthey?" answered Vestris; "so much the worse for the Greeks. " Thereensued a quarrel. Gluck became incensed, withdrew the opera which wasabout to be produced, and would have left Paris had not MarieAntoinette come to the rescue. But Vestris got his chaconne. 

VI

_At a Pianoforte Recital_

[Sidenote: _Mr. Paderewski's concerts. _]

No clearer illustration of the magical power which lies in music, nomore convincing proof of the puissant fascination which a musicalartist can exert, no greater demonstration of the capabilities of aninstrument of music can be imagined than was afforded by thepianoforte recitals which Mr. Paderewski gave in the United Statesduring the season of 1895-96. More than threescore times in the courseof five months, in the principal cities of this country, did thiswonderful man seat himself in the presence of audiences, whose numbersran into the thousands, and were limited only by the seating capacityof the rooms in which they gathered, and hold them spellbound from twoto three hours by the eloquence of his playing. Each time the peoplecame in a gladsome frame of mind, stimulated by the recollection ofprevious delights or eager expectation. Each time they sat listeningto the music as if it were an evangel on which hung everlastingthings. Each time there was the same growth in enthusiasm which beganin decorous applause and ended in cheers and shouts as the artist cameback after the performance of a herculean task, and added piece afterpiece to a programme which had been laid down on generous lines fromthe beginning. The careless saw the spectacle with simple amazement, but for the judicious it had a wondrous interest. 

[Sidenote: _Pianoforte recitals. _]

[Sidenote: _The pianoforte's underlying principles. _]

I am not now concerned with Mr. Paderewski beyond invoking his aid inbringing into court a form of entertainment which, in his hands, hasproved to be more attractive to the multitude than symphony, oratorio, and even opera. What a world of speculation and curious inquiry doessuch a recital invite one into, beginning with the instrument whichwas the medium of communication between the artist and his hearers!To follow the progressive development of the mechanical principlesunderlying the pianoforte, one would be obliged to begin beyond theveil which separates history from tradition, for the first of themfinds its earliest exemplification in the bow twanged by the primitivesavage. Since a recognition of these principles may help to anunderstanding of the art of pianoforte playing, I enumerate them now. They are:

1. A stretched string as a medium of tone production. 

2. A key-board as an agency for manipulating the strings. 

3. A blow as the means of exciting the strings to vibratory action, bywhich the tone is produced. 

[Sidenote: _Their Genesis. _]

[Sidenote: _Significance of the pianoforte. _]

Many interesting glimpses of the human mind and heart might we have inthe course of the promenade through the ancient, mediæval, and modernworlds which would be necessary to disclose the origin and growth ofthese three principles, but these we must forego, since we are tostudy the music of the instrument, not its history. Let the knowledgesuffice that the fundamental principle of the pianoforte is as old asmusic itself, and that scientific learning, inventive ingenuity, andmechanical skill, tributary always to the genius of the art, haveworked together for centuries to apply this principle, until theinstrument which embodies it in its highest potency is become averitable microcosm of music. It is the visible sign of culture inevery gentle household; the indispensable companion of the composerand teacher; the intermediary between all the various branches ofmusic. Into the study of the orchestral conductor it brings atranslation of all the multitudinous voices of the band; to thechoir-master it represents the chorus of singers in the church-loft oron the concert-platform; with its aid the opera director fills hisimagination with the people, passions, and pageantry of the lyricdrama long before the singers have received their parts, or thecostumer, stage manager, and scene-painter have begun their work. Itis the only medium through which the musician in his study cancommune with the whole world of music and all its heroes; and thoughit may fail to inspire somewhat of that sympathetic nearness which onefeels toward the violin as it nestles under the chin and throbssynchronously with the player's emotions, or those wind instrumentsinto which the player breathes his own breath as the breath of life, it surpasses all its rivals, save the organ, in its capacity forpublishing the grand harmonies of the masters, for uttering their"sevenfold chorus of hallelujahs and harping symphonies. "

[Sidenote: _Defects of the pianoforte. _]

[Sidenote: _Lack of sustaining power. _]

This is one side of the picture and serves to show why the pianoforteis the most universal, useful, and necessary of all musicalinstruments. The other side shows its deficiencies, which must also beknown if one is to appreciate rightly the many things he is calledupon to note while listening intelligently to pianoforte music. Despite all the skill, learning, and ingenuity which have been spenton its perfection, the pianoforte can be made only feebly toapproximate that sustained style of musical utterance which is thesoul of melody, and finds its loftiest exemplification in singing. Togive out a melody perfectly, presupposes the capacity to sustain toneswithout loss in power or quality, to bind them together at will, andsometimes to intensify their dynamic or expressive force while theysound. The tone of the pianoforte, being produced by a blow, begins todie the moment it is created. The history of the instrument'smechanism, and also of its technical manipulation, is the history ofan effort to reduce this shortcoming to a minimum. It has alwaysconditioned the character of the music composed for the instrument, and if we were not in danger of being led into too wide an excursion, it would be profitable to trace the parallelism which is disclosed bythe mechanical evolution of the instrument, and the technical andspiritual evolution of the music composed for it. A few points will betouched upon presently, when the intellectual activity invited by arecital is brought under consideration. 

[Sidenote: _The percussive element. _]

[Sidenote: _Melody with drum-beats. _]

[Sidenote: _Rhythmical accentuation. _]

[Sidenote: _A universal substitute. _]

It is to be noted, further, that by a beautiful application of thedoctrine of compensations, the factor which limits the capacity ofthe pianoforte as a melody instrument endows it with a merit which noother instrument has in the same degree, except the instruments ofpercussion, which, despite their usefulness, stand on the border linebetween savage and civilized music. It is from its relationship to thedrum that the pianoforte derives a peculiarity quite unique in themelodic and harmonic family. Rhythm is, after all, the starting-pointof music. More than melody, more than harmony, it stirs the blood ofthe savage, and since the most vital forces within man are those whichdate back to his primitive state, so the sense of rhythm is the mostuniversal of the musical senses among even the most cultured ofpeoples to-day. By themselves the drums, triangles, and cymbals of anorchestra represent music but one remove from noise; but everybodyknows how marvellously they can be utilized to glorify a climax. Now, in a very refined degree, every melody on the pianoforte, be it playedas delicately as it may, is a melody with drum-beats. Manufacturershave done much toward eliminating the thump of the hammers against thestrings, and familiarity with the tone of the instrument has closedour ears against it to a great extent as something intrusive, but theblow which excites the string to vibration, and thus generates sound, is yet a vital factor in determining the character of pianofortemusic. The recurrent pulsations, now energetic, incisive, resolute, now gentle and caressing, infuse life into the melody, and byemphasizing its rhythmical structure (without unduly exaggerating it), present the form of the melody in much sharper outline than ispossible on any other instrument, and much more than one would expectin view of the evanescent character of the pianoforte's tone. It isthis quality, combined with the mechanism which places all thegradations of tone, from loudest to softest, at the easy andinstantaneous command of the player, which, I fancy, makes thepianoforte, in an astonishing degree, a substitute for all the otherinstruments. Each instrument in the orchestra has an idiom, whichsounds incomprehensible when uttered by some other of its fellows, butthey can all be translated, with more or less success, into thelanguage of the pianoforte--not the quality of the tone, though eventhat can be suggested, but the character of the phrase. The pianofortecan sentimentalize like the flute, make a martial proclamation likethe trumpet, intone a prayer like the churchly trombone. 

[Sidenote: _The instrument's mechanism. _]

[Sidenote: _Tone formation and production. _]

In the intricacy of its mechanism the pianoforte stands next to theorgan. The farther removed from direct utterance we are the moredifficult is it to speak the true language of music. The violin playerand the singer, and in a less degree the performers upon some of thewind instruments, are obliged to form the musical tone--which, in thecase of the pianist, is latent in the instrument, ready to presentitself in two of its attributes in answer to a simple pressure uponthe key. The most unmusical person in the world can learn to produce aseries of tones from a pianoforte which shall be as exact in pitch andas varied in dynamic force as can Mr. Paderewski. He cannot combinethem so ingeniously nor imbue them with feeling, but in the simplematter of producing the tone with the attributes mentioned, he is on alevel with the greatest virtuoso. Very different is the case of themusician who must exercise a distinctly musical gift in the simpleevocation of the materials of music, like the violinist and singer, who both form and produce the tone. For them compensation flows fromthe circumstance that the tone thus formed and produced is naturallyinstinct with emotional life in a degree that the pianoforte toneknows nothing of. 

[Sidenote: _Technical manipulation. _]

[Sidenote: _Touch and emotionality. _]

In one respect, it may be said that the mechanics of pianoforteplaying represent a low plane of artistic activity, a fact which oughtalways to be remembered whenever the temptation is felt greatly toexalt the technique of the art; but it must also be borne in mind thatthe mechanical nature of simple tone production in pianoforte playingraises the value of the emotional quality which, nevertheless, standsat the command of the player. The emotional potency of the tone mustcome from the manner in which the blow is given to the string. Recognition of this fact has stimulated reflection, and this in turnhas discovered methods by which temperament and emotionality may bemade to express themselves as freely, convincingly, and spontaneouslyin pianoforte as in violin playing. If this were not so it would beimpossible to explain the difference in the charm exerted by differentvirtuosi, for it has frequently happened that the best-equippedmechanician and the most intellectual player has been judged inferioras an artist to another whose gifts were of the soul rather than ofthe brains and fingers. 

[Sidenote: _The technical cult. _]

[Sidenote: _A low form of art. _]

The feats accomplished by a pianoforte virtuoso in the mechanicaldepartment are of so extraordinary a nature that there need be smallwonder at the wide prevalence of a distinctly technical cult. All whoknow the real nature and mission of music must condemn such a cult. Itis a sign of a want of true appreciation to admire technique fortechnique's sake. It is a mistaking of the outward shell for thekernel, a means for the end. There are still many players who aim tosecure this admiration, either because they are deficient in realmusical feeling, or because they believe themselves surer of winningapplause by thus appealing to the lowest form of appreciation. In theearly part of the century they would have been handicapped by theinstrument which lent itself to delicacy, clearness, and gracefulnessof expression, but had little power. Now the pianoforte has become athing of rigid steel, enduring tons of strain from its strings, andhaving a voice like the roar of many waters; to keep pace with itplayers have become athletes with

 "Thews of Anakim And pulses of a Titan's heart. "

[Sidenote: _Technical skill a matter of course. _]

They care no more for the "murmurs made to bless, " unless it beoccasionally for the sake of contrast, but seek to astound, amaze, bewilder, and confound with feats of skill and endurance. That withtheir devotion to the purely mechanical side of the art they arethreatening to destroy pianoforte playing gives them no pausewhatever. The era which they illustrate and adorn is the technical erawhich was, is, and ever shall be, the era of decay in artisticproduction. For the judicious technique alone, be it never somarvellous, cannot serve to-day. Its possession is accepted as acondition precedent in the case of everyone who ventures to appearupon the concert-platform. He must be a wonder, indeed, who candisturb our critical equilibrium by mere digital feats. We wantstrength and velocity of finger to be coupled with strength, velocity, and penetration of thought. We want no halting or lisping in theproclamation of what the composer has said, but we want the contentsof his thought, not the hollow shell, no matter how distinctly itsoutlines be drawn. 

[Sidenote: _The plan of study in this chapter. _]

[Sidenote: _A typical scheme of pieces. _]

The factors which present themselves for consideration at a pianoforterecital--mechanical, intellectual, and emotional--can be mostintelligently and profitably studied along with the development of theinstrument and its music. All branches of the study are invited bythe typical recital programme. The essentially romantic trend of Mr. Paderewski's nature makes his excursions into the classical field fewand short; and it is only when a pianist undertakes to emulateRubinstein in his historical recitals that the entire pre-Beethovenvista is opened up. It will suffice for the purposes of thisdiscussion to imagine a programme containing pieces by Bach, D. Scarlatti, Handel, and Mozart in one group; a sonata by Beethoven;some of the shorter pieces of Schumann and Chopin, and one of thetranscriptions or rhapsodies of Liszt. 

[Sidenote: _Periods in pianoforte music. _]

Such a scheme falls naturally into four divisions, plainlydifferentiated from each other in respect of the style of compositionand the manner of performance, both determined by the nature of theinstrument employed and the status of the musical idea. Simply for thesake of convenience let the period represented by the first group becalled the classic; the second the classic-romantic; the third theromantic, and the last the bravura. I beg the reader, however, not toextend these designations beyond the boundaries of the present study;they have been chosen arbitrarily, and confusion might result if theattempt were made to apply them to any particular concert scheme. Ihave chosen the composers because of their broadly representativecapacity. And they must stand for a numerous _epigonoi_ whose namesmake up our concert lists: say, Couperin, Rameau, and Haydn in thefirst group; Schubert in the second; Mendelssohn and Rubinstein in thethird. It would not be respectful to the memory of Liszt were I togive him the associates with whom in my opinion he stands; that mattermay be held in abeyance. 

[Sidenote: _Predecessors of the pianoforte. _]

[Sidenote: _The Clavichord. _]

[Sidenote: _"Bebung. "_]

The instruments for which the first group of writers down to Haydn andMozart wrote, were the immediate precursors of the pianoforte--theclavichord, spinet, or virginal, and harpsichord. The last was theconcert instrument, and stood in the same relationship to the othersthat the grand pianoforte of to-day stands to the upright and square. The clavichord was generally the medium for the composer's privatecommunings with his muse, because of its superiority over its fellowsin expressive power; but it gave forth only a tiny tinkle and wasincapable of stirring effects beyond those which sprang from pureemotionality. The tone was produced by a blow against the string, delivered by a bit of brass set in the farther end of the key. Theaction was that of a direct lever, and the bit of brass, which wascalled the tangent, also acted as a bridge and measured off thesegment of string whose vibration produced the desired tone. It wastherefore necessary to keep the key pressed down so long as it wasdesired that the tone should sound, a fact which must be kept in mindif one would understand the shortcomings as well as the advantages ofthe instrument compared with the spinet or harpsichord. It alsofurnishes one explanation of the greater lyricism of Bach's musiccompared with that of his contemporaries. By gently rocking the handwhile the key was down, a tremulous motion could be communicated tothe string, which not only prolonged the tone appreciably but gave itan expressive effect somewhat analogous to the vibrato of a violinist. The Germans called this effect _Bebung_, the French _Balancement_, andit was indicated by a row of dots under a short slur written over thenote. It is to the special fondness which Bach felt for the clavichordthat we owe, to a great extent, the cantabile style of his music, itsmany-voicedness and its high emotionality. 

[Sidenote: _Quilled instruments. _]

[Sidenote: _Tone of the harpsichord and spinet. _]

[Sidenote: _Bach's "Music of the future. "_]

The spinet, virginal, and harpsichord were quilled instruments, thetone of which was produced by snapping the strings by means of plectramade of quill, or some other flexible substance, set in the upper endof a bit of wood called the jack, which rested on the farther end ofthe key and moved through a slot in the sounding-board. When the keywas pressed down, the jack moved upward past the string which wascaught and twanged by the plectrum. The blow of the clavichord tangentcould be graduated like that of the pianoforte hammer, but the quillsof the other instruments always plucked the strings with the sameforce, so that mechanical devices, such as a swell-box, similar inprinciple to that of the organ, coupling in octaves, doubling thestrings, etc. , had to be resorted to for variety of dynamic effects. The character of tone thus produced determined the character of themusic composed for these instruments to a great extent. The brevity ofthe sound made sustained melodies ineffective, and encouraged the useof a great variety of embellishments and the spreading out ofharmonies in the form of arpeggios. It is obvious enough that Bach, being one of those monumental geniuses that cast their prescientvision far into the future, refused to be bound by such mechanicallimitations. Though he wrote _Clavier_, he thought organ, which washis true interpretative medium, and so it happens that the greatestsonority and the broadest style that have been developed in thepianoforte do not exhaust the contents of such a composition as the"Chromatic Fantasia and Fugue. "

[Sidenote: _Scarlatti's sonatas. _]

The earliest music written for these instruments--music which doesnot enter into this study--was but one remove from vocal music. Itcame through compositions written for the organ. Of Scarlatti's musicthe pieces most familiar are a Capriccio and Pastorale which Tausigrewrote for the pianoforte. They were called sonatas by theircomposer, but are not sonatas in the modern sense. Sonata means"sound-piece, " and when the term came into music it signified onlythat the composition to which it was applied was written forinstruments instead of voices. Scarlatti did a great deal to developthe technique of the harpsichord and the style of composing for it. His sonatas consist each of a single movement only, but in theirstructure they foreshadow the modern sonata form in having twocontrasted themes, which are presented in a fixed key-relationship. They are frequently full of grace and animation, but are as purelyobjective, formal, and soulless in their content as the otherinstrumental compositions of the epoch to which they belong. 

[Sidenote: _The suite. _]

[Sidenote: _Its history and form. _]

[Sidenote: _The bond between the movements. _]

The most significant of the compositions of this period are theSuites, which because they make up so large a percentage of _Clavier_literature (using the term to cover the pianoforte and itspredecessors), and because they pointed the way to the distinguishingform of the subsequent period, the sonata, are deserving of moreextended consideration. The suite is a set of pieces in the same key, but contrasted in character, based upon certain admired dance-forms. Originally it was a set of dances and nothing more, but in the handsof the composers the dances underwent many modifications, some of themto the obvious detriment of their national or other distinguishingcharacteristics. The suite came into fashion about the middle of theseventeenth century and was also called _Sonata da Camera_ and_Balletto_ in Italy, and, later, _Partita_ in France. In itsfundamental form it embraced four movements: I. Allemande. II. Courante. III. Sarabande. IV. Gigue. To these four were sometimesadded other dances--the Gavotte, Passepied, Branle, Minuet, Bourrée, etc. --but the rule was that they should be introduced between theSarabande and the Gigue. Sometimes also the set was introduced by aPrelude or an Overture. Identity of key was the only external tiebetween the various members of the suite, but the composers sought toestablish an artistic unity by elaborating the sentiments for whichthe dance-forms seemed to offer a vehicle, and presenting them inagreeable contrast, besides enriching the primitive structure with newmaterial. The suites of Bach and Handel are the high-water mark inthis style of composition, but it would be difficult to find theoriginal characteristics of the dances in their settings. It mustsuffice us briefly to indicate the characteristics of the principalforms. 

[Sidenote: _The Allemande. _]

The Allemande, as its name indicates, was a dance of supposedly Germanorigin. For that reason the German composers, when it came to themfrom France, where the suite had its origin, treated it with greatpartiality. It is in moderate tempo, common time, and made up of twoperiods of eight measures, both of which are repeated. It begins withan upbeat, and its metre, to use the terms of prosody, is iambic. Thefollowing specimen from Mersenne's "Harmonie Universelle, " 1636, welldisplays its characteristics:

[Music illustration]

[Sidenote: _Iambics in music and poetry. _]

Robert Burns's familiar iambics, "Ye flowery banks o' bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae fu' o' care!"

might serve to keep the rhythmical characteristics of the Allemande inmind were it not for the arbitrary changes made by the composersalready hinted at. As it is, we frequently find the stately movementof the old dance broken up into elaborate, but always quietlyflowing, ornamentation, as indicated in the following excerpt from thethird of Bach's English suites:

[Music illustration]

[Sidenote: _The Courante. _]

The Courante, or Corrente ("Teach lavoltas high and swift corantos, "says Shakespeare), is a French dance which was extremely popular inthe sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries--a polite dance, like the minuet. It was in triple time, and its movement was brightand brisk, a merry energy being imparted to the measure by theprevailing figure, a dotted quarter-note, an eighth, and a quarter ina measure, as illustrated in the following excerpt also from Mersenne:

[Music illustration]

The suite composers varied the movement greatly, however, and theItalian Corrente consists chiefly of rapid running passages. 

[Sidenote: _The Sarabande. _]

The Sarabande was also in triple time, but its movement was slow andstately. In Spain, whence it was derived, it was sung to theaccompaniment of castanets, a fact which in itself suffices toindicate that it was originally of a lively character, and took on itssolemnity in the hands of the later composers. Handel found theSarabande a peculiarly admirable vehicle for his inspirations, and oneof the finest examples extant figures in the triumphal music of his"Almira, " composed in 1704:

[Sidenote: _A Sarabande by Handel. _]

[Music illustration]

Seven years after the production of "Almira, " Handel recurred to thisbeautiful instrumental piece, and out of it constructed the exquisitelament beginning "_Lascia ch'io pianga_" in his opera "Rinaldo. "

[Sidenote: _The Gigue. _]

[Sidenote: _The Minuet. _]

[Sidenote: _The Gavotte. _]

Great Britain's contribution to the Suite was the final Gigue, whichis our jolly and familiar friend the jig, and in all probability isKeltic in origin. It is, as everybody knows, a rollicking measure in6-8, 12-8, or 4-4 time, with twelve triplet quavers in a measure, andneeds no description. It remained a favorite with composers until farinto the eighteenth century. Shakespeare proclaims its exuberantlustiness when he makes _Sir Toby Belch_ protest that had he _SirAndrew's_ gifts his "very walk should be a jig. " Of the other dancesincorporated into the suite, two are deserving of special mentionbecause of their influence on the music of to-day--the Minuet, whichis the parent of the symphonic scherzo, and the Gavotte, whosefascinating movement is frequently heard in latter-day operettas. TheMinuet is a French dance, and came from Poitou. Louis XIV. Danced itto Lully's music for the first time at Versailles in 1653, and it soonbecame the most popular of court and society dances, holding its owndown to the beginning of the nineteenth century. It was long calledthe Queen of Dances, and there is no one who has grieved to see thedeparture of gallantry and grace from our ball-rooms but will wish tosee Her Gracious Majesty restored to her throne. The music of theminuet is in 3-4 time, and of stately movement. The Gavotte is alively dance-measure in common time, beginning, as a rule, on thethird beat. Its origin has been traced to the mountain people of theDauphiné called Gavots--whence its name. 

[Sidenote: _Technique of the Clavier players. _]

[Sidenote: _Change in technique. _]

The transferrence of this music to the modern pianoforte has effecteda vast change in the manner of its performance. In the period underconsideration emotionality, which is considered the loftiest attributeof pianoforte playing to-day, was lacking, except in the case of suchmasters of the clavichord as the great Bach and his son, Carl PhilippEmanuel, who inherited his father's preference for that instrumentover the harpsichord and pianoforte. Tastefulness in the giving out ofthe melody, distinctness of enunciation, correctness of phrasing, nimbleness and lightness of finger, summed up practically all thatthere was in virtuosoship. Intellectuality and digital skill were theessential factors. Beauty of tone through which feeling andtemperament speak now was the product of the maker of the instrument, except again in the case of the clavichord, in which it may have beenlargely the creation of the player. It is, therefore, not surprisingthat the first revolution in technique of which we hear wasaccomplished by Bach, who, the better to bring out the characteristicsof his polyphonic style, made use of the thumb, till then consideredalmost a useless member of the hand in playing, and bent his fingers, so that their movements might be more unconstrained. 

[Sidenote: _Bach's touch. _]

[Sidenote: _Handel's playing. _]

[Sidenote: _Scarlatti's style. _]

Of the varieties of touch, which play such a rôle in pianofortepedagogics to-day, nothing was known. Only on the clavichord was ablow delivered directly against the string, and, as has already beensaid, only on that instrument was the dynamic shading regulated by thetouch. Practically, the same touch was used on the organ and thestringed instruments with key-board. When we find written praise ofthe old players it always goes to the fluency and lightness of theirfingering. Handel was greatly esteemed as a harpsichord player, andseems to have invented a position of the hand like Bach's, or to havecopied it from that master. Forkel tells us the movement of Bach'sfingers was so slight as to be scarcely noticeable; the position ofhis hands remained unchanged throughout, and the rest of his bodymotionless. Speaking of Handel's harpsichord playing, Burney says thathis fingers "seemed to grow to the keys. They were so curved andcompact when he played that no motion, and scarcely the fingersthemselves, could be discovered. " Scarlatti's significance lieschiefly in an extension of the technique of his time so as to givegreater individuality to the instrument. He indulged freely inbrilliant passages and figures which sometimes call for a crossing ofthe hands, also in leaps of over an octave, repetition of a note bydifferent fingers, broken chords in contrary motion, and other deviceswhich prefigure modern pianoforte music. 

[Sidenote: _The sonata. _]

That Scarlatti also pointed the way to the modern sonata, I havealready said. The history of the sonata, as the term is nowunderstood, ends with Beethoven. Many sonatas have been written sincethe last one of that great master, but not a word has been added tohis proclamation. He stands, therefore, as a perfect exemplar of thesecond period in the scheme which we have adopted for the study ofpianoforte music and playing. In a general way a sonata may bedescribed as a composition of four movements, contrasted in mood, tempo, sentiment, and character, but connected by that spiritual bondof which mention was made in our study of the symphony. In short, asonata is a symphony for a solo instrument. 

[Sidenote: _Haydn. _]

When it came into being it was little else than a convenient formulafor the expression of musical beauty. Haydn, who perfected it on itsformal side, left it that and nothing more. Mozart poured the vesselfull of beauty, but Beethoven breathed the breath of a new life intoit. An old writer tells us of Haydn that he was wont to say that thewhole art of composing consisted in taking up a subject and pursuingit. Having invented his theme, he would begin by choosing the keysthrough which he wished to make it pass. 

 "His exquisite feeling gave him a perfect knowledge of the greater or less degree of effect which one chord produces in succeeding another, and he afterward imagined a little romance which might furnish him with sentiments and colors. "

[Sidenote: _Beethoven. _]

[Sidenote: _Mozart's manner of playing. _]

Beethoven began with the sentiment and worked from it outwardly, modifying the form when it became necessary to do so, in order toobtain complete and perfect utterance. He made spirit rise superior tomatter. This must be borne in mind when comparing the technique of theprevious period with that of which I have made Beethoven therepresentative. In the little that we are privileged to read ofMozart's style of playing, we see only a reflex of the players whowent before him, saving as it was permeated by the warmth which wentout from his own genial personality. His manipulation of the keys hadthe quietness and smoothness that were praised in Bach and Handel. 

 "Delicacy and taste, " says Kullak, "with his lifting of the entire technique to the spiritual aspiration of the idea, elevate him as a virtuoso to a height unanimously conceded by the public, by connoisseurs, and by artists capable of judging. Clementi declared that he had never heard any one play so soulfully and charmfully as Mozart; Dittersdorf finds art and taste combined in his playing; Haydn asseverated with tears that Mozart's playing he could never forget, for it touched the heart. His staccato is said to have possessed a peculiarly brilliant charm. "

[Sidenote: _Clementi. _]

[Sidenote: _Beethoven as a pianist. _]

The period of C. P. E. Bach, Haydn, and Mozart is that in which thepianoforte gradually replaced its predecessors, and the first realpianist was Mozart's contemporary and rival, Muzio Clementi. His chiefsignificance lies in his influence as a technician, for he opened theway to the modern style of play with its greater sonority and capacityfor expression. Under him passage playing became an entirely newthing; deftness, lightness, and fluency were replaced by stupendousvirtuosoship, which rested, nevertheless, on a full and solid tone. Heis said to have been able to trill in octaves with one hand. He wasnecessary for the adequate interpretation of Beethoven, whose music islikely to be best understood by those who know that he, too, was asuperb pianoforte player, fully up to the requirements which his lastsonatas make upon technical skill as well as intellectual andemotional gifts. 

[Sidenote: _Beethoven's technique. _]

[Sidenote: _Expression supreme. _]

Czerny, who was a pupil of Beethoven, has preserved a fuller accountof that great composer's art as a player than we have of any of hispredecessors. He describes his technique as tremendous, better thanthat of any virtuoso of his day. He was remarkably deft in connectingthe full chords, in which he delighted, without the use of the pedal. His manner at the instrument was composed and quiet. He sat erect, without movement of the upper body, and only when his deafnesscompelled him to do so, in order to hear his own music, did hecontract a habit of leaning forward. With an evident appreciation ofthe necessities of old-time music he had a great admiration for cleanfingering, especially in fugue playing, and he objected to the use ofCramer's studies in the instruction of his nephew by Czerny becausethey led to what he called a "sticky" style of play, and failed tobring out crisp staccatos and a light touch. But it was uponexpression that he insisted most of all when he taught. 

[Sidenote: _Music and emotion. _]

More than anyone else it was Beethoven who brought music back to thepurpose which it had in its first rude state, when it sprangunvolitionally from the heart and lips of primitive man. It becameagain a vehicle for the feelings. As such it was accepted by theromantic composers to whom he belongs as father, seer, and prophet, quite as intimately as he belongs to the classicists by reason of hisadherence to form as an essential in music. To his contemporaries heappears as an image-breaker, but to the clearer vision of to-day hestands an unshakable barrier to lawless iconoclasm. Says Sir GeorgeGrove, quoting Mr. Edward Dannreuther, in the passages within theinverted commas:

[Sidenote: _Beethoven a Romanticist. _]

 "That he was no wild radical altering for the mere pleasure of alteration, or in the mere search for originality, is evident from the length of time during which he abstained from publishing, or even composing works of pretension, and from the likeness which his early works possess to those of his predecessors. He began naturally with the forms which were in use in his days, and his alteration of them grew very gradually with the necessities of his expression. The form of the sonata is 'the transparent veil through which Beethoven seems to have looked at all music. ' And the good points of that form he retained to the last--the 'triune symmetry of exposition, illustration, and repetition, ' which that admirable method allowed and enforced--but he permitted himself a much greater liberty than his predecessors had done in the relationship of the keys of the different movements, and parts of movements, and in the proportion of the clauses and sections with which he built them up. In other words, he was less bound by the forms and musical rules, and more swayed by the thought which he had to express, and the directions which that thought took in his mind. "

[Sidenote: _Schumann and Chopin. _]

It is scarcely to be wondered at that when men like Schumann andChopin felt the full force of the new evangel which Beethoven hadpreached, they proceeded to carry the formal side of poeticexpression, its vehicle, into regions unthought of before their time. The few old forms had now to give way to a large variety. In theirwork they proceeded from points that were far apart--Schumann's wasliterary, Chopin's political. In one respect the lists of their pieceswhich appear most frequently on recital programmes seem to hark backto the suites of two centuries ago--they are sets of shortcompositions grouped, either by the composer (as is the case withSchumann) or by the performer (as is the case with Chopin in the handsof Mr. Paderewski). Such fantastic musical miniatures as Schumann's"Carnaval" and "Papillons" are eminently characteristic of thecomposer's intellectual and emotional nature, which in his universitydays had fallen under the spell of literary romanticism. 

[Sidenote: _Jean Paul's influence. _]

[Sidenote: _Schumann's inspirations. _]

While ostensibly studying jurisprudence at Heidelberg, Schumanndevoted seven hours a day to the pianoforte and several to Jean Paul. It was this writer who moulded not only Schumann's literary style inhis early years, but also gave the bent which his creative activity inmusic took at the outset. To say little, but vaguely hint at much, wasthe rule which he adopted; to remain sententious in expression, butgive the freest and most daring flight to his imagination, and spurnthe conventional limitations set by rule and custom, his ambition. Such fanciful and symbolical titles as "Flower, Fruit, and ThornPieces, " "Titan, " etc. , which Jean Paul adopted for his singularmixtures of tale, rhapsody, philosophy, and satire, were bound to findan imitator in so ardent an apostle as young Schumann, and, therefore, we have such compositions as "Papillons, " "Carnaval, " "Kreisleriana, ""Phantasiestücke, " and the rest. Almost always, it may be said, thepieces which make them up were composed under the poetical andemotional impulses derived from literature, then grouped and named. Tounderstand their poetic contents this must be known. 

[Sidenote: _Chopin's music. _]

[Sidenote: _Preludes. _]

Chopin's fancy, on the other hand, found stimulation in the charmwhich, for him, lay in the tone of the pianoforte itself (to which headded a new loveliness by his manner of writing), as well as in therhythms of the popular dances of his country. These dances he not onlybeautified as the old suite writers beautified their forms, but heutilized them as vessels which he filled with feeling, not all ofwhich need be accepted as healthy, though much of it is. As to histitles, "Preludes" is purely an arbitrary designation forcompositions which are equally indefinite in form and character;Niecks compares them very aptly to a portfolio full of drawings "inall stages of advancement--finished and unfinished, complete andincomplete compositions, sketches and mere memoranda, all mixedindiscriminately together. " So, too, they appeared to Schumann: "Theyare sketches, commencements of studies, or, if you will, ruins, singleeagle-wings, all strangely mixed together. " Nevertheless some of themare marvellous soul-pictures. 

[Sidenote: _Études. _]

[Sidenote: _Nocturnes. _]

The "Études" are studies intended to develop the technique of thepianoforte in the line of the composer's discoveries, his method ofplaying extended arpeggios, contrasted rhythms, progressions in thirdsand octaves, etc. , but still they breathe poetry and sometimespassion. Nocturne is an arbitrary, but expressive, title for a shortcomposition of a dreamy, contemplative, or even elegiac, character. Inmany of his nocturnes Chopin is the adored sentimentalist ofboarding-school misses. There is poppy in them and seductive poisonfor which Niecks sensibly prescribes Bach and Beethoven as antidotes. The term ballad has been greatly abused in literature, and in music isintrinsically unmeaning. Chopin's four Ballades have one feature incommon--they are written in triple time; and they are among his finestinspirations. 

[Sidenote: _The Polonaise. _]

Chopin's dances are conventionalized, and do not all speak the idiomof the people who created their forms, but their originalcharacteristics ought to be known. The Polonaise was the stately danceof the Polish nobility, more a march or procession than a dance, fullof gravity and courtliness, with an imposing and majestic rhythm intriple time that tends to emphasize the second beat of the measure, frequently syncopating it and accentuating the second half of thefirst beat:

[Music illustration]

[Sidenote: _The Mazurka. _]

National color comes out more clearly in his Mazurkas. Unlike thePolonaise this was the dance of the common people, and even asconventionalized and poetically refined by Chopin there is still inthe Mazurka some of the rude vigor which lies in its propulsiverhythm:

[Music illustration] or [Music illustration]

[Sidenote: _The Krakowiak. _]

The Krakowiak (French _Cracovienne_, Mr. Paderewski has a fascinatingspecimen in his "Humoresques de Concert, " op. 14) is a popular danceindigenous to the district of Cracow, whence its name. Its rhythmicalelements are these:

[Music illustration] and [Music illustration]

[Sidenote: _Idiomatic music. _]

[Sidenote: _Content higher than idiom. _]

In the music of this period there is noticeable a careful attention onthe part of the composers to the peculiarities of the pianoforte. Nomusic, save perhaps that of Liszt, is so idiomatic. Frequently inBeethoven the content of the music seems too great for the medium ofexpression; we feel that the thought would have had better expressionhad the master used the orchestra instead of the pianoforte. We maywell pause a moment to observe the development of the instrument andits technique from then till now, but as condemnation has already beenpronounced against excessive admiration of technique for technique'ssake, so now I would first utter a warning against our appreciation ofthe newer charm. "Idiomatic of the pianoforte" is a good enough phraseand a useful, indeed, but there is danger that if abused it may bringsomething like discredit to the instrument. It would be a pity ifmusic, which contains the loftiest attributes of artistic beauty, should fail of appreciation simply because it had been observed thatthe pianoforte is not the most convenient, appropriate, or effectivevehicle for its publication--a pity for the pianoforte, for thereinwould lie an exemplification of its imperfection. So, too, it would bea pity if the opinion should gain ground that music which had beenclearly designed to meet the nature of the instrument was for thatreason good pianoforte music, _i. E. _, "idiomatic" music, irrespectiveof its content. 

[Sidenote: _Development of the pianoforte. _]

In Beethoven's day the pianoforte was still a feeble instrumentcompared with the grand of to-day. Its capacities were but beginningto be appreciated. Beethoven had to seek and invent effects which noware known to every amateur. The instrument which the Englishmanufacturer Broadwood presented to him in 1817 had a compass of sixoctaves, and was a whole octave wider in range than Mozart'spianoforte. In 1793 Clementi extended the key-board to five and a halfoctaves; six and a half octaves were reached in 1811, and seven in1851. Since 1851 three notes have been added without materialimprovement to the instrument. This extension of compass, however, isfar from being the most important improvement since the classicperiod. The growth in power, sonority, and tonal brilliancy has beenmuch more marked, and of it Liszt made striking use. 

[Sidenote: _The Pedals. _]

[Sidenote: _Shifting pedal. _]

[Sidenote: _Damper pedal. _]

Very significant, too, in their relation to the development of themusic, were the invention and improvement of the pedals. The shiftingpedal was invented by a Viennese maker named Stein, who first appliedit to an instrument which he named "Saiten-harmonika. " Before thensoft effects were obtained by interposing a bit of felt between thehammers and the strings, as may still be seen in old squarepianofortes. The shifting pedal, or soft pedal as it is popularlycalled, moves the key-board and action so that the hammer strikes onlyone or two of the unison strings, leaving the other to vibratesympathetically. Beethoven was the first to appreciate thepossibilities of this effect (see the slow movement of his concerto inG major and his last sonatas), but after him came Schumann and Chopin, and brought pedal manipulation to perfection, especially that of thedamper pedal. This is popularly called the loud pedal, and thevulgarest use to which it can be put is to multiply the volume oftone. It was Chopin who showed its capacity for sustaining a melodyand enriching the color effects by releasing the strings from thedampers and utilizing the ethereal sounds which rise from the stringswhen they vibrate sympathetically. 

[Sidenote: _Liszt. _]

[Sidenote: _A dual character. _]

It is no part of my purpose to indulge in criticism of composers, butsomething of the kind is made unavoidable by the position assigned toLiszt in our pianoforte recitals. He is relied upon to provide ascintillant close. The pianists, then, even those who are hisprofessed admirers, are responsible if he is set down in our scheme asthe exemplar of the technical cult. Technique having its unquestionedvalue, we are bound to admire the marvellous gifts which enabled Lisztpractically to sum up all the possibilities of pianoforte mechanism inits present stage of construction, but we need not look with unalloyedgratitude upon his influence as a composer. There were, I fear, twosides to Liszt's artistic character as well as his moral. I believe hehad in him a touch of charlatanism as well as a magnificent amount ofartistic sincerity--just as he blended a laxity of moral ideas with aprofound religious mysticism. It would have been strange indeed, growing up as he did in the whited sepulchre of Parisian salon life, if he had not accustomed himself to sacrifice a little of the soul ofart for the sake of vainglory, and a little of its poetry and feelingto make display of those dazzling digital feats which he invented. But, be it said to his honor, he never played mountebank tricks in thepresence of the masters whom he revered. It was when he approached themusic of Beethoven that he sank all thought of self and rose to apeerless height as an interpreting artist. 

[Sidenote: _Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsodies. _]

[Sidenote: _Gypsies and Magyars. _]

Liszt's place as a composer of original music has not yet beendetermined, but as a transcriber of the music of others the givers ofpianoforte recitals keep him always before us. The showy HungarianRhapsodies with which the majority of pianoforte recitals end are, however, more than mere transcriptions. They are constructed out ofthe folk-songs of the Magyars, and in their treatment the composer hasfrequently reproduced the characteristic performances which theyreceive at the hands of the Gypsies from whom he learned them. Thisfact and the belief to which Liszt gave currency in his book "DesBohémiens et de leur musique en Hongrie" have given rise to thealmost universal belief that the Magyar melodies are of Gypsy origin. This belief is erroneous. The Gypsies have for centuries been themusical practitioners of Hungary, but they are not the composers ofthe music of the Magyars, though they have put a marked impress notonly on the melodies, but also on popular taste. The Hungarianfolk-songs are a perfect reflex of the national character of theMagyars, and some have been traced back centuries in their literature. Though their most marked melodic peculiarity, the frequent use of aminor scale containing one or even two superfluous seconds, as thus:

[Sidenote: _Magyar scales. _]

[Music illustration]

may be said to belong to Oriental music as a whole (and the Magyarsare Orientals), the songs have a rhythmical peculiarity which is adirect product of the Magyar language. This peculiarity consists of afigure in which the emphasis is shifted from the strong to the weakpart by making the first take only a fraction of the time of thesecond, thus:

[Music illustration]

[Sidenote: _The Scotch snap. _]

[Sidenote: _Gypsy epics. _]

In Scottish music this rhythm also plays a prominent part, but thereit falls into the beginning of a measure, whereas in Hungarian itforms the middle or end. The result is an effect of syncopation whichis peculiarly forceful. There is an indubitable Oriental relic in theprofuse embellishments which the Gypsies weave around the Hungarianmelodies when playing them; but the fact that they thrust the sameembellishments upon Spanish and Russian music, in fact upon all themusic which they play, indicates plainly enough that the impulse to doso is native to them, and has nothing to do with the national taste ofthe countries for which they provide music. Liszt's confessed purposein writing the Hungarian Rhapsodies was to create what he called"Gypsy epics. " He had gathered a large number of the melodies withouta definite purpose, and was pondering what to do with them, when itoccurred to him that

 "These fragmentary, scattered melodies were the wandering, floating, nebulous part of a great whole, that they fully answered the conditions for the production of an harmonious unity which would comprehend the very flower of their essential properties, their most unique beauties, " and "might be united in one homogeneous body, a complete work, its divisions to be so arranged that each song would form at once a whole and a part, which might be severed from the rest and be examined and enjoyed by and for itself; but which would, none the less, belong to the whole through the close affinity of subject matter, the similarity of its inner nature and unity in development. "[D]

[Sidenote: _The Czardas. _]

The basis of Liszt's Rhapsodies being thus distinctively national, hehas in a manner imitated in their character and tempo the dualcharacter of the Hungarian national dance, the Czardas, which consistsof two movements, a _Lassu_, or slow movement, followed by a _Friss_. These alternate at the will of the dancer, who gives a sign to theband when he wishes to change from one to the other. 

FOOTNOTES:

[D] Weitzmann, "Geschichte des Clavierspiels, " p. 197. 

VII

_At the Opera_

[Sidenote: _Instability of taste. _]

[Sidenote: _The age of operas. _]

Popular taste in respect of the opera is curiously unstable. It issurprising that the canons of judgment touching it have such feebleand fleeting authority in view of the popularity of the art-form andthe despotic hold which it has had on fashion for two centuries. Noform of popular entertainment is acclaimed so enthusiastically as anew opera by an admired composer; none forgotten so quickly. For thespoken drama we go back to Shakespeare in the vernacular, and, onoccasions, we revive the masterpieces of the Attic poets whoflourished more than two millenniums ago; but for opera we are boundedby less than a century, unless occasional performances of Gluck's"Orfeo" and Mozart's "Figaro, " "Don Giovanni, " and "Magic Flute" becounted as submissions to popular demand, which, unhappily, we knowthey are not. There is no one who has attended the opera fortwenty-five years who might not bewail the loss of operas from thecurrent list which appealed to his younger fancy as works of realloveliness. In the season of 1895-96 the audiences at the MetropolitanOpera House in New York heard twenty-six different operas. The oldestwere Gluck's "Orfeo" and Beethoven's "Fidelio, " which had a singleexperimental representation each. After them in seniority cameDonizetti's "Lucia di Lammermoor, " which is sixty-one years old, andhas overpassed the average age of "immortal" operas by from ten totwenty years, assuming Dr. Hanslick's calculation to be correct. 

[Sidenote: _Decimation of the operatic list. _]

[Sidenote: _Dependence on singers. _]

The composers who wrote operas for the generation that witnessedAdelina Patti's _début_ at the Academy of Music, in New York, wereBellini, Donizetti, Verdi, and Meyerbeer. Thanks to his progressivegenius, Verdi is still alive on the stage, though nine-tenths of theoperas which made his fame and fortune have already sunk intooblivion; Meyerbeer, too, is still a more or less potent factor withhis "Huguenots, " which, like "Lucia, " has endured from ten to twentyyears longer than the average "immortal;" but the continued existenceof Bellini and Donizetti seems to be as closely bound up with that oftwo or three singers as was Meleager's life with the burning billetwhich his mother snatched from the flames. So far as the people ofLondon and New York are concerned whether or not they shall hearDonizetti more, rests with Mesdames Patti and Melba, for Donizettispells "Lucia;" Bellini pleads piteously in "Sonnambula, " but onlyMadame Nevada will play the mediator between him and our stiff-neckedgeneration. 

[Sidenote: _An unstable art-form. _]

[Sidenote: _Carelessness of the public. _]

[Sidenote: _Addison's criticism. _]

[Sidenote: _Indifference to the words. _]

Opera is a mixed art-form and has ever been, and perhaps must ever be, in a state of flux, subject to the changes of taste in music, thedrama, singing, acting, and even politics and morals; but in oneparticular the public has shown no change for a century and a half, and it is not quite clear why this has not given greater fixity topopular appreciation. The people of to-day are as blithelyindifferent to the fact that their operas are all presented in aforeign tongue as they were two centuries ago in England. Theinfluence of Wagner has done much to stimulate a serious attitudetoward the lyric drama, but this is seldom found outside of theaudiences in attendance on German representations. The devotees of theLatin exotic, whether it blend French or Italian (or both, as is therule in New York and London) with its melodic perfume, enjoy the musicand ignore the words with the same nonchalance that Addison made merryover. Addison proves to have been a poor prophet. Thegreat-grandchildren of his contemporaries are not at all curious toknow "why their forefathers used to sit together like an audience offoreigners in their own country, and to hear whole plays acted beforethem in a tongue which they did not understand. " What theirgreat-grandparents did was also done by their grandparents and theirparents, and may be done by their children, grandchildren, andgreat-grandchildren after them, unless Englishmen and Americans shalltake to heart the lessons which Wagner essayed to teach his ownpeople. For the present, though we have abolished many absurditieswhich grew out of a conception of opera that was based upon thesimple, sensuous delight which singing gave, the charm of music isstill supreme, and we can sit out an opera without giving a thought tothe words uttered by the singers. The popular attitude is fairlyrepresented by that of Boileau, when he went to hear "Atys" andrequested the box-keeper to put him in a place where he could hearLully's music, which he loved, but not Quinault's words, which hedespised. 

[Sidenote: _Past and present. _]

It is interesting to note that in this respect the condition ofaffairs in London in the early part of the eighteenth century, whichseemed so monstrously diverting to Addison, was like that in Hamburgin the latter part of the seventeenth, and in New York at the end ofthe nineteenth. There were three years in London when Italian andEnglish were mixed in the operatic representations. 

 "The king or hero of the play generally spoke in Italian and his slaves answered him in English; the lover frequently made his court and gained the heart of his princess in a language which she did not understand. "

[Sidenote: _Polyglot opera. _]

At length, says Addison, the audience got tired of understanding halfthe opera, "and to ease themselves entirely of the fatigue ofthinking, so ordered it that the whole opera was performed in anunknown tongue. "

[Sidenote: _Perversions of texts. _]

There is this difference, however, between New York and London andHamburg at the period referred to: while the operatic ragout wascompounded of Italian and English in London, Italian and German inHamburg, the ingredients here are Italian, French, and German, with noadmixture of the vernacular. Strictly speaking, our case is moredesperate than that of our foreign predecessors, for the developmentof the lyric drama has lifted its verbal and dramatic elements into aposition not dreamed of two hundred years ago. We might endure withequanimity to hear the chorus sing

[Sidenote: _"Robert le Diable. "_]

 "_La soupe aux choux se fait dans la marmite, Dans la marmite on fait la soupe aux choux_"

at the beginning of "Robert le Diable, " as tradition says used to bedone in Paris, but we surely ought to rise in rebellion when thechorus of guards change their muttered comments on Pizarro's furiousaria in "Fidelio" from

[Sidenote: _"Fidelio. "_]

 _"Er spricht von Tod und Wunde!"_

to

 _"Er spricht vom todten Hunde!"_

as is a prevalent custom among the irreverent choristers of Germany. 

Addison confesses that he was often afraid when seeing the Italianperformers "chattering in the vehemence of action, " that they werecalling the audience names and abusing them among themselves. I do notknow how to measure the morals and manners of our Italian singersagainst those of Addison's time, but I do know that many of the thingswhich they say before our very faces for their own diversion are notcomplimentary to our intelligence. I hope I have a proper respect forMr. Gilbert's "bashful young potato, " but I do not think it rightwhile we are sympathizing with the gentle passion of _Siebel_ to havehis representative bring an offering of flowers and, looking us fullin the face, sing:

 _"Le patate d'amor, O cari fior!"_

[Sidenote: _"Faust. "_]

[Sidenote: _Porpora's "Credo. "_]

It isn't respectful, and it enables the cynics of to-day to say, withthe poetasters and fiddlers of Addison's day, that nothing is capableof being well set to music that is not nonsense. Operatic words wereonce merely stalking-horses for tunes, but that day is past. We usedto smile at Brignoli's "_Ah si! ah si! ah si!_" which did service forany text in high passages; but if a composer should, for theaccommodation of his music, change the wording of the creed into"_Credo, non credo, non credo in unum Deum_, " as Porpora once did, weshould all cry out for his excommunication. 

As an art-form the opera has frequently been criticised as anabsurdity, and it is doubtless owing to such a conviction that manypeople are equally indifferent to the language employed and thesentiments embodied in the words. Even so serious a writer as GeorgeHogarth does not hesitate in his "Memoirs of the Opera" to defend thiscareless attitude. 

[Sidenote: _Are words unessential?_]

 "The words of an air are of small importance to the comprehension of the business of the piece, " he says; "they merely express a sentiment, a reflection, a feeling; it is quite enough if their general import is known, and this may most frequently be gathered from the situation, aided by the character and expression of the music. "

[Sidenote: _"Il Trovatore. "_]

I, myself, have known an ardent lover of music who resolutely refusedto look into a libretto because, being of a lively and imaginativetemperament, she preferred to construct her own plots and put her ownwords in the mouths of the singers. Though a constant attendant on theopera, she never knew what "Il Trovatore" was about, which, perhaps, is not so surprising after all. Doubtless the play which she hadfashioned in her own mind was more comprehensible than Verdi's medleyof burnt children and asthmatic dance rhythms. Madame de Staël went sofar as to condemn the German composers because they "follow tooclosely the sense of the words, " whereas the Italians, "who are trulythe musicians of nature, make the air and the words conform to eachother only in a general way. "

[Sidenote: _The opera defended as an art-form. _]

[Sidenote: _The classic tragedy. _]

Now the present generation has witnessed a revolution in operaticideas which has lifted the poetical elements upon a plane not dreamedof when opera was merely a concert in costume, and it is no longertolerable that it be set down as an absurdity. On the contrary, Ibelieve that, looked at in the light thrown upon it by the history ofthe drama and the origin of music, the opera is completely justifiedas an art-form, and, in its best estate, is an entirely reasonable andhighly effective entertainment. No mean place, surely, should be givenin the estimation of the judicious to an art-form which aims in anequal degree to charm the senses, stimulate the emotions, and persuadethe reason. This, the opera, or, perhaps I would better say the lyricdrama, can be made to do as efficiently as the Greek tragedy did it, so far as the differences between the civilizations of ancient Hellasand the nineteenth century will permit. The Greek tragedy was theoriginal opera, a fact which literary study would alone have madeplain even if it were not clearly of record that it was an effort torestore the ancient plays in their integrity that gave rise to theItalian opera three centuries ago. 

[Sidenote: _Genesis of the Greek plays. _]

Every school-boy knows now that the Hellenic plays were simply thefinal evolution of the dances with which the people of Hellascelebrated their religious festivals. At the rustic Bacchic feasts ofthe early Greeks they sang hymns in honor of the wine-god, and dancedon goat-skins filled with wine. He who held his footing best on thetreacherous surface carried home the wine as a reward. They contendedin athletic games and songs for a goat, and from this circumstancescholars have surmised we have the word tragedy, which means"goat-song. " The choric songs and dances grew in variety and beauty. Finally, somebody (tradition preserves the name of Thespis as the man)conceived the idea of introducing a simple dialogue between thestrophes of the choric song. Generally this dialogue took the form ofa recital of some story concerning the god whose festival wascelebrating. Then when the dithyrambic song returned, it would eithercontinue the narrative or comment on its ethical features. 

[Sidenote: _Mimicry and dress. _]

The merry-makers, or worshippers, as one chooses to look upon them, manifested their enthusiasm by imitating the appearance as well as theactions of the god and his votaries. They smeared themselves withwine-lees, colored their bodies black and red, put on masks, coveredthemselves with the skins of beasts, enacted the parts of nymphs, fauns, and satyrs, those creatures of primitive fancy, half men andhalf goats, who were the representatives of natural sensualityuntrammelled by conventionality. 

[Sidenote: _Melodrama. _]

Next, somebody (Archilocus) sought to heighten the effect of the storyor the dialogue by consorting it with instrumental music; and thus wefind the germ of what musicians--not newspaper writers--callmelodrama, in the very early stages of the drama's development. Gradually these simple rustic entertainments were taken in hand by thepoets who drew on the legendary stores of the people for subjects, branching out from the doings of gods to the doings of god-like men, the popular heroes, and developed out of them the masterpieces ofdramatic poetry which are still studied with amazement, admiration, and love. 

[Sidenote: _Factors in ancient tragedy. _]

The dramatic factors which have been mustered in this outline arethese:

1. The choric dance and song with a religious purpose. 

2. Recitation and dialogue. 

3. Characterization by means of imitative gestures--pantomime, thatis--and dress. 

4. Instrumental music to accompany the song and also the action. 

[Sidenote: _Operatic elements. _]

[Sidenote: _Words and music united. _]

All these have been retained in the modern opera, which may be said todiffer chiefly from its ancient model in the more important and moreindependent part which music plays in it. It will appear later in ourstudy that the importance and independence achieved by one of theelements consorted in a work by nature composite, led the way to arevolution having for its object a restoration of something like theancient drama. In this ancient drama and its precursor, thedithyrambic song and dance, is found a union of words and music whichscientific investigation proves to be not only entirely natural butinevitable. In a general way most people are in the habit of speakingof music as the language of the emotions. The elements which enterinto vocal music (of necessity the earliest form of music) areunvolitional products which we must conceive as co-existent with thebeginnings of human life. Do they then antedate articulate speech? Didman sing before he spoke? I shall not quarrel with anybody who choosesso to put it. 

[Sidenote: _Physiology of singing. _]

Think a moment about the mechanism of vocal music. Something occurs tostir up your emotional nature--a great joy, a great sorrow, a greatfear; instantly, involuntarily, in spite of your efforts to preventit, maybe, muscular actions set in which proclaim the emotion whichfills you. The muscles and organs of the chest, throat, and mouthcontract or relax in obedience to the emotion. You utter a cry, andaccording to the state of feeling which you are in, that cry haspitch, quality (_timbre_ the singing teachers call it), and dynamicintensity. You attempt to speak, and no matter what the words youutter, the emotional drama playing on the stage of your heart isdivulged. 

[Sidenote: _Herbert Spencer's laws. _]

The man of science observes the phenomenon and formulates its laws, saying, for instance, as Herbert Spencer has said: "All feelings aremuscular stimuli;" and, "Variations of voice are the physiologicalresults of variations of feeling. " It was the recognition of thisextraordinary intimacy between the voice and the emotions whichbrought music all the world over into the service of religion, andprovided the phenomenon, which we may still observe if we be butminded to do so, that mere tones have sometimes the sanctity of words, and must as little be changed as ancient hymns and prayers. 

[Sidenote: _Invention of Italian opera. _]

[Sidenote: _Musical declamation. _]

The end of the sixteenth century saw a coterie of scholars, art-lovers, and amateur musicians in Florence who desired tore-establish the relationship which they knew had once existed betweenmusic and the drama. The revival of learning had made the classictragedy dear to their hearts. They knew that in the olden timetragedy, of which the words only have come down to us, had beenmusical throughout. In their efforts to bring about an intimacybetween dramatic poetry and music they found that nothing could bedone with the polite music of their time. It was the period of highestdevelopment in ecclesiastical music, and the climax of artificiality. The professional musicians to whom they turned scorned their theoriesand would not help them; so they fell back on their own resources. They cut the Gordian knot and invented a new style of music, whichthey fancied was like that used by the ancients in their stage-plays. They abolished polyphony, or contrapuntal music, in everything excepttheir choruses, and created a sort of musical declamation, usingvariations of pitch and harmonies built up on a simple bass to giveemotional life to their words. In choosing their tones they wereguided by observation of the vocal inflections produced in speechunder stress of feeling, showing thus a recognition of the law whichHerbert Spencer formulated two hundred and fifty years later. 

[Sidenote: _The music of the Florentine reformers. _]

[Sidenote: _The solo style, harmony, and declamation. _]

[Sidenote: _Fluent recitatives. _]

The music which these men produced and admired sounds to us monotonousin the extreme, for what little melody there is in it is in thechoruses, which they failed to emancipate from the ecclesiastical art, and which for that reason were as stiff and inelastic as the musicwhich in their controversies with the musicians they condemned withvigor. Yet within their invention there lay an entirely new world ofmusic. Out of it came the solo style, a song with instrumentalaccompaniment of a kind unknown to the church composers. Out of it, too, came harmony as an independent factor in music instead of anaccident of the simultaneous flow of melodies; and out of it camedeclamation, which drew its life from the text. The recitatives whichthey wrote had the fluency of spoken words and were not retarded bymelodic forms. The new style did not accomplish what its creatorshoped for, but it gave birth to Italian opera and emancipated music ina large measure from the formalism that dominated it so long as itbelonged exclusively to the composers for the church. 

[Sidenote: _Predecessors of Wagner. _]

[Sidenote: _Old operatic distinctions. _]

[Sidenote: _Opera buffa. _]

[Sidenote: _Opera seria. _]

[Sidenote: _Recitative. _]

Detailed study of the progress of opera from the first efforts of theFlorentines to Wagner's dramas would carry us too far afield to servethe purposes of this book. My aim is to fix the attitude proper, or atleast useful, to the opera audience of to-day. The excursion intohistory which I have made has but the purpose to give the art-form areputable standing in court, and to explain the motives which promptedthe revolution accomplished by Wagner. As to the elements whichcompose an opera, only those need particular attention which areillustrated in the current repertory. Unlike the opera audiences oftwo centuries ago, we are not required to distinguish carefullybetween the various styles of opera in order to understand why thecomposer adopted a particular manner, and certain fixed forms in each. The old distinctions between _Opera seria_, _Opera buffa_, and _Operasemiseria_ perplex us no more. Only because of the perversion of thetime-honored Italian epithet _buffa_ by the French mongrel _Opérabouffe_ is it necessary to explain that the classic _Opera buffa_ wasa polite comedy, whose musical integument did not of necessity differfrom that of _Opera seria_ except in this--that the dialogue wascarried on in "dry" recitative (_recitativo secco_, or _parlante_) inthe former, and a more measured declamation with orchestralaccompaniment (_recitativo stromentato_) in the latter. So far assubject-matter was concerned the classic distinction between tragedyand comedy served. The dry recitative was supported by chords playedby a double-bass and harpsichord or pianoforte. In London, at a laterperiod, for reasons of doubtful validity, these chords came to beplayed on a double-bass and violoncello, as we occasionally hear themto-day. 

[Sidenote: _Opera semiseria. _]

[Sidenote: _"Don Giovanni. "_]

Shakespeare has taught us to accept an infusion of the comic elementin plays of a serious cast, but Shakespeare was an innovator, aRomanticist, and, measured by old standards, his dramas are irregular. The Italians, who followed classic models, for a reason amplyexplained by the genesis of the art-form, rigorously excluded comedyfrom serious operas, except as _intermezzi_, until they hit upon athird classification, which they called _Opera semiseria_, in which aserious subject was enlivened with comic episodes. Our dramatic tastesbeing grounded in Shakespeare, we should be inclined to put down "DonGiovanni" as a musical tragedy; or, haunted by the Italianterminology, as _Opera semiseria_; but Mozart calls it _Opera buffa_, more in deference to the librettist's work, I fancy, than his own, for, as I have suggested elsewhere, [E] the musician's imagination inthe fire of composition went far beyond the conventional fancy of thelibrettist in the finale of that most wonderful work. 

[Sidenote: _An Opera buffa. _]

[Sidenote: _French Grand Opéra. _]

[Sidenote: _Opéra comique. _]

[Sidenote: _"Mignon. "_]

[Sidenote: _"Faust. "_]

It is well to remember that "Don Giovanni" is an _Opera buffa_ whenwatching the buffooneries of _Leporello_, for that alone justifiesthem. The French have _Grand Opéra_, in which everything is sung toorchestra accompaniment, there being neither spoken dialogue nor dryrecitative, and _Opéra comique_, in which the dialogue is spoken. Thelatter corresponds with the honorable German term _Singspiel_, and onewill not go far astray if he associate both terms with the Englishoperas of Wallace and Balfe, save that the French and Germans havegenerally been more deft in bridging over the chasm between speech andsong than their British rivals. _Opéra comique_ has anothercharacteristic, its _dénouement_ must be happy. Formerly the _Théatrenational de l'Opéra-Comique_ in Paris was devoted exclusively to_Opéra comique_ as thus defined (it has since abolished thedistinction and _Grand Opéra_ may be heard there now), and, therefore, when Ambroise Thomas brought forward his "Mignon, " Goethe's story wasfound to be changed so that _Mignon_ recovered and was married to_Wilhelm Meister_ at the end. The Germans are seldom pleased with thetransformations which their literary masterpieces are forced toundergo at the hands of French librettists. They still refuse to callGounod's "Faust" by that name; if you wish to hear it in Germany youmust go to the theatre when "Margarethe" is performed. Naturally theyfell indignantly afoul of "Mignon, " and to placate them we have asecond finale, a _dénouement allemand_, provided by the authors, inwhich _Mignon_ dies as she ought. 

[Sidenote: _Grosse Oper. _]

[Sidenote: _Comic opera and operetta. _]

[Sidenote: _Opéra bouffe. _]

[Sidenote: _Romantic operas. _]

Of course the _Grosse Oper_ of the Germans is the French _Grand Opéra_and the English grand opera--but all the English terms are ambiguous, and everything that is done in Covent Garden in London or theMetropolitan Opera House in New York is set down as "grand opera, "just as the vilest imitations of the French _vaudevilles_ or Englishfarces with music are called "comic operas. " In its best estate, sayin the delightful works of Gilbert and Sullivan, what is designated ascomic opera ought to be called operetta, which is a piece in which theforms of grand opera are imitated, or travestied, the dialogue isspoken, and the purpose of the play is to satirize a popular folly. Only in method, agencies, and scope does such an operetta (theexamples of Gilbert and Sullivan are in mind) differ from comedy inits best conception, as a dramatic composition which aims to "chastisemanners with a smile" ("_Ridendo castigat mores_"). Its presentdegeneracy, as illustrated in the _Opéra bouffe_ of the French and theconcoctions of the would-be imitators of Gilbert and Sullivan, exemplifies little else than a pursuit far into the depths of themethod suggested by a friend to one of Lully's imitators who hadexpressed a fear that a ballet written, but not yet performed, wouldfail. "You must lengthen the dances and shorten the ladies' skirts, "he said. The Germans make another distinction based on the subjectchosen for the story. Spohr's "Jessonda, " Weber's "Freischütz, ""Oberon, " and "Euryanthe, " Marschner's "Vampyr, " "Templer und Jüdin, "and "Hans Heiling" are "Romantic" operas. The significance of thisclassification in operatic literature may be learned from an effortwhich I have made in another chapter to discuss the terms Classic andRomantic as applied to music. Briefly stated, the operas mentioned areput in a class by themselves (and their imitations with them) becausetheir plots were drawn from the romantic legends of the Middle Ages, in which the institutions of chivalry, fairy lore, and supernaturalismplay a large part. 

[Sidenote: _Modern designations. _]

[Sidenote: _German opera and Wagner. _]

These distinctions we meet in reading about music. As I haveintimated, we do not concern ourselves much with them now. In New Yorkand London the people speak of Italian, English, and German opera, referring generally to the language employed in the performance. Butthere is also in the use of the terms an underlying recognition ofdifferences in ideals of performance. As all operas sung in theregular seasons at Covent Garden and the Metropolitan Opera House arepopularly spoken of as Italian operas, so German opera popularly meansWagner's lyric dramas, in the first instance, and a style ofperformance which grew out of Wagner's influence in the second. Ascompared with Italian opera, in which the principal singers are alland the _ensemble_ nothing, it means, mayhap, inferior vocalists butbetter actors in the principal parts, a superior orchestra and chorus, and a more conscientious effort on the part of conductor, stagemanager, and artists, from first to last, to lift the general effectabove the conventional level which has prevailed for centuries in theItalian opera houses. 

[Sidenote: _Wagner's "Musikdrama. "_]

[Sidenote: _Modern Italian terminology. _]

In terminology, as well as in artistic aim, Wagner's lyric dramasround out a cycle that began with the works of the Florentinereformers of the sixteenth century. Wagner called his later operas_Musikdramen_, wherefore he was soundly abused and ridiculed by hiscritics. When the Italian opera first appeared it was called _Drammaper musica_, or _Melodramma_, or _Tragedia per musica_, all of whichterms stand in Italian for the conception that _Musikdrama_ stands forin German. The new thing had been in existence for half a century, andwas already on the road to the degraded level on which we shall findit when we come to the subject of operatic singing, before it came tobe called _Opera in musica_, of which "opera" is an abbreviation. Nowit is to be observed that the composers of all countries, having beentaught to believe that the dramatic contents of an opera have somesignificance, are abandoning the vague term "opera" and followingWagner in his adoption of the principles underlying the originalterminology. Verdi called his "Aïda" an _Opera in quattro atti_, buthis "Otello" he designated a lyric drama (_Dramma lirico_), his"Falstaff" a lyric comedy (_Commedia lirica_), and his example isfollowed by the younger Italian composers, such as Mascagni, Leoncavallo, and Puccini. 

[Sidenote: _Recitative. _]

In the majority of the operas of the current list the vocal elementillustrates an amalgamation of the archaic recitative and aria. Thedry form of recitative is met with now only in a few of the operaswhich date back to the last century or the early years of the present. "Le Nozze di Figaro, " "Don Giovanni, " and "Il Barbiere di Siviglia"are the most familiar works in which it is employed, and in thesecond of these it is used only by the bearers of the comedy element. The dissolute _Don_ chatters glibly in it with _Zerlina_, but when_Donna Anna_ and _Don Ottavio_ converse, it is in the _recitativostromentato_. 

[Sidenote: _The object of recitative. _]

[Sidenote: _Defects of the recitative. _]

[Sidenote: _What it can do. _]

In both forms recitative is the vehicle for promoting the action ofthe play, preparing its incidents, and paving the way for thesituations and emotional states which are exploited, promulgated, anddwelt upon in the set music pieces. Its purpose is to maintain theplay in an artificial atmosphere, so that the transition from dialogueto song may not be so abrupt as to disturb the mood of the listener. Of all the factors in an opera, the dry recitative is the mostmonotonous. It is not music, but speech about to break into music. Unless one is familiar with Italian and desirous of following theconversation, which we have been often told is not necessary to theenjoyment of an opera, its everlasting use of stereotyped falls andintervallic turns, coupled with the strumming of arpeggioed cadenceson the pianoforte (or worse, double-bass and violoncello), makes itinsufferably wearisome to the listener. Its expression isfleeting--only for the moment. It lacks the sustained tones andstructural symmetry essential to melody, and therefore it cannotsustain a mood. It makes efficient use of only one of the fundamentalfactors of vocal music--variety of pitch--and that in a rudimentaryway. It is specifically a product of the Italian language, and bestadapted to comedy in that language. Spoken with the vivacity native toit in the drama, dry recitative is an impossibility in English. It isonly in the more measured and sober gait proper to oratorio that wecan listen to it in the vernacular without thought of incongruity. Yetit may be made most admirably to preserve the characteristics ofconversation, and even illustrate Spencer's theory of the origin ofmusic. Witness the following brief example from "Don Giovanni, " inwhich the vivacity of the master is admirably contrasted with thelumpishness of his servant:

[Sidenote: _An example from Mozart. _]

[Music illustration: _Sempre sotto voce. _

DON GIOVANNI. LEPORELLO. _Le-po-rel-lo, o-ve sei? Son qui per_Le-po-rel-lo, where are you? I'm here and

 D. G. LEP. _dis-gra-zi-a! e vo-i? Son qui. Chi è_more's the pit-y! and you, Sir? Here too. Who's

 D. G. _mor-to, voi, o il vec-chio? Che do-_been killed, you or the old one? What a

 LEP. _man-da da bes-tia! il vec-chio. Bra-vo!_ques-tion, you boo-by! the old one. Bra-vo!]

[Sidenote: _Its characteristics. _]

Of course it is left to the intelligence and taste of the singers tobring out the effects in a recitative, but in this specimen it oughtto be noted how sluggishly the disgruntled _Leporello_ replies to thebrisk question of _Don Giovanni_, how correct is the rhetorical pausein "you, or the old one?" and the greater sobriety which comes overthe manner of the _Don_ as he thinks of the murder just committed, andreplies, "the old one. "

[Sidenote: _Recitative of some sort necessary. _]

[Sidenote: _The speaking voice in opera. _]

I am strongly inclined to the belief that in one form or the other, preferably the accompanied, recitative is a necessary integer in theoperatic sum. That it is possible to accustom one's self to the changealternately from speech to song we know from the experiences made withGerman, French, and English operas, but these were not true lyricdramas, but dramas with incidental music. To be a real lyric drama anopera ought to be musical throughout, the voice being maintained frombeginning to end on an exalted plane. The tendency to drop into thespeaking voice for the sake of dramatic effect shown by some tragicsingers does not seem to me commendable. Wagner relates withenthusiasm how Madame Schroeder-Devrient in "Fidelio" was wont to givesupreme emphasis to the phrase immediately preceding the trumpetsignal in the dungeon scene ("Another step, and you are _dead_!") byspeaking the last word "with an awful accent of despair. " He thencomments:

 "The indescribable effect of this manifested itself to all like an agonizing plunge from one sphere into another, and its sublimity consisted in this, that with lightning quickness a glimpse was given to us of the nature of both spheres, of which one was the ideal, the other the real. "

[Sidenote: _Wagner and Schroeder-Devrient. _]

I have heard a similar effect produced by Herr Niemann and MadameLehmann, but could not convince myself that it was not an extremelyventuresome experiment. Madame Schroeder-Devrient saw the beginning ofthe modern methods of dramatic expression, and it is easy to believethat a sudden change like that so well defined by Wagner, made withher sweeping voice and accompanied by her plastic and powerful acting, was really thrilling; but, I fancy, nevertheless, that only Beethovenand the intensity of feeling which pervades the scene saved theaudience from a disturbing sense of the incongruity of theperformance. 

[Sidenote: _Early forms. _]

[Sidenote: _The dialogue of the Florentines. _]

The development which has taken place in the recitative has not onlyassisted in elevating opera to the dignity of a lyric drama by savingus from alternate contemplation of the two spheres of ideality andreality, but has also made the factor itself an eloquent vehicle ofdramatic expression. Save that it had to forego the help of theinstruments beyond a mere harmonic support, the _stilorappresentativo_, or _musica parlante_, as the Florentines calledtheir musical dialogue, approached the sustained recitative which wehear in the oratorio and grand opera more closely than it did the_recitative secco_. Ever and anon, already in the earliest works (the"Eurydice" of Rinuccini as composed by both Peri and Caccini) thereare passages which sound like rudimentary melodies, but are chargedwith vital dramatic expression. Note the following phrase from_Orpheus's_ monologue on being left in the infernal regions by_Venus_, from Peri's opera, performed A. D. 1600, in honor of themarriage of Maria de' Medici to Henry IV. Of France:

[Sidenote: _An example from Peri. _]

[Music illustration:

 _E voi, deh per pie-tà, del mio mar-ti-re Che nel mi-se-ro cor di-mo-ra e-ter-no, La-cri-ma-te al mio pian-to om-bre d'in-fer-no!_]

[Sidenote: _Development of the arioso. _]

[Sidenote: _The aria supplanted. _]

[Sidenote: _Music and action. _]

Out of this style there grew within a decade something very near thearioso, and for all the purposes of our argument we may accept themelodic devices by which Wagner carries on the dialogue of his operasas an uncircumscribed arioso superimposed upon a foundation oforchestral harmony; for example, _Lohengrin's_ address to the swan, _Elsa's_ account of her dream. The greater melodiousness of the_recitativo stromentato_, and the aid of the orchestra when it beganto assert itself as a factor of independent value, soon enabled thisform of musical conversation to become a reflector of the changingmoods and passions of the play, and thus the value of the aria, whether considered as a solo, or in its composite form as duet, trio, quartet, or _ensemble_, was lessened. The growth of the accompaniedrecitative naturally brought with it emancipation from the tyranny ofthe classical aria. Wagner's reform had nothing to do with thatemancipation, which had been accomplished before him, but went, as weshall see presently, to a liberation of the composers from all theformal dams which had clogged the united flow of action and music. Weshould, however, even while admiring the achievements of moderncomposers in blending these elements (and I know of no more strikingillustration than the scene of the fat knight's discomfiture in_Ford's_ house in Verdi's "Falstaff") bear in mind that while we maydream of perfect union between words and music, it is not alwayspossible that action and music shall go hand in hand. Let me repeatwhat once I wrote in a review of Cornelius's opera, "Der Barbier vonBagdad:"[F]

[Sidenote: _How music can replace incident. _]

 "After all, of the constituents of an opera, action, at least that form of it usually called incident, is most easily spared. Progress in feeling, development of the emotional element, is indeed essential to variety of musical utterance, but nevertheless all great operas have demonstrated that music is more potent and eloquent when proclaiming an emotional state than while seeking to depict progress toward such a state. Even in the dramas of Wagner the culminating musical moments are predominantly lyrical, as witness the love-duet in 'Tristan, ' the close of 'Das Rheingold, ' _Siegmund's_ song, the love-duet, and _Wotan's_ farewell in 'Die Walküre, ' the forest scene and final duet in 'Siegfried, ' and the death of _Siegfried_ in 'Die Götterdämmerung. ' It is in the nature of music that this should be so. For the drama which plays on the stage of the heart, music is a more truthful language than speech; but it can stimulate movement and prepare the mind for an incident better than it can accompany movement and incident. Yet music that has a high degree of emotional expressiveness, by diverting attention from externals to the play of passion within the breasts of the persons can sometimes make us forget the paucity of incident in a play. 'Tristan und Isolde' is a case in point. Practically, its outward action is summed up in each of its three acts by the same words: Preparation for a meeting of the ill-starred lovers; the meeting. What is outside of this is mere detail; yet the effect of the tragedy upon a listener is that of a play surcharged with pregnant occurrence. It is the subtle alchemy of music that transmutes the psychological action of the tragedy into dramatic incident. "

[Sidenote: _Set forms not to be condemned. _]

[Sidenote: _Wagner's influence. _]

[Sidenote: _His orchestra. _]

[Sidenote: _Vocal feats. _]

For those who hold such a view with me it will be impossible tocondemn pieces of set forms in the lyric drama. Wagner stillrepresents his art-work alone, but in the influence which he exertedupon contemporaneous composers in Italy and France, as well asGermany, he is quite as significant a figure as he is as the creatorof the _Musikdrama_. The operas which are most popular in our Italianand French repertories are those which benefited by the liberationfrom formalism and the exaltation of the dramatic idea which hepreached and exemplified--such works as Gounod's "Faust, " Verdi's"Aïda" and "Otello, " and Bizet's "Carmen. " With that emancipationthere came, as was inevitable, new conceptions of the province ofdramatic singing as well as new convictions touching the mission ofthe orchestra. The instruments in Wagner's latter-day works are quiteas much as the singing actors the expositors of the dramatic idea, andin the works of the other men whom I have mentioned they speak alanguage which a century ago was known only to the orchestras of Gluckand Mozart with their comparatively limited, yet eloquent, vocabulary. Coupled with praise for the wonderful art of Mesdames Patti and Melba(and I am glad to have lived in their generation, though they do notrepresent my ideal in dramatic singing), we are accustomed to hearlamentations over the decay of singing. I have intoned such jeremiadsmyself, and I do not believe that music is suffering from a greaterwant to-day than that of a more thorough training for singers. Imarvel when I read that Senesino sang cadences of fifty seconds'duration; that Ferri with a single breath could trill upon each noteof two octaves, ascending and descending, and that La Bastardella'sart was equal to a perfect performance (perfect in the conception ofher day) of a flourish like this:

[Sidenote: _La Bastardella's flourish. _]

[Music illustration]

[Sidenote: _Character of the opera a century and a half ago. _]

[Sidenote: _Music and dramatic expression. _]

I marvel, I say, at the skill, the gifts, and the training which couldaccomplish such feats, but I would not have them back again if theywere to be employed in the old service. When Senesino, Farinelli, Sassarelli, Ferri, and their tribe dominated the stage, it struttedwith sexless Agamemnons and Cæsars. Telemachus, Darius, Nero, Cato, Alexander, Scipio, and Hannibal ran around on the boards aslanguishing lovers, clad in humiliating disguises, singing woful ariasto their mistress's eyebrows--arias full of trills and scales andflorid ornaments, but void of feeling as a problem in Euclid. Thanksvery largely to German influences, the opera is returning to itsoriginal purposes. Music is again become a means of dramaticexpression, and the singers who appeal to us most powerfully are thosewho are best able to make song subserve that purpose, and who to thatend give to dramatic truthfulness, to effective elocution, and toaction the attention which mere voice and beautiful utterance receivedin the period which is called the Golden Age of singing, but which wasthe Leaden Age of the lyric drama. 

[Sidenote: _Singers heard in New York. _]

For seventy years the people of New York, scarcely less favored thanthose of London, have heard nearly all the great singers of Europe. Let me talk about some of them, for I am trying to establish someground on which my readers may stand when they try to form an estimateof the singing which they are privileged to hear in the opera housesof to-day. Madame Malibran was a member of the first Italian companythat ever sang here. Madame Cinti-Damoreau came in 1844, Bosio in1849, Jenny Lind in 1850, Sontag in 1853, Grisi in 1854, La Grange in1855, Frezzolini in 1857, Piccolomini in 1858, Nilsson in 1870, Luccain 1872, Titiens in 1876, Gerster in 1878, and Sembrich in 1883. Iomit the singers of the German opera as belonging to a differentcategory. Adelina Patti was always with us until she made her Europeandébut in 1861, and remained abroad twenty years. Of the men who werethe artistic associates of these _prime donne_, mention may be made ofMario, Benedetti, Corsi, Salvi, Ronconi, Formes, Brignoli, Amadeo, Coletti, and Campanini, none of whom, excepting Mario, was offirst-class importance compared with the women singers. 

[Sidenote: _Grisi. _]

[Sidenote: _Jenny Lind. _]

[Sidenote: _Lilli Lehmann. _]

Nearly all of these singers, even those still living and remembered bythe younger generation of to-day, exploited their gifts in the operasof Rossini, Bellini, Donizetti, the early Verdi, and Meyerbeer. Grisiwas acclaimed a great dramatic singer, and it is told of her that oncein "Norma" she frightened the tenor who sang the part of _Pollio_ bythe fury of her acting. But measured by the standards of to-day, saythat set by Calvé's _Carmen_, it must have been a simple age thatcould be impressed by the tragic power of anyone acting the part ofBellini's Druidical priestess. The surmise is strengthened by thecircumstance that Madame Grisi created a sensation in "Il Trovatore"by showing signs of agitation in the tower scene, walking about thestage during _Manrico's_ "_Ah! che la morte ognora_, " as if she wouldfain discover the part of the castle where her lover was imprisoned. The chief charm of Jenny Lind in the memory of the older generation isthe pathos with which she sang simple songs. Mendelssohn esteemed hergreatly as a woman and artist, but he is quoted as once remarking toChorley: "I cannot think why she always prefers to be in a badtheatre. " Moscheles, recording his impressions of her in Meyerbeer's"Camp of Silesia" (now "L'Étoile du Nord"), reached the climax of hispraise in the words: "Her song with the two concertante flutes isperhaps the most incredible feat in the way of bravura singing thatcan possibly be heard. " She was credited, too, with fine powers as anactress; and that she possessed them can easily be believed, for fewof the singers whom I have mentioned had so early and intimate anassociation with the theatre as she. Her repugnance to it in laterlife she attributed to a prejudice inherited from her mother. A vastlydifferent heritage is disclosed by Madame Lehmann's devotion to thedrama, a devotion almost akin to religion. I have known her to go intothe scene-room of the Metropolitan Opera House in New York and searchfor mimic stumps and rocks with which to fit out a scene in"Siegfried, " in which she was not even to appear. That, like hersuper-human work at rehearsals, was "for the good of the cause, " asshe expressed it. 

[Sidenote: _Sontag. _]

Most amiable are the memories that cluster around the name of Sontag, whose career came to a grievous close by her sudden death in Mexico in1854. She was a German, and the early part of her artistic life wasinfluenced by German ideals, but it is said that only in the music ofMozart and Weber, which aroused in her strong national emotion, didshe sing dramatically. For the rest she used her light voice, whichhad an extraordinary range, brilliancy, and flexibility, very much asPatti and Melba use their voices to-day--in mere unfeeling vocaldisplay. 

 "She had an extensive soprano voice, " says Hogarth; "not remarkable for power, but clear, brilliant, and singularly flexible; a quality which seems to have led her (unlike most German singers in general) to cultivate the most florid style, and even to follow the bad example set by Catalani, of seeking to convert her voice into an instrument, and to astonish the public by executing the violin variations on Rode's air and other things of that stamp. "

[Sidenote: _La Grange. _]

[Sidenote: _Piccolomini. _]

[Sidenote: _Adelina Patti. _]

[Sidenote: _Gerster. _]

[Sidenote: _Lucca and Nilsson. _]

[Sidenote: _Sembrich. _]

Madame La Grange had a voice of wide compass, which enabled her tosing contralto rôles as well as soprano, but I have never heard herdramatic powers praised. As for Piccolomini, read of her where youwill, you shall find that she was "charming. " She was lovely to lookupon, and her acting in soubrette parts was fascinating. Until Melbacame Patti was for thirty years peerless as a mere vocalist. Shebelongs, as did Piccolomini and Sontag, to the comic _genre_; so didSembrich and Gerster, the latter of whom never knew it. I wellremember how indignant she became on one occasion, in her firstAmerican season, at a criticism which I wrote of her _Amina_ in "LaSonnambula, " a performance which remains among my loveliest and mostfragrant recollections. I had made use of Catalani's remark concerningSontag: "_Son genre est petit, mais elle est unique dans son genre_, "and applied it to her style. She almost flew into a passion. "_Mongenre est grand!_" said she, over and over again, while Dr. Gardini, her husband, tried to pacify her. "Come to see my _Marguerite_ nextseason. " Now, Gounod's _Marguerite_ does not quite belong to theheroic rôles, though we can all remember how Lucca thrilled us by herintensity of action as well as of song, and how Madame Nilsson sentthe blood out of our cheeks, though she did stride through the operalike a combination of the _grande dame_ and Ary Scheffer's spirituellepictures; but such as it is, Madame Gerster achieved a success ofinterest only, and that because of her strivings for originality. Sembrich and Gerster, when they were first heard in New York, had asmuch execution as Melba or Nilsson; but their voices had lessemotional power than that of the latter, and less beauty than that ofthe former--beauty of the kind that might be called classic, since itis in no way dependent on feeling. 

[Sidenote: _Melba and Eames. _]

[Sidenote: _Calvé. _]

[Sidenote: _Dramatic singers. _]

[Sidenote: _Jean de Reszke. _]

[Sidenote: _Edouard de Reszke and Plançon. _]

Patti, Lucca, Nilsson, and Gerster sang in the operas in which Melbaand Eames sing to-day, and though the standard of judgment has beenchanged in the last twenty-five years by the growth of German ideals, I can find no growth of potency in the performances of therepresentative women of Italian and French opera, except in the caseof Madame Calvé. For the development of dramatic ideals we must lookto the singers of German affiliations or antecedents, MesdamesMaterna, Lehmann, Sucher, and Nordica. As for the men of yesterday andto-day, no lover, I am sure, of the real lyric drama would give thedeclamatory warmth and gracefulness of pose and action which mark theperformances of M. Jean de Reszke for a hundred of the high notes ofMario (for one of which, we are told, he was wont to reserve hispowers all evening), were they never so lovely. Neither does thefine, resonant, equable voice of Edouard de Reszke or the finishedstyle of Plançon leave us with curious longings touching the voicesand manners of Lablache and Formes. Other times, other manners, inmusic as in everything else. The great singers of to-day are those whoappeal to the taste of to-day, and that taste differs, as the clotheswhich we wear differ, from the style in vogue in the days of ourancestors. 

[Sidenote: _Wagner's operas. _]

[Sidenote: _Wagner's lyric dramas. _]

[Sidenote: _His theories. _]

[Sidenote: _The mission of music. _]

[Sidenote: _Distinctions abolished. _]

[Sidenote: _The typical phrases. _]

[Sidenote: _Characteristics of some motives. _]

A great deal of confusion has crept into the public mind concerningWagner and his works by the failure to differentiate between hisearlier and later creations. No injustice is done the composer bylooking upon his "Flying Dutchman, " "Tannhäuser, " and "Lohengrin" asoperas. We find the dramatic element lifted into noble prominence in"Tannhäuser, " and admirable freedom in the handling of the musicalfactors in "Lohengrin, " but they must, nevertheless, be listened to asone would listen to the operas of Weber, Marschner, or Meyerbeer. They are, in fact, much nearer to the conventional operatic type thanto the works which came after them, and were called _Musikdramen_. "Music drama" is an awkward phrase, and I have taken the liberty ofsubstituting "lyric drama" for it, and as such I shall designate"Tristan und Isolde, " "Die Meistersinger, " "Der Ring des Nibelungen, "and "Parsifal. " In these works Wagner exemplified his reformatoryideas and accomplished a regeneration of the lyric drama, as we foundit embodied in principle in the Greek tragedy and the _Dramma permusica_ of the Florentine scholars. Wagner's starting-point is, thatin the opera music had usurped a place which did not belong to it. [G]It was designed to be a means and had become an end. In the drama hefound a combination of poetry, music, pantomime, and scenery, and heheld that these factors ought to co-operate on a basis of mutualdependence, the inspiration of all being dramatic expression. Music, therefore, ought to be subordinate to the text in which the dramaticidea is expressed, and simply serve to raise it to a higher power bygiving it greater emotional life. So, also, it ought to vivifypantomime and accompany the stage pictures. In order that it might doall this, it had to be relieved of the shackles of formalism; onlythus could it move with the same freedom as the other elementsconsorted with it in the drama. Therefore, the distinctions betweenrecitative and aria were abolished, and an "endless melody" took theplace of both. An exalted form of speech is borne along on a flood oforchestral music, which, quite as much as song, action, and sceneryconcerns itself with the exposition of the drama. That it may do thisthe agencies, spiritual as well as material, which are instrumental inthe development of the play, are identified with certain melodicphrases, out of which the musical fabric is woven. These phrases arethe much mooted, much misunderstood "leading motives"--typical phrasesI call them. Wagner has tried to make them reflect the character ornature of the agencies with which he has associated them, andtherefore we find the giants in the Niblung tetralogy symbolized inheavy, slowly moving, cumbersome phrases; the dwarfs have two phrases, one suggesting their occupation as smiths, by its hammering rhythm, and the other their intellectual habits, by its suggestion of broodingcontemplativeness. I cannot go through the catalogue of the typicalphrases which enter into the musical structure of the works which Ihave called lyric dramas as contra-distinguished from operas. Theyshould, of course, be known to the student of Wagner, for thereby willhe be helped to understand the poet-composer's purposes, but I wouldfain repeat the warning which I uttered twice in my "Studies in theWagnerian Drama:"

[Sidenote: _The phrases should be studied. _]

 "It cannot be too forcibly urged that if we confine our study of Wagner to the forms and names of the phrases out of which he constructs his musical fabric, we shall, at the last, have enriched our minds with a thematic catalogue and--nothing else. We shall remain guiltless of knowledge unless we learn something of the nature of those phrases by noting the attributes which lend them propriety and fitness, and can recognize, measurably at least, the reasons for their introduction and development. Those attributes give character and mood to the music constructed out of the phrases. If we are able to feel the mood, we need not care how the phrases which produce it have been labelled. If we do not feel the mood, we may memorize the whole thematic catalogue of Wolzogen and have our labor for our pains. It would be better to know nothing about the phrases, and content one's self with simple sensuous enjoyment than to spend one's time answering the baldest of all the riddles of Wagner's orchestra--'What am I playing now?'

[Sidenote: _The question of effectiveness. _]

 "The ultimate question concerning the correctness or effectiveness of Wagner's system of composition must, of course, be answered along with the question: 'Does the composition, as a whole, touch the emotions, quicken the fancy, fire the imagination?' If it does these things, we may, to a great extent, if we wish, get along without the intellectual processes of reflection and comparison which are conditioned upon a recognition of the themes and their uses. But if we put aside this intellectual activity, we shall deprive ourselves, among other things, of the pleasures which it is the province of memory to give; and the exercise of memory is called for by music much more urgently than by any other art, because of its volatile nature and the rôle which repetition plays in it. "

FOOTNOTES:

[E] "But no real student can have studied the score deeply, orlistened discriminatingly to a good performance, without discoveringthat there is a tremendous chasm between the conventional aims of theItalian poet in the book of the opera and the work which emerged fromthe composer's profound imagination. Da Ponte contemplated a _drammagiocoso_; Mozart humored him until his imagination came within theshadow cast before by the catastrophe, and then he transformed thepoet's comedy into a tragedy of crushing power. The climax of DaPonte's ideal is reached in a picture of the dissolute _Don_ wrestlingin idle desperation with a host of spectacular devils, and finallydisappearing through a trap, while fire bursts out on all sides, thethunders roll, and _Leporello_ gazes on the scene, crouched in a comicattitude of terror, under the table. Such a picture satisfied thetastes of the public of his time, and that public found nothingincongruous in a return to the scene immediately afterward of all thecharacters save the reprobate, who had gone to his reward, to hear adescription of the catastrophe from the buffoon under the table, andplatitudinously to moralize that the perfidious wretch, having beenstored away safely in the realm of Pluto and Proserpine, nothingremained for them to do except to raise their voices in the words ofthe "old song, "

 _"Questo è il fin di chi fa mal: E dei perfidi la morte Alla vita è sempre ugual. "_

"New York Musical Season, 1889-90. "

[F] "Review of the New York Musical Season, 1889-90, " p. 75. 

[G] See "Studies in the Wagnerian Drama, " chapter I. 

VIII

_Choirs and Choral Music_

[Sidenote: _Choirs a touchstone of culture. _]

[Sidenote: _The value of choir singing. _]

No one would go far astray who should estimate the extent andsincerity of a community's musical culture by the number of its chorussingers. Some years ago it was said that over three hundred cities andtowns in Germany contained singing societies and orchestras devoted tothe cultivation of choral music. In the United States, where there arecomparatively a small number of instrumental musicians, there has beena wonderful development of singing societies within the lastgeneration, and it is to this fact largely that the notable growth inthe country's knowledge and appreciation of high-class music is due. No amount of mere hearing and study can compare in influence withparticipation in musical performance. Music is an art which rests onlove. It is beautiful sound vitalized by feeling, and it can only begrasped fully through man's emotional nature. There is no quicker orsurer way to get to the heart of a composition than by performing it, and since participation in chorus singing is of necessity unselfishand creative of sympathy, there is no better medium of musical culturethan membership in a choir. It was because he realized this thatSchumann gave the advice to all students of music: "Sing diligently inchoirs; especially the middle voices, for this will make you musical. "

[Sidenote: _Singing societies and orchestras. _]

[Sidenote: _Neither numbers nor wealth necessary. _]

There is no community so small or so ill-conditioned that it cannotmaintain a singing society. Before a city can give sustenance to evena small body of instrumentalists it must be large enough and richenough to maintain a theatre from which those instrumentalists canderive their support. There can be no dependence upon amateurs, forpeople do not study the oboe, bassoon, trombone, or double-bass foramusement. Amateur violinists and amateur flautists there are inplenty, but not amateur clarinetists and French-horn players; but ifthe love for music exists in a community, a dozen families shallsuffice to maintain a choral club. Large numbers are therefore notessential; neither is wealth. Some of the largest and finest choirs inthe world flourish among the Welsh miners in the United States andWales, fostered by a native love for the art and the nationalinstitution called Eisteddfod. 

[Sidenote: _Lines of choral culture in the United States. _]

The lines on which choral culture has proceeded in the United Statesare two, of which the more valuable, from an artistic point of view, is that of the oratorio, which went out from New England. The otheroriginated in the German cultivation of the _Männergesang_, theimportance of which is felt more in the extent of the culture, prompted as it is largely by social considerations, than in the musicsung, which is of necessity of a lower grade than that composed formixed voices. It is chiefly in the impulse which German _Männergesang_carried into all the corners of the land, and especially the impetuswhich the festivals of the German singers gave to the sections inwhich they have been held for half a century, that this form ofculture is interesting. 

[Sidenote: _Church and oratorio. _]

[Sidenote: _Secular choirs. _]

The cultivation of oratorio music sprang naturally from the Church, and though it is now chiefly in the hands of secular societies, thebiblical origin of the vast majority of the texts used in the workswhich are performed, and more especially the regular performances ofHandel's "Messiah" in the Christmastide, have left the notion, more orless distinct, in the public mind, that oratorios are religiousfunctions. Nevertheless (or perhaps because of this fact) the mostsuccessful choral concerts in the United States are those given byoratorio societies. The cultivation of choral music which is secularin character is chiefly in the hands of small organizations, whoseconcerts are of a semi-private nature and are enjoyed by the associatemembers and invited guests. This circumstance is deserving of noticeas a characteristic feature of choral music in America, though it hasno particular bearing upon this study, which must concern itself withchoral organizations, choral music, and choral performances ingeneral. 

[Sidenote: _Amateur choirs originated in the United States. _]

[Sidenote: _The size of old choirs. _]

Organizations of the kind in view differ from instrumental in beingcomposed of amateurs; and amateur choir-singing is no older anywherethan in the United States. Two centuries ago and more the singing ofcatches and glees was a common amusement among the gentler classes inEngland, but the performances of the larger forms of choral music werein the hands of professional choristers who were connected withchurches, theatres, schools, and other public institutions. Naturally, then, the choral bodies were small. Choirs of hundreds and thousands, such as take part in the festivals of to-day, are a product of a latertime. 

[Sidenote: _Handel's choirs. _]

 "When Bach and Handel wrote their Passions, Church Cantatas, and Oratorios, they could only dream of such majestic performances as those works receive now; and it is one of the miracles of art that they should have written in so masterly a manner for forces that they could never hope to control. Who would think, when listening to the 'Hallelujah' of 'The Messiah, ' or the great double choruses of 'Israel in Egypt, ' in which the voice of the composer is 'as the voice of a great multitude, and as the voice of many waters, and as the voice of many thunderings, saying, "Alleluia, for the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth!"' that these colossal compositions were never heard by Handel from any chorus larger than the most modest of our church choirs? At the last performance of 'The Messiah' at which Handel was advertised to appear (it was for the benefit of his favorite charity, the Foundling Hospital, on May 3, 1759--he died before the time, however), the singers, including principals, numbered twenty-three, while the instrumentalists numbered thirty-three. At the first great Handel Commemoration, in Westminster Abbey, in 1784, the choir numbered two hundred and seventy-five, the band two hundred and fifty; and this was the most numerous force ever gathered together for a single performance in England up to that time. 

[Sidenote: _Choirs a century ago. _]

[Sidenote: _Bach's choir. _]

 "In 1791 the Commemoration was celebrated by a choir of five hundred and a band of three hundred and seventy-five. In May, 1786, Johann Adam Hiller, one of Bach's successors as cantor of the St. Thomas School in Leipsic, directed what was termed a _Massenaufführung_ of 'The Messiah, ' in the Domkirche, in Berlin. His 'masses' consisted of one hundred and eighteen singers and one hundred and eighty-six instrumentalists. In Handel's operas, and sometimes even in his oratorios, the _tutti_ meant, in his time, little more than a union of all the solo singers; and even Bach's Passion music and church cantatas, which seem as much designed for numbers as the double choruses of 'Israel, ' were rendered in the St. Thomas Church by a ludicrously small choir. Of this fact a record is preserved in the archives of Leipsic. In August, 1730, Bach submitted to the authorities a plan for a church choir of the pupils in his care. In this plan his singers numbered twelve, there being one principal and two ripienists in each voice; with characteristic modesty he barely suggests a preference for sixteen. The circumstance that in the same document he asked for at least eighteen instrumentalists (two more if flutes were used), taken in connection with the figures given relative to the 'Messiah' performances, gives an insight into the relations between the vocal and the instrumental parts of a choral performance in those days. "[H]

[Sidenote: _Proportion of voices and instruments. _]

This relation has been more than reversed since then, the orchestrasat modern oratorio performances seldom being one-fifth as large as thechoir. This difference, however, is due largely to the changedcharacter of modern music, that of to-day treating the instruments asindependent agents of expression instead of using them chiefly tosupport the voices and add sonority to the tonal mass, as was done byHandel and most of the composers of his day. 

[Sidenote: _Glee unions and male choirs. _]

I omit from consideration the Glee Unions of England, and thequartets, which correspond to them, in this country. They are notcultivators of choral music, and the music which they sing is aninsignificant factor in culture. The male choirs, too, need not detainus long, since it may be said without injustice that their mission ismore social than artistic. In these choirs the subdivision into partsis, as a rule, into two tenor voices, first and second, and two bass, first and second. In the glee unions, the effect of whose singing isfairly well imitated by the college clubs of the United States(pitiful things, indeed, from an artistic point of view), there is asurvival of an old element in the male alto singing above the melodyvoice, generally in a painful falsetto. This abomination is unknown tothe German part-songs for men's voices, which are written normally, but are in the long run monotonous in color for want of the variety intimbre and register which the female voices contribute in a mixedchoir. 

[Sidenote: _Women's choirs. _]

There are choirs also composed exclusively of women, but they areeven more unsatisfactory than the male choirs, for the reason that theabsence of the bass voice leaves their harmony without sufficientfoundation. Generally, music for these choirs is written for threeparts, two sopranos and contralto, with the result that it hovers, suspended like Mahomet's coffin, between heaven and earth. When afourth part is added it is a second contralto, which is generallycarried down to the tones that are hollow and unnatural. 

[Sidenote: _Boys' choirs. _]

The substitution of boys for women in Episcopal Church choirs hasgrown extensively within the last ten years in the United States, verymuch to the promotion of æsthetic sentimentality in the congregations, but without improving the character of worship-music. Boys' voices arepractically limitless in an upward direction, and are naturally clearand penetrating. Ravishing effects can be produced with them, but itis false art to use passionless voices in music conceived for themature and emotional voices of adults; and very little of the oldEnglish Cathedral music, written for choirs of boys and men, ispreserved in the service lists to-day. 

[Sidenote: _Mixed choirs. _]

The only satisfactory choirs are the mixed choirs of men and women. Upon them has devolved the cultivation of artistic choral music in ourpublic concert-rooms. As we know such choirs now, they are ofcomparatively recent origin, and it is a singular commentary upon theway in which musical history is written, that the fact should have solong been overlooked that the credit of organizing the first belongsto the United States. A little reflection will show this fact, whichseems somewhat startling at first blush, to be entirely natural. Largesinging societies are of necessity made up of amateurs, and the wantof professional musicians in America compelled the people to enlistamateurs at a time when in Europe choral activity rested on thechurch, theatre, and institute choristers, who were practicallyprofessionals. 

[Sidenote: _Origin of amateur singing societies. _]

[Sidenote: _The German record. _]

[Sidenote: _American priority. _]

[Sidenote: _The American record. _]

As the hitherto accepted record stands, the first amateur singingsociety was the Singakademie of Berlin, which Carl Friedrich Fasch, accompanist to the royal flautist, Frederick the Great, called intoexistence in 1791. A few dates will show how slow the other cities ofmusical Germany were in following Berlin's example. In 1818 there wereonly ten amateur choirs in all Germany. Leipsic organized one in 1800, Stettin in 1800, Münster in 1804, Dresden in 1807, Potsdam in 1814, Bremen in 1815, Chemnitz in 1817, Schwäbisch-Hall in 1817, andInnsbruck in 1818. The Berlin Singakademie is still in existence, butso also is the Stoughton Musical Society in Stoughton, Mass. , whichwas founded on November 7, 1786. Mr. Charles C. Perkins, historian ofthe Handel and Haydn Society, whose foundation was coincident with thesixth society in Germany (Bremen, 1815), enumerates the followingpredecessors of that venerable organization: the Stoughton MusicalSociety, 1786; Independent Musical Society, "established at Boston inthe same year, which gave a concert at King's Chapel in 1788, and tookpart there in commemorating the death of Washington (December 14, 1799) on his first succeeding birthday;" the Franklin, 1804; theSalem, 1806; Massachusetts Musical, 1807; Lock Hospital, 1812, and theNorfolk Musical, the date of whose foundation is not given by Mr. Perkins. 

[Sidenote: _Choirs in the West. _]

When the Bremen Singakademie was organized there were already choirsin the United States as far west as Cincinnati. In that city they weremerely church choirs at first, but within a few years they hadcombined into a large body and were giving concerts at which some ofthe choruses of Handel and Haydn were sung. That their performances, as well as those of the New England societies, were cruder than thoseof their European rivals may well be believed, but with this I havenothing to do. I am simply seeking to establish the priority of theUnited States in amateur choral culture. The number of American citiesin which oratorios are performed annually is now about fifty. 

[Sidenote: _The size of choirs. _]

[Sidenote: _Large numbers not essential. _]

[Sidenote: _How "divisions" used to be sung. _]

In size mixed choirs ordinarily range from forty voices to fivehundred. It were well if it were understood by choristers as well asthe public that numbers merely are not a sign of merit in a singingsociety. So the concert-room be not too large, a choir of sixtywell-trained voices is large enough to perform almost everything inchoral literature with good effect, and the majority of the bestcompositions will sound better under such circumstances than in largerooms with large choirs. Especially is this true of the music of theMiddle Ages, written for voices without instrumental accompaniment, ofwhich I shall have something to say when the discussion reaches choralprogrammes. There is music, it is true, like much of Handel's, theimpressiveness of which is greatly enhanced by masses, but it is notextensive enough to justify the sacrifice of correctness and finish inthe performance to mere volume. The use of large choirs has had theeffect of developing the skilfulness of amateur singers in anastonishing degree, but there is, nevertheless, a point whereweightiness of tone becomes an obstacle to finished execution. WhenMozart remodelled Handel's "Messiah" he was careful to indicate thatthe florid passages ("divisions" they used to be called in England)should be sung by the solo voices alone, but nowadays choirs of fivehundred voices attack such choruses as "For unto us a Child is Born, "without the slightest hesitation, even if they sometimes make amournful mess of the "divisions. "

[Sidenote: _The division of choirs. _]

[Sidenote: _Five-part music. _]

[Sidenote: _Eight part. _]

[Sidenote: _Antiphonal music. _]

[Sidenote: _Bach's "St. Matthew Passion. "_]

The normal division of a mixed choir is into four parts orvoices--soprano, contralto, tenor, and bass; but composers sometimeswrite for more parts, and the choir is subdivided to correspond. Thecustom of writing for five, six, eight, ten, and even more voices wasmore common in the Middle Ages, the palmy days of the _a capella_(_i. E. _, for the chapel, unaccompanied) style than it is now, and, asa rule, a division into more than four voices is not needed outside ofthe societies which cultivate this old music, such as the Musical ArtSociety in New York, the Bach Choir in London, and the Domchor inBerlin. In music for five parts, one of the upper voices, soprano ortenor, is generally doubled; for six, the ordinary distribution isinto two sopranos, two contraltos, tenor, and bass. When eight voicesare reached a distinction is made according as there are to be eightreal parts (_a otto voci reali_), or two choruses of the four normalparts each (_a otto voci in due cori reali_). In the first instancethe arrangement commonly is three sopranos, two contraltos, twotenors, and one bass. One of the most beautiful uses of the doublechoir is to produce antiphonal effects, choir answering to choir, bothoccasionally uniting in the climaxes. How stirring this effect can bemade may be observed in some of Bach's compositions, especially thosein which he makes the division of the choir subserve a dramaticpurpose, as in the first chorus of "The Passion according to St. Matthew, " where the two choirs, one representing _Daughters of Zion_, the other _Believers_, interrogate and answer each other thus:

 I. "Come, ye daughters, weep for anguish; See Him!II. "Whom? I. "The Son of Man. See Him!II. "How? I. "So like a lamb. See it!II. "What? I. "His love untold. Look!II. "Look where? I. "Our guilt behold. "

[Sidenote: _Antiphony in a motet. _]

Another most striking instance is in the same master's motet, "Sing yeto the Lord, " which is written for two choirs of four parts each. (Inthe example from the "St. Matthew Passion" there is a third choir ofsoprano voices which sings a chorale while the dramatic choirs areconversing. ) In the motet the first choir begins a fugue, in the midstof which the second choir is heard shouting jubilantly, "Sing ye! Singye! Sing ye!" Then the choirs change rôles, the first delivering theinjunction, the second singing the fugue. In modern music, composersfrequently consort a quartet of solo voices, soprano, contralto, tenor, and bass, with a four-part chorus, and thus achieve fineeffects of contrast in dynamics and color, as well as antiphonal. 

[Sidenote: _Excellence in choral singing. _]

[Sidenote: _Community of action. _]

[Sidenote: _Individualism. _]

[Sidenote: _Dynamics. _]

[Sidenote: _Beauty of tone. _]

[Sidenote: _Contralto voices. _]

The question is near: What constitutes excellence in a choralperformance? To answer: The same qualities that constitute excellencein an orchestral performance, will scarcely suffice, except as ageneralization. A higher degree of harmonious action is exacted of abody of singers than of a body of instrumentalists. Many of the partsin a symphony are played by a single instrument. Community of voicebelongs only to each of the five bodies of string-players. In a chorusthere are from twelve to one hundred and fifty voices, or even more, united in each part. This demands the effacement of individuality in achorus, upon the assertion of which, in a band, under the judiciousguidance of the conductor, many of the effects of color and expressiondepend. Each group in a choir must strive for homogeneity of voicequality; each singer must sink the _ego_ in the aggregation, yetemploy it in its highest potency so far as the mastery of the technicsof singing is concerned. In cultivating precision of attack (_i. E. _, promptness in beginning a tone and leaving it off), purity ofintonation (_i. E. _, accuracy or justness of pitch--"singing in tune"according to the popular phrase), clearness of enunciation, andcareful attention to all the dynamic gradations of tone, from verysoft up to very loud, and all shades of expression between, in thedevelopment of that gradual augmentation of tone called _crescendo_, and the gradual diminution called _diminuendo_, the highest order ofindividual skill is exacted from every chorister; for upon individualperfection in these things depends the collective effect which it isthe purpose of the conductor to achieve. Sensuous beauty of tone, evenin large aggregations, is also dependent to a great degree uponcareful and proper emission of voice by each individual, and it isbecause the contralto part in most choral music, being a middle part, lies so easily in the voices of the singers that the contraltocontingent in American choirs, especially, so often attracts attentionby the charm of its tone. Contralto voices are seldom forced into theregions which compel so great a physical strain that beauty andcharacter must be sacrificed to mere accomplishment of utterance, asis frequently the case with the soprano part. 

[Sidenote: _Selfishness fatal to success. _]

[Sidenote: _Tonal balance. _]

Yet back of all this exercise of individual skill there must be aspirit of self-sacrifice which can only exist in effective potency ifprompted by universal sympathy and love for the art. A selfishchorister is not a chorister, though possessed of the voice of a Melbaor Mario. Balance between the parts, not only in the fundamentalconstitution of the choir but also in all stages of a performance, isalso a matter of the highest consideration. In urban communities, especially, it is difficult to secure perfect tonal symmetry--the ruleis a poverty in tenor voices--but those who go to hear choral concertsare entitled to hear a well-balanced choir, and the presence of anarmy of sopranos will not condone a squad of tenors. Again, I say, better a well-balanced small choir than an ill-balanced large one. 

[Sidenote: _Declamation. _]

[Sidenote: _Expression. _]

[Sidenote: _The choruses in "The Messiah. "_]

[Sidenote: _Variety of declamation in Handel's oratorio. _]

I have not enumerated all the elements which enter into a meritoriousperformance, nor shall I discuss them all; only in passing do I wishto direct attention to one which shines by its absence in the choralperformances not only of America but also of Great Britain andGermany. Proper pronunciation of the texts is an obvious requirement;so ought also to be declamation. There is no reason why characteristicexpression, by which I mean expression which goes to the genius of themelodic phrase when it springs from the verbal, should be ignored, simply because it may be difficult of attainment from large bodies ofsingers. There is so much monotony in oratorio concerts because alloratorios and all parts of any single oratorio are sung alike. Onlywhen the "Hallelujah" is sung in "The Messiah" at the graciousChristmastide is an exaltation above the dull level of the routineperformances noticeable, and then it is communicated to the singers bythe act of the listeners in rising to their feet. Now, despite thestructural sameness in the choruses of "The Messiah, " they have agreat variety of content, and if the characteristic physiognomy ofeach could but be disclosed, the grand old work, which seems hackneyedto so many, would acquire amazing freshness, eloquence, and power. Then should we be privileged to note that there is ample variety inthe voice of the old master, of whom a greater than he said that whenhe wished, he could strike like a thunderbolt. Then should we hear thetones of amazed adoration in

[Music illustration: Be-hold the Lamb of God!]

of cruel scorn in

[Music illustration: He trust-ed in God that would de-li-ver Him, lethim de-li-ver him if he de-light in him. ]

of boastfulness and conscious strength in

[Music illustration: Let us break their bonds a-sun-der. ]

and learn to admire as we ought to admire the declamatory strengthand truthfulness so common in Handel's choruses. 

[Sidenote: _Mediæval music. _]

[Sidenote: _Madrigals. _]

There is very little cultivation of choral music of the earlyecclesiastical type, and that little is limited to the Church and afew choirs specially organized for its performance, like those that Ihave mentioned. This music is so foreign to the conceptions of theordinary amateur, and exacts so much skill in the singing of theintervals, lacking the prop of modern tonality as it does, that it isseldom that an amateur body can be found equal to its performance. Moreover, it is nearly all of a solemn type. Its composers werechurchmen, and when it was written nearly all that there was ofartistic music was in the service of the Church. The secular music ofthe time consisted chiefly in Madrigals, which differed fromecclesiastical music only in their texts, they being generally eroticin sentiment. The choristers of to-day, no less than the public, findit difficult to appreciate them, because they are not melodic in thesense that most music is nowadays. In them the melody is not theprivileged possession of the soprano voice. All the voices stand onan equal footing, and the composition consists of a weaving together, according to scientific rules, of a number of voices--counterpoint asit is called. 

[Sidenote: _Homophonic hymns. _]

[Sidenote: _Calvin's restrictive influence. _]

Our hymn-tunes are homophonic, based upon a melody sung by one voice, for which the other voices provide the harmony. This style of musiccame into the Church through the German Reformation. Though Calvin wasa lover of music he restricted its practice among his followers tounisonal psalmody, that is, to certain tunes adapted to the versifiedpsalms sung without accompaniment of harmony voices. On the adoptionof the Genevan psalter he gave the strictest injunction that neitherits text nor its melodies were to be altered. 

 "Those songs and melodies, " said he, "which are composed for the mere pleasure of the ear, and all they call ornamental music, and songs for four parts, do not behoove the majesty of the Church, and cannot fail greatly to displease God. "

[Sidenote: _Luther and the German Church. _]

Under the influence of the German reformers music was in a verydifferent case. Luther was not only an amateur musician, he was alsoan ardent lover of scientific music. Josquin des Pres, a contemporaryof Columbus, was his greatest admiration; nevertheless, he was anxiousfrom the beginning of his work of Church establishment to have themusic of the German Church German in spirit and style. In 1525 hewrote:

[Sidenote: _A German mass. _]

 "I should like to have a German mass, and I am indeed at work on one; but I am anxious that it shall be truly German in manner. I have no objection to a translated Latin text and Latin notes; but they are neither proper nor just (_aber es lautet nicht artig noch rechtschaffen_); text and notes, accent, melodies, and demeanor must come from our mother tongue and voice, else will it all be but a mimicry, like that of the apes. "

[Sidenote: _Secular tunes used. _]

[Sidenote: _Congregational singing. _]

In the Church music of the time, composed, as I have described, by ascientific interweaving of voices, the composers had got into thehabit of utilizing secular melodies as the foundation on which tobuild their contrapuntal structures. I have no doubt that it was thespirit which speaks out of Luther's words which brought it to passthat in Germany contrapuntal music with popular melodies asfoundations developed into the chorale, in which the melody and notthe counterpoint was the essential thing. With the Lutheran Churchcame congregational singing; with congregational singing the need of anew style of composition, which should not only make the participationof the people in the singing possible, but should also stimulate themto sing by freeing the familiar melodies (the melodies of folk-songs)from the elaborate and ingenious, but soulless, counterpoint whichfettered them. 

[Sidenote: _Counterpoint. _]

[Sidenote: _The first congregational hymns. _]

The Flemish masters, who were the musical law-givers, had been usingsecular tunes for over a century, but only as stalking-horses forcounterpoint; and when the Germans began to use their tunes, they, too, buried them beyond recognition in the contrapuntal mass. Thepeople were invited to sing paraphrases of the psalms to familiartunes, it is true, but the choir's polyphony went far to stifle thespirit of the melody. Soon the free spirit which I have repeatedlyreferred to as Romanticism, and which was powerfully encouraged bythe Reformation, prompted a style of composition in which the admiredmelody was lifted into relief. This could not be done until the newstyle of writing invented by the creators of the opera (see ChapterVII. ) came in, but as early as 1568 Dr. Lucas Ostrander publishedfifty hymns and psalms with music so arranged "that the congregationmay join in singing them. " This, then, is in outline the story of thebeginning of modern hymnology, and it is recalled to the patrons ofchoral concerts whenever in Bach's "Passion Music" or in Mendelssohn's"St. Paul" the choir sings one of the marvellous old hymns of theGerman Church. 

[Sidenote: _The Church and conservatism. _]

[Sidenote: _Harmony and emotion. _]

Choral music being bound up with the Church, it has naturallyparticipated in the conservatism characteristic of the Church. Thesevere old style has survived in the choral compositions of to-day, while instrumental music has grown to be almost a new thing within thecentury which is just closing. It is the severe style established byBach, however, not that of Palestrina. In the Church compositionsprior to Palestrina the emotional power of harmony was but littleunderstood. The harmonies, indeed, were the accidents of theinterweaving of melodies. Palestrina was among the first to feel theuplifting effect which might result from a simple sequence of pureconsonant harmonies, and the three chords which open his famous"Stabat Mater"

[Sidenote: _Palestrina's "Stabat Mater. "_]

[Sidenote: _Characteristics of his music. _]

[Music illustration: Sta-bat ma-ter]

are a sign of his style as distinct in its way as the devices by meansof which Wagner stamps his individuality on his phrases. His melodies, too, compared with the artificial _motivi_ of his predecessors, aredistinguished by grace, beauty, and expressiveness, while his commandof ætherial effects, due to the manner in which the voices arecombined, is absolutely without parallel from his day to this. Of themystery of pure beauty he enjoyed a wonderful revelation, and hashanded it down to us in such works as the "Stabat Mater, " "Missa PapæMarcelli, " and the "Improperia. "

[Sidenote: _Palestrina's music not dramatic. _]

[Sidenote: _A churchman. _]

[Sidenote: _Effect of the Reformation. _]

This music must not be listened to with the notion in mind of dramaticexpression such as we almost instinctively feel to-day. Palestrinadoes not seek to proclaim the varying sentiment which underlies histexts. That leads to individual interpretation and is foreign to thehabits of churchmen in the old conception, when the individual wascompletely resolved in the organization. He aimed to exalt the mysteryof the service, not to bring it down to popular comprehension and makeit a personal utterance. For such a design in music we must wait untilafter the Reformation, when the ancient mysticism began to fall backbefore the demands of reason, when the idea of the sole and sufficientmediation of the Church lost some of its power in the face of thegrowing conviction of intimate personal relationship between man andhis creator. Now idealism had to yield some of its dominion torealism, and a more rugged art grew up in place of that which hadbeen so wonderfully sublimated by mysticism. 

[Sidenote: _The source of beauty in Palestrina's music. _]

It is in Bach, who came a century after Palestrina, that we find themost eloquent musical proclamation of the new régime, and it is in nosense disrespectful to the great German master if we feel that thechange in ideals was accompanied with a loss in sensuous charm, orpure æsthetic beauty. Effect has had to yield to idea. It is in theflow of the voices, the color effects which result from combinationand registers, the clarity of the harmonies, the reposefulness comingfrom conscious ease of utterance, the loveliness of each individualpart, and the spiritual exaltation of the whole that the æstheticmystery of Palestrina's music lies. 

[Sidenote: _Bach. _]

Like Palestrina, Bach is the culmination of the musical practice ofhis time, but, unlike Palestrina, he is also the starting-point of anew development. With Bach the old contrapuntal art, now not vocalmerely but instrumental also and mixed, reaches its climax, and thetendency sets in which leads to the highly complex and dramatic art ofto-day. Palestrina's art is Roman; the spirit of restfulness, ofcelestial calm, of supernatural revelation and supernal beauty broodsover it. Bach's is Gothic--rugged, massive, upward striving, human. InPalestrina's music the voice that speaks is the voice of angels; inBach's it is the voice of men. 

[Sidenote: _Bach a German Protestant. _]

[Sidenote: _Church and individual. _]

[Sidenote: _Ingenuousness of feeling. _]

Bach is the publisher of the truest, tenderest, deepest, and mostindividual religious feeling. His music is peculiarly a hymning of thereligious sentiment of Protestant Germany, where salvation is to bewrought out with fear and trembling by each individual through faithand works rather than the agency of even a divinely constitutedChurch. It reflects, with rare fidelity and clearness, the essentialqualities of the German people--their warm sympathy, profoundcompassion, fervent love, and sturdy faith. As the Church fell intothe background and the individual came to the fore, religious musictook on the dramatic character which we find in the "Passion Music" ofBach. Here the sufferings and death of the Saviour, none the less anineffable mystery, are depicted as the most poignant experience ofeach individual believer, and with an ingenuousness that must foreverprovoke the wonder of those who are unable to enter into the Germannature. The worshippers do not hesitate to say: "My Jesus, good-night!" as they gather in fancy around His tomb and invoke sweetrest for His weary limbs. The difference between such a proclamationand the calm voice of the Church should be borne in mind whencomparing the music of Palestrina with that of Bach; also the vaststrides made by music during the intervening century. 

[Sidenote: _The motet. _]

Of Bach's music we have in the repertories of our best choralsocieties a number of motets, church cantatas, a setting of the"Magnificat, " and the great mass in B minor. The term Motet lackssomewhat of definiteness of the usage of composers. Originally itseems likely that it was a secular composition which the Netherlandcomposers enlisted in the service of the Church by adapting it toBiblical and other religious texts. Then it was always unaccompanied. In the later Protestant motets the chorale came to play a great part;the various stanzas of a hymn were given different settings, thefoundation of each being the hymn tune. These were interspersed withindependent pieces, based on Biblical words. 

[Sidenote: _Church cantatas. _]

The Church Cantatas (_Kirchencantaten_) are larger services withorchestral accompaniment, which were written to conform to the variousreligious festivals and Sundays of the year; each has for afundamental subject the theme which is proper to the day. Again, achorale provides the musical foundation. Words and melody areretained, but between the stanzas occur recitatives and metrical airs, or ariosos, for solo voices in the nature of commentaries orreflections on the sentiment of the hymn or the gospel lesson for theday. 

[Sidenote: _The "Passions. "_]

[Sidenote: _Origin of the "Passions. "_]

[Sidenote: _Early Holy Week services. _]

The "Passions" are still more extended, and were written for use inthe Reformed Church in Holy Week. As an art-form they are unique, combining a number of elements and having all the apparatus of anoratorio plus the congregation, which took part in the performance bysinging the hymns dispersed through the work. The service (for as aservice, rather than as an oratorio, it must be treated) roots in theMiracle plays and Mysteries of the Middle Ages, but its origin is evenmore remote, going back to the custom followed by the primitiveChristians of making the reading of the story of the Passion a specialservice for Holy Week. In the Eastern Church it was introduced in asimple dramatic form as early as the fourth century A. D. , thetreatment being somewhat like the ancient tragedies, the text beingintoned or chanted. In the Western Church, until the sixteenthcentury, the Passion was read in a way which gave the service oneelement which is found in Bach's works in an amplified form. Threedeacons were employed, one to read (or rather chant to Gregorianmelodies) the words of Christ, another to deliver the narrative in thewords of the Evangelist, and a third to give the utterances andexclamations of the Apostles and people. This was the _CantusPassionis Domini nostri Jesu Christe_ of the Church, and had so stronga hold upon the tastes of the people that it was preserved by Lutherin the Reformed Church. 

[Sidenote: _The service amplified. _]

[Sidenote: _Bach's settings. _]

Under this influence it was speedily amplified. The successive stepsof the progress are not clear, but the choir seems to have firstsucceeded to the part formerly sung by the third deacon, and in somechurches the whole Passion was sung antiphonally by two choirs. In theseventeenth century the introduction of recitatives and arias, distributed among singers who represented the personages of sacredhistory, increased the dramatic element of the service which reachedits climax in the "St. Matthew" setting by Bach. The chorales aresupposed to have been introduced about 1704. Bach's "Passions" are thelast that figure in musical history. That "according to St. John" isperformed occasionally in Germany, but it yields the palm ofexcellence to that "according to St. Matthew, " which had its firstperformance on Good Friday, 1729, in Leipsic. It is in two parts, which were formerly separated by the sermon, and employs two choirs, each with its own orchestra, solo singers in all the classes ofvoices, and a harpsichord to accompany all the recitatives, exceptthose of _Jesus_, which are distinguished by being accompanied by theorchestral strings. 

[Sidenote: _Oratorios. _]

[Sidenote: _Sacred operas. _]

In the nature of things passions, oratorios, and their secularcousins, cantatas, imply scenes and actions, and therefore have aremote kinship with the lyric drama. The literary analogy which theysuggest is the epic poem as contra-distinguished from the drama. Whilethe drama presents incident, the oratorio relates, expounds, andcelebrates, presenting it to the fancy through the ear instead ofrepresenting it to the eye. A great deal of looseness has crept intothis department of music as into every other, and the various formshave been approaching each other until in some cases it is becomedifficult to say which term, opera or oratorio, ought to be applied. Rubinstein's "sacred operas" are oratorios profusely interspersed withstage directions, many of which are impossible of scenic realization. Their whole purpose is to work upon the imagination of the listenersand thus open gate-ways for the music. Ever since its composition, Saint-Saëns's "Samson and Delilah" has held a place in both theatreand concert-room. Liszt's "St. Elizabeth" has been found moreeffective when provided with pictorial accessories than without. Thegreater part of "Elijah" might be presented in dramatic form. 

[Sidenote: _Influence of the Church plays. _]

[Sidenote: _Origin of the oratorio. _]

[Sidenote: _The choral element extended. _]

[Sidenote: _Narrative and descriptive choruses. _]

[Sidenote: _Dramatization. _]

Confusing and anomalous as these things are, they find theirexplanation in the circumstance that the oratorio never quite freeditself from the influence of the people's Church plays in which it hadits beginning. As a distinct art-form it began in a mixture ofartistic entertainment and religious worship provided in the earlypart of the sixteenth century by Filippo Neri (now a saint) for thosewho came for pious instruction to his oratory (whence the name). Thepurpose of these entertainments being religious, the subjects wereBiblical, and though the musical progress from the beginning was alongthe line of the lyric drama, contemporaneous in origin with it, themusic naturally developed into broader forms on the choral side, because music had to make up for the lack of pantomime, costumes, andscenery. Hence we have not only the preponderance of choruses in theoratorio over recitative, arias, duets, trios, and so forth, but alsothe adherence in the choral part to the old manner of writing whichmade the expansion of the choruses possible. Where the choruses leftthe field of pure reflection and became narrative, as in "Israel inEgypt, " or assumed a dramatic character, as in the "Elijah, " thecomposer found in them vehicles for descriptive and characteristicmusic, and so local color came into use. Characterization of the soloparts followed as a matter of course, an early illustration beingfound in the manner in which Bach lifted the words of Christ intoprominence by surrounding them with the radiant halo which streamsfrom the violin accompaniment. In consequence the singer to whom wasassigned the task of singing the part of _Jesus_ presented himself tothe fancy of the listeners as a representative of the historicalpersonage--as the Christ of the drama. 

[Sidenote: _The chorus in opera and oratorio. _]

The growth of the instrumental art here came admirably into play, andso it came to pass that opera and oratorio now have their musicalelements of expression in common, and differ only in their applicationof them--opera foregoing the choral element to a great extent as beinga hindrance to action, and oratorio elevating it to make good theabsence of scenery and action. While oratorios are biblical andlegendary, cantatas deal with secular subjects and, in the form ofdramatic ballads, find a delightful field in the world of romance andsupernaturalism. 

[Sidenote: _The Mass. _]

[Sidenote: _Secularization of the Mass. _]

Transferred from the Church to the concert-room, and considered as anart-form instead of the eucharistic office, the Mass has always made astrong appeal to composers, and half a dozen masterpieces of missalcomposition hold places in the concert lists of the singing societies. Notable among these are the Requiems of Mozart, Berlioz, and Verdi, and the Solemn Mass in D by Beethoven. These works represent at oneand the same time the climax of accomplishment in the musicaltreatment and the secularization of the missal text. They are thenatural outcome of the expansion of the office by the introduction ofthe orchestra into the Church, the departure from the _a capella_style of writing, which could not be consorted with the orchestra, andthe growth of a desire to enhance the pomp of great occasions in theChurch by the production of masses specially composed for them. Undersuch circumstances the devotional purpose of the mass was lost in theartistic, and composers gave free reign to their powers, for whichthey found an ample stimulus in the missal text. 

[Sidenote: _Sentimental masses. _]

[Sidenote: _Mozart and the Mass. _]

[Sidenote: _The masses for the dead. _]

[Sidenote: _Gossec's Requiem. _]

The first effect, and the one which largely justifies the adherents ofthe old ecclesiastical style in their crusade against the CatholicChurch music of to-day, was to make the masses sentimental andoperatic. So little regard was had for the sentiment of the words, solittle respect for the solemnity of the sacrament, that more than acentury ago Mozart (whose masses are far from being models ofreligious expression) could say to Cantor Doles of a _Gloria_ whichthe latter showed him, "_S'ist ja alles nix_, " and immediately singthe music to "_Hol's der Geier, das geht flink!_" which words, hesaid, went better. The liberty begotten by this license, though ittended to ruin the mass, considered strictly as a liturgical service, developed it musically. The masses for the dead were among theearliest to feel the spirit of the time, for in the sequence, _Diesiræ_, they contained the dramatic element which the solemn masslacked. The _Kyrie_, _Credo_, _Gloria_, _Sanctus_, and _Agnus Dei_ arepurely lyrical, and though the evolutionary movement ended inBeethoven conceiving certain portions (notably the _Agnus Dei_) in adramatic sense, it was but natural that so far as tradition fixed thedisposition and formal style of the various parts, it should not bedisturbed. At an early date the composers began to put forth theirpowers of description in the _Dies iræ_, however, and there is extantin a French mass an amusing example of the length to whichtone-painting in this music was carried by them. Gossec wrote aRequiem on the death of Mirabeau which became famous. The words, _Quantus tremor est futurus_, he set so that on each syllable therewere repetitions, _staccato_, of a single tone, thus:

[Music illustration: Quan-tus tre---mor, tre-- etc. ]

This absurd stuttering Gossec designed to picture the terror inspiredby the coming of the Judge at the last trumpet. 

[Sidenote: _The orchestra in the Mass. _]

[Sidenote: _Beethoven and Berlioz. _]

The development of instrumentation placed a factor in the hands ofthese writers which they were not slow to utilize, especially inwriting music for the _Dies iræ_, and how effectively Mozart used theorchestra in his Requiem it is not necessary to state. It is a safeassumption that Beethoven's Mass in D was largely instrumental ininspiring Berlioz to set the Requiem as he did. With Beethoven thedramatic idea is the controlling one, and so it is with Berlioz. Beethoven, while showing a reverence for the formulas of the Church, and respecting the tradition which gave the _Kyrie_ a triple divisionand made fugue movements out of the phrases "_Cum sancto spiritu ingloria Dei patris--Amen_, " "_Et vitam venturi_, " and "_Osanna inexcelsis_, " nevertheless gave his composition a scope which placed itbeyond the apparatus of the Church, and filled it with a spirit thatspurns the limitations of any creed of less breadth and universalitythan the grand Theism which affectionate communion with nature hadtaught him. 

[Sidenote: _Berlioz's Requiem. _]

[Sidenote: _Dramatic effects in Haydn's masses. _]

[Sidenote: _Berlioz's orchestra. _]

Berlioz, less religious, less reverential, but equally fired by thesolemnity and majesty of the matter given into his hands, wrote a workin which he placed his highest conception of the awfulness of theLast Judgment and the emotions which are awakened by itscontemplation. In respect of the instrumentation he showed a fargreater audacity than Beethoven displayed even in the much-mootedtrumpets and drums of the _Agnus Dei_, where he introduces the soundsof war to heighten the intensity of the prayer for peace, "_Dona nobispacem_. " This is talked about in the books as a bold innovation. Itseems to have escaped notice that the idea had occurred to Haydntwenty-four years before and been realized by him. In 1796 Haydn wrotea mass, "In Tempore Belli, " the French army being at the time inSteyermark. He set the words, "_Agnus Dei qui tollis peccata mundi_, "to an accompaniment of drums, "as if the enemy were already heardcoming in the distance. " He went farther than this in a Mass in Dminor, when he accompanied the _Benedictus_ with fanfares of trumpets. But all such timid ventures in the use of instruments in the mass sinkinto utter insignificance when compared with Berlioz's apparatus inthe _Tuba mirum_ of his Requiem, which supplements the ordinarysymphonic orchestra, some of its instruments already doubled, withfour brass bands of eight or ten instruments each, sixteen extradrums, and a tam-tam. 

FOOTNOTES:

[H] "Notes on the Cultivation of Choral Music, " by H. E. Krehbiel, p. 17. 

IX

_Musician, Critic, and Public_

[Sidenote: _The newspapers and the public. _]

I have been told that there are many people who read the newspapers onthe day after they have attended a concert or operatic representationfor the purpose of finding out whether or not the performance gavethem proper or sufficient enjoyment. It would not be becoming in me toinquire too curiously into the truth of such a statement, and in viewof a denunciation spoken in the introductory chapter of this book, Iam not sure that it is not a piece of arrogance, or impudence, on mypart to undertake in any way to justify any critical writing on thesubject of music. Certain it is that some men who write about musicfor the newspapers believe, or affect to believe, that criticism isworthless, and I shall not escape the charge of inconsistency, if, after I have condemned the blunders of literary men, who are laymen inmusic, and separated the majority of professional writers on the artinto pedants and rhapsodists, I nevertheless venture to discuss thenature and value of musical criticism. Yet, surely, there must be aright and wrong in this as in every other thing, and just as surelythe present structure of society, which rests on the newspaper, invites attention to the existing relationship between musician, critic, and public as an important element in the question How toListen to Music. 

[Sidenote: _Relationship between musician, critic, and public. _]

[Sidenote: _The need and value of conflict. _]

As a condition precedent to the discussion of this new element in thecase, I lay down the proposition that the relationship between thethree factors enumerated is so intimate and so strict that the worldover they rise and fall together; which means that where the peopledwell who have reached the highest plane of excellence, there also areto be found the highest types of the musician and critic; and that inthe degree in which the three factors, which united make up the sumof musical activity, labor harmoniously, conscientiously, andunselfishly, each striving to fulfil its mission, they advance musicand further themselves, each bearing off an equal share of the goodderived from the common effort. I have set the factors down in theorder which they ordinarily occupy in popular discussion and whichsymbolizes their proper attitude toward each other and the highestpotency of their collaboration. In this collaboration, as in so manyothers, it is conflict that brings life. Only by a surrender of theirfunctions, one to the other, could the three apparently dissonant yetessentially harmonious factors be brought into a state of complacency;but such complacency would mean stagnation. If the published judgmenton compositions and performances could always be that of theexploiting musicians, that class, at least, would read the newspaperswith fewer heart-burnings; if the critics had a common mind and itwere followed in concert-room and opera-house, they, as well as themusicians, would have need of fewer words of displacency and more ofapprobation; if, finally, it were to be brought to pass that for thepublic nothing but amiable diversion should flow simultaneously fromplatform, stage, and press, then for the public would the millenniumbe come. A religious philosopher can transmute Adam's fall into ablessing, and we can recognize the wisdom of that dispensation whichput enmity between the seed of Jubal, who was the "father of all suchas handle the harp and pipe, " and the seed of Saul, who, I take it, isthe first critic of record (and a vigorous one, too, for heaccentuated his unfavorable opinion of a harper's harping with ajavelin thrust). 

[Sidenote: _The critic an Ishmaelite. _]

[Sidenote: _The critic not to be pitied. _]

[Sidenote: _How he might extricate himself. _]

[Sidenote: _The public like to be flattered. _]

We are bound to recognize that between the three factors there is, ever was, and ever shall be _in sæcula sæculorum_ an irrepressibleconflict, and that in the nature of things the middle factor is theIshmaelite whose hand is raised against everybody and against whomeverybody's hand is raised. The complacency of the musician and theindifference, not to say ignorance, of the public ordinarily combineto make them allies, and the critic is, therefore, placed between twomillstones, where he is vigorously rasped on both sides, and whence, being angular and hard of outer shell, he frequently requites thetreatment received with complete and energetic reciprocity. Is hetherefore to be pitied? Not a bit; for in this position he isperforming one of the most significant and useful of his functions, and disclosing one of his most precious virtues. While musician andpublic must perforce remain in the positions in which they have beenplaced with relation to each other it must be apparent at half aglance that it would be the simplest matter in the world for thecritic to extricate himself from his predicament. He would only needto take his cue from the public, measuring his commendation by theintensity of their applause, his dispraise by their signs ofdispleasure, and all would be well with him. We all know this to betrue, that people like to read that which flatters them by echoingtheir own thoughts. The more delightfully it is put by the writer themore the reader is pleased, for has he not had the same idea? Are theynot his? Is not their appearance in a public print proof of theshrewdness and soundness of his judgment? Ruskin knows this foible inhuman nature and condemns it. You may read in "Sesame and Lilies:"

 "Very ready we are to say of a book, 'How good this is--that's exactly what I think!' But the right feeling is, 'How strange that is! I never thought of that before, and yet I see it is true; or if I do not now, I hope I shall, some day. ' But whether thus submissively or not, at least be sure that you go at the author to get at his meaning, not to find yours. Judge it afterward if you think yourself qualified to do so, but ascertain it first. "

[Sidenote: _The critic generally outspoken. _]

As a rule, however, the critic is not guilty of the wrong of speakingout the thought of others, but publishes what there is of his ownmind, and this I laud in him as a virtue, which is praiseworthy in thedegree that it springs from loftiness of aim, depth of knowledge, andsincerity and unselfishness of purpose. 

[Sidenote: _Musician and Public. _]

[Sidenote: _The office of ignorance. _]

[Sidenote: _Popularity of Wagner's music not a sign of intelligentappreciation. _]

Let us look a little into the views which our factors do and thosewhich they ought to entertain of each other. The utterances ofmusicians have long ago made it plain that as between the critic andthe public the greater measure of their respect and deference is givento the public. The critic is bound to recognize this as entirelynatural; his right of protest does not accrue until he can show thatthe deference is ignoble and injurious to good art. It is to thepublic that the musician appeals for the substantial signs of what iscalled success. This appeal to the jury instead of the judge is ascharacteristic of the conscientious composer who is sincerelyconvinced that he was sent into the world to widen the boundaries ofart, as it is of the mere time-server who aims only at tickling thepopular ear. The reason is obvious to a little close thinking:Ignorance is at once a safeguard against and a promoter ofconservatism. This sounds like a paradox, but the rapid growth ofWagner's music in the admiration of the people of the United Statesmight correctly be cited as a proof that the statement is true. Musiclike the concert fragments from Wagner's lyric dramas is acceptedwith promptitude and delight, because its elements are those whichappeal most directly and forcibly to our sense-perception and thoseprimitive tastes which are the most readily gratified by strongoutlines and vivid colors. Their vigorous rhythms, wealth of color, and sonority would make these fragments far more impressive to asavage than the suave beauty of a symphony by Haydn; yet do we not allknow that while whole-hearted, intelligent enjoyment of a Haydnsymphony is conditioned upon a considerable degree of culture, anequally whole-hearted, intelligent appreciation of Wagner's musicpresupposes a much wider range of sympathy, a much more extended viewof the capabilities of musical expression, a much keener discernment, and a much profounder susceptibility to the effects of harmonicprogressions? And is the conclusion not inevitable, therefore, that onthe whole the ready acceptance of Wagner's music by a people isevidence that they are not sufficiently cultured to feel the force ofthat conservatism which made the triumph of Wagner consequent on manyyears of agitation in musical Germany?

[Sidenote: _"Ahead of one's time. "_]

In one case the appeal is elemental; in the other spiritual. He whowishes to be in advance of his time does wisely in going to the peopleinstead of the critics, just as the old fogy does whose music belongsto the time when sensuous charm summed up its essence. There is a gooddeal of ambiguity about the stereotyped phrase "ahead of one's time. "Rightly apprehended, great geniuses do live for the future rather thanthe present, but where the public have the vastness of appetite andscantness of taste peculiar to the ostrich, there it is impossible fora composer to be ahead of his time. It is only where the public areadvanced to the stage of intelligent discrimination that a NinthSymphony and a Nibelung Tetralogy are accepted slowly. 

[Sidenote: _The charlatan. _]

[Sidenote: _Influencing the critics. _]

Why the charlatan should profess to despise the critic and to payhomage only to the public scarcely needs an explanation. It is thecritic who stands between him and the public he would victimize. Muchof the disaffection between the concert-giver and theconcert-reviewer arises from the unwillingness of the latter to enlistin a conspiracy to deceive and defraud the public. There is no need ofmincing phrases here. The critics of the newspaper press are besiegeddaily with requests for notices of a complimentary character touchingpersons who have no honest standing in art. They are fawned on, truckled to, cajoled, subjected to the most seductive influences, sometimes bribed with woman's smiles or manager's money--and why? Towin their influence in favor of good art, think you? No; to feedvanity and greed. When a critic is found of sufficient self-respectand character to resist all appeals and to be proof against alltemptations, who is quicker than the musician to cite against hisopinion the applause of the public over whose gullibility andignorance, perchance, he made merry with the critic while trying topurchase his independence and honor?

[Sidenote: _The public an elemental force. _]

[Sidenote: _Critic and public. _]

[Sidenote: _Schumann and popular approval. _]

It is only when musicians divide the question touching the rights andmerits of public and critic that they seem able to put a correctestimate upon the value of popular approval. At the last the best ofthem are willing, with Ferdinand Hiller, to look upon the public as anelemental power like the weather, which must be taken as it chances tocome. With modern society resting upon the newspaper they might bewilling to view the critic in the same light; but this they will notdo so long as they adhere to the notion that criticism belongs ofright to the professional musician, and will eventually be handed overto him. As for the critic, he may recognize the naturalness andreasonableness of a final resort for judgment to the factor for whosesake art is (_i. E. _, the public), but he is not bound to admit itsunfailing righteousness. Upon him, so he be worthy of his office, weighs the duty of first determining whether the appeal is taken froma lofty purpose or a low one, and whether or not the favored tribunalis worthy to try the case. Those who show a willingness to accept lowideals cannot exact high ones. The influence of their applause is athousand-fold more injurious to art than the strictures of the mostacrid critic. A musician of Schumann's mental and moral stature couldrecognize this and make it the basis of some of his most forcibleaphorisms:

 "'It pleased, ' or 'It did not please, ' say the people; as if there were no higher purpose than to please the people. "

 "The most difficult thing in the world to endure is the applause of fools!"

[Sidenote: _Depreciation of the critic. _]

[Sidenote: _Value of public opinion. _]

The belief professed by many musicians--professed, not reallyheld--that the public can do no wrong, unquestionably grows out of adepreciation of the critic rather than an appreciation of the criticalacumen of the masses. This depreciation is due more to the concretework of the critic (which is only too often deserving of condemnation)than to a denial of the good offices of criticism. This much should besaid for the musician, who is more liable to be misunderstood and morepowerless against misrepresentation than any other artist. A lineshould be drawn between mere expression of opinion and criticism. Ithas been recognized for ages--you may find it plainly set forth inQuintilian and Cicero--that in the long run the public are neither badjudges nor good critics. The distinction suggests a thought about thedifference in value between a popular and a critical judgment. Theformer is, in the nature of things, ill considered and fleeting. It isthe product of a momentary gratification or disappointment. In a muchgreater degree than a judgment based on principle and precedent, suchas a critic's ought to be, it is a judgment swayed by that variablething called fashion--"_Qual piùm' al vento. _"

[Sidenote: _Duties of the critic. _]

[Sidenote: _The musician's duty toward the critic. _]

But if this be so we ought plainly to understand the duties andobligations of the critic; perhaps it is because there is muchmisapprehension on this point that critics' writings have fallen undertheir own condemnation. I conceive that the first, if not the sole, office of the critic should be to guide public judgment. It is not forhim to instruct the musician in his art. If this were always borne inmind by writers for the press it might help to soften the asperityfelt by the musician toward the critic; and possibly the musicianmight then be persuaded to perform his first office toward the critic, which is to hold up his hands while he labors to steady and dignifypublic opinion. No true artist would give up years of honorable esteemto be the object for a moment of feverish idolatry. The public arefickle. "The garlands they twine, " says Schumann, "they always pull topieces again to offer them in another form to the next comer whochances to know how to amuse them better. " Are such garlands worth thesacrifice of artistic honor? If it were possible for the critic towithhold them and offer instead a modest sprig of enduring bay, wouldnot the musician be his debtor?

[Sidenote: _The critic should steady public judgment. _]

[Sidenote: _Taste and judgment must be achieved. _]

Another thought. Conceding that the people are the elemental powerthat Hiller says they are, who shall save them from the changeablenessand instability which they show with relation to music and hervotaries? Who shall bid the restless waves be still? We, in America, are a new people, a vast hotch-potch of varied and contradictoryelements. We are engaged in conquering a continent; employed in a madscramble for material things; we give feverish hours to win thecomfort for our bodies that we take only seconds to enjoy; the momentswhich we steal from our labors we give grudgingly to relaxation, andthat this relaxation may come quickly we ask that the agents whichproduce it shall appeal violently to the faculties which are mosteasily reached. Under these circumstances whence are to come theintellectual poise, the refined taste, the quick and sure power ofanalysis which must precede a correct estimate of the value of acomposition or its performance?

 "A taste or judgment, " said Shaftesbury, "does not come ready formed with us into this world. Whatever principles or materials of this kind we may possibly bring with us, a legitimate and just taste can neither be begotten, made, conceived, or produced without the antecedent labor and pains of criticism. "

[Sidenote: _Comparative qualifications of critic and public. _]

Grant that this antecedent criticism is the province of the critic andthat he approaches even remotely a fulfilment of his mission in thisregard, and who shall venture to question the value and the need ofcriticism to the promotion of public opinion? In this work the critichas a great advantage over the musician. The musician appeals to thepublic with volatile and elusive sounds. When he gets past thetympanum of the ear he works upon the emotions and the fancy. Thepublic have no time to let him do more; for the rest they are willingto refer him to the critic, whose business it is continually to hearmusic for the purpose of forming opinions about it and expressingthem. The critic has both the time and the obligation to analyze thereasons why and the extent to which the faculties are stirred intoactivity. Is it not plain, therefore, that the critic ought to bebetter able to distinguish the good from the bad, the true from thefalse, the sound from the meretricious, than the unindividualizedmultitude, who are already satisfied when they have felt the ticklingsof pleasure?

[Sidenote: _The critic's responsibilities. _]

[Sidenote: _Toward the musician. _]

[Sidenote: _Position and power of the newspaper. _]

But when we place so great a mission as the education of public tastebefore the critic, we saddle him with a vast responsibility which isquite evenly divided between the musician and the public. Theresponsibility toward the musician is not that which we are accustomedto hear harped on by the aggrieved ones on the day after a concert. Itis toward the musician only as a representative of art, and his justclaims can have nothing of selfishness in them. The abnormalsensitiveness of the musician to criticism, though it may excite hiscommiseration and even honest pity, should never count with the criticin the performance of a plain duty. This sensitiveness is the productof a low state in music as well as criticism, and in the face ofimprovement in the two fields it will either disappear or fall under akilling condemnation. The power of the press will here work for good. The newspaper now fills the place in the musician's economy which acentury ago was filled in Europe by the courts and nobility. Itssupport, indirect as well as direct, replaces the patronage whicherstwhile came from these powerful ones. The evils which flow from thechanged conditions are different in extent but not in kind from theold. Too frequently for the good of art that support is purchased bythe same crookings of "the pregnant hinges of the knee" that were oncethe price of royal or noble condescension. If the tone of the press attimes becomes arrogant, it is from the same causes that raised thevoices and curled the lips of the petty dukes and princes, to flatterwhose vanity great artists used to labor. 

[Sidenote: _The musician should help to elevate the standard ofcriticism. _]

[Sidenote: _A critic must not necessarily be a musician. _]

[Sidenote: _Pedantry not wanted. _]

The musician knows as well as anyone how impossible it is to escapethe press, and it is, therefore, his plain duty to seek to raise thestandard of its utterances by conceding the rights of the critic andencouraging honesty, fearlessness, impartiality, intelligence, andsympathy wherever he finds them. To this end he must cast away manyantiquated and foolish prejudices. He must learn to confess withWagner, the arch-enemy of criticism, that "blame is much more usefulto the artist than praise, " and that "the musician who goes todestruction because he is faulted, deserves destruction. " He must stopthe contention that only a musician is entitled to criticise amusician, and without abating one jot of his requirements as toknowledge, sympathy, liberality, broad-mindedness, candor, andincorruptibility on the part of the critic, he must quit the foolishclaim that to pronounce upon the excellence of a ragout one must beable to cook it; if he will not go farther he must, at least, go withthe elder D'Israeli to the extent of saying that "the talent ofjudgment may exist separately from the power of execution. " One neednot be a composer, but one must be able to feel with a composer beforehe can discuss his productions as they ought to be discussed. Not allthe writers for the press are able to do this; many depend uponeffrontery and a copious use of technical phrases to carry themthrough. The musician, alas! encourages this method whenever he gets achance; nine times out of ten, when an opportunity to review acomposition falls to him, he approaches it on its technical side. Yetmusic is of all the arts in the world the last that a mere pedantshould discuss. 

But if not a mere pedant, then neither a mere sentimentalist. 

[Sidenote: _Intelligence versus emotionalism. _]

 "If I had to choose between the merits of two classes of hearers, one of whom had an intelligent appreciation of music without feeling emotion; the other an emotional feeling without an intelligent analysis, I should unhesitatingly decide in favor of the intelligent non-emotionalist. And for these reasons: The verdict of the intelligent non-emotionalist would be valuable as far as it goes, but that of the untrained emotionalist is not of the smallest value; his blame and his praise are equally unfounded and empty. "

[Sidenote: _Personal equation. _]

[Sidenote: _Exact criticism. _]

So writes Dr. Stainer, and it is his emotionalist against whom Iuttered a warning in the introductory chapter of this book, when Icalled him a rhapsodist and described his motive to be primarily adesire to present himself as a person of unusually exquisitesensibilities. Frequently the rhapsodic style is adopted to conceal awant of knowledge, and, I fancy, sometimes also because ill-equippedcritics have persuaded themselves that criticism being worthless, whatthe public need to read is a fantastic account of how music affectsthem. Now, it is true that what is chiefly valuable in criticism iswhat a man qualified to think and feel tells us he did think and feelunder the inspiration of a performance; but when carried too far, orrestricted too much, this conception of a critic's province liftspersonal equation into dangerous prominence in the critical activity, and depreciates the elements of criticism, which are not matters ofopinion or taste at all, but questions of fact, as exactlydemonstrable as a problem in mathematics. In musical performance theseelements belong to the technics of the art. Granted that the critichas a correct ear, a thing which he must have if he aspire to be acritic at all, and the possession of which is as easily proved as thatof a dollar-bill in his pocket, the questions of justness ofintonation in a singer or instrumentalist, balance of tone in anorchestra, correctness of phrasing, and many other things, are meredeterminations of fact; the faculties which recognize their existenceor discover their absence might exist in a person who is not "moved byconcord of sweet sounds" at all, and whose taste is of the lowesttype. It was the acoustician Euler, I believe, who said that he couldconstruct a sonata according to the laws of mathematics--figure oneout, that is. 

[Sidenote: _The Rhapsodists. _]

[Sidenote: _An English exemplar. _]

Because music is in its nature such a mystery, because so little ofits philosophy, so little of its science is popularly known, there hasgrown up the tribe of rhapsodical writers whose influence is mostpernicious. I have a case in mind at which I have already hinted inthis book--that of a certain English gentleman who has gainedconsiderable eminence because of the loveliness of the subject onwhich he writes and his deftness in putting words together. On manypoints he is qualified to speak, and on these he generally speaksentertainingly. He frequently blunders in details, but it is only whenhe writes in the manner exemplified in the following excerpt from hisbook called "My Musical Memories, " that he does mischief. The reverendgentleman, talking about violins, has reached one that once belongedto Ernst. This, he says, he sees occasionally, but he never hears itmore except

[Sidenote: _Ernst's violin. _]

 "In the night . .. Under the stars, when the moon is low and I see the dark ridges of the clover hills, and rabbits and hares, black against the paler sky, pausing to feed or crouching to listen to the voices of the night. .. . 

 "By the sea, when the cold mists rise, and hollow murmurs, like the low wail of lost spirits, rush along the beach. .. . 

 "In some still valley in the South, in midsummer. The slate-colored moth on the rock flashes suddenly into crimson and takes wing; the bright lizard darts timorously, and the singing of the grasshopper--"

[Sidenote: _Mischievous writing. _]

[Sidenote: _Musical sensibility and sanity. _]

Well, the reader, if he has a liking for such things, may himself goon for quantity. This is intended, I fancy, for poetical hyperbole, but as a matter of fact it is something else, and worse. Mr. Haweisdoes not hear Ernst's violin under any such improbable conditions; ifhe thinks he does he is a proper subject for medical inquiry. Neitherdoes his effort at fine writing help us to appreciate the tone of theinstrument. He did not intend that it should, but he probably didintend to make the reader marvel at the exquisite sensibility of hissoul to music. This is mischievous, for it tends to make theinjudicious think that they are lacking in musical appreciation, unless they, too, can see visions and hear voices and dream fantasticdreams when music is sounding. When such writing is popular it isdifficult to make men and women believe that they may be just assusceptible to the influence of music as the child Mozart was to thesound of a trumpet, yet listen to it without once feeling the need oftaking leave of their senses or wandering away from sanity. Moreover, when Mr. Haweis says that he sees but does not hear Ernst's violinmore, he speaks most undeserved dispraise of one of the best violinplayers alive, for Ernst's violin now belongs to and is played by LadyHallé--she that was Madame Norman-Neruda. 

[Sidenote: _A place for rhapsody. _]

[Sidenote: _Intelligent rhapsody. _]

Is there, then, no place for rhapsodic writing in musical criticism?Yes, decidedly. It may, indeed, at times be the best, because thetruest, writing. One would convey but a sorry idea of a compositionwere he to confine himself to a technical description of it--thenumber of its measures, its intervals, modulations, speed, and rhythm. Such a description would only be comprehensible to the trainedmusician, and to him would picture the body merely, not the soul. Onemight as well hope to tell of the beauty of a statue by reciting itsdimensions. But knowledge as well as sympathy must speak out of thewords, so that they may realize Schumann's lovely conception when hesaid that the best criticism is that which leaves after it animpression on the reader like that which the music made on the hearer. Read Dr. John Brown's account of one of Hallé's recitals, reprintedfrom "The Scotsman, " in the collection of essays entitled "SpareHours, " if you would see how aptly a sweetly sane mind and a warmheart can rhapsodize without the help of technical knowledge:

[Sidenote: _Dr. Brown and Beethoven. _]

 "Beethoven (Dr. Brown is speaking of the Sonata in D, op. 10, No. 3) begins with a trouble, a wandering and groping in the dark, a strange emergence of order out of chaos, a wild, rich confusion and misrule. Wilful and passionate, often harsh, and, as it were, thick with gloom; then comes, as if 'it stole upon the air, ' the burden of the theme, the still, sad music--_Largo e mesto_--so human, so sorrowful, and yet the sorrow overcome, not by gladness but by something better, like the sea, after a dark night of tempest, falling asleep in the young light of morning, and 'whispering how meek and gentle it can be. ' This likeness to the sea, its immensity, its uncertainty, its wild, strong glory and play, its peace, its solitude, its unsearchableness, its prevailing sadness, comes more into our minds with this great and deep master's works than any other. "

That is Beethoven. 

[Sidenote: _Apollo and the critic--a fable. _]

[Sidenote: _The critic's duty to admire. _]

[Sidenote: _A mediator between musician and public. _]

[Sidenote: _Essential virtues. _]

Once upon a time--it is an ancient fable--a critic picked out all thefaults of a great poet and presented them to Apollo. The god receivedthe gift graciously and set a bag of wheat before the critic with thecommand that he separate the chaff from the kernels. The critic didthe work with alacrity, and turning to Apollo for his reward, receivedthe chaff. Nothing could show us more appositely than this whatcriticism should not be. A critic's duty is to separate excellencefrom defect, as Dr. Crotch says; to admire as well as to find fault. In the proportion that defects are apparent he should increase hisefforts to discover beauties. Much flows out of this conception of hisduty. Holding it the critic will bring besides all needful knowledge afulness of love into his work. "Where sympathy is lacking, correctjudgment is also lacking, " said Mendelssohn. The critic should be themediator between the musician and the public. For all new works heshould do what the symphonists of the Liszt school attempt to do bymeans of programmes; he should excite curiosity, arouse interest, andpave the way to popular comprehension. But for the old he should notfail to encourage reverence and admiration. To do both these things hemust know his duty to the past, the present, and the future, andadjust each duty to the other. Such adjustment is only possible if heknows the music of the past and present, and is quick to perceive thebent and outcome of novel strivings. He should be catholic in taste, outspoken in judgment, unalterable in allegiance to his ideals, unswervable in integrity. 

PLATES

[Illustration: PLATE I

VIOLIN--(CLIFFORD SCHMIDT)]

[Illustration: PLATE II

VIOLONCELLO--(VICTOR HERBERT)]

[Illustration: PLATE III

PICCOLO FLUTE--(C. KURTH, JUN. )]

[Illustration: PLATE IV

OBOE--(JOSEPH ELLER)]

[Illustration: PLATE V

ENGLISH HORN--(JOSEPH ELLER)]

[Illustration: PLATE VI

BASSOON--(FEDOR BERNHARDI)]

[Illustration: PLATE VII

CLARINET--(HENRY KAISER)]

[Illustration: PLATE VIII

BASS CLARINET--(HENRY KAISER)]

[Illustration: PLATE IX

FRENCH HORN--(CARL PIEPER)]

[Illustration: PLATE X

TROMBONE--(J. PFEIFFENSCHNEIDER)]

[Illustration: PLATE XI

BASS TUBA--(ANTON REITER)]

[Illustration: PLATE XII

THE CONDUCTOR'S SCORE]

INDEX

Absolute music, 36

Academy of Music, New York, 203

Adagio, in symphony, 133

Addison, 205, 206, 208

Allegro, in symphony, 132

Allemande, 173, 174

Alto clarinet, 104

Alto, male, 260

Amadeo, 241

Ambros, August Wilhelm, 49

Antiphony, 267

Archilochus, 213

Aria, 235

Arioso, 235

Asaph, 115

Bach, C. P. E. , 180, 185

Bach, Johann Sebastian, 69, 83, 148, 167, 169, 170, 171, 174, 176, 180, 181, 184, 192, 257, 259, 267, 268, 278, 281, 282, 283, 286, 287, 289; his music, 281 _et seq. _; his technique as player, 180, 181, 184; his choirs, 257, 259; compared with Palestrina, 278; "Magnificat, " 283; Mass in B minor, 283; Chromatic Fantasia and Fugue, 171; Suites, 174, 176; "St. Matthew Passion, " 267, 278, 282, 286, 289; Motet, "Sing ye to the Lord, " 268; "St. John Passion, " 286

_Balancement_, 170

Balfe, 223

Ballade, 192

Ballet music, 152

_Balletto_, 173

Bass clarinet, 104

Bass trumpet, 81, 82

Basset horn, 82

Bassoon, 74, 82, 99, 101 _et seq. _

Bastardella, La, 239

Bayreuth Festival orchestra, 81, 82

_Bebung_, 169, 170

Beethoven, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 44, 46, 47, 49, 53, 60, 62, 63, 70, 92, 94, 101, 102, 103, 106, 113, 120, 125, 131, 132, 133, 136, 137, 138, 140, 141, 146, 147, 151, 167, 182, 184, 186, 187, 193, 195, 196, 203, 208, 232, 292, 321, 322; likenesses in his melodies, 33, 34; unity in his works, 27, 28, 29; his chamber music, 47; his sonatas, 182; his democracy, 46; not always idiomatic, 193; his pianoforte, 195; his pedal effects, 196; missal compositions, 292, 294; his overtures, 147; his free fantasias, 131; his technique as a player, 186; "Eroica" symphony, 100, 132, 136; Fifth symphony, 28, 29, 30, 31, 92, 103, 120, 125, 133; "Pastoral" symphony, 44, 49, 53, 62, 63, 94, 102, 132, 140, 141; Seventh symphony, 31, 32, 132, 133; Eighth symphony, 113; Ninth symphony, 33, 34, 35, 94, 133, 136, 138, 305; Sonata, op. 10, No. 3, 321; Sonata, op. 31, No. 2, 29; Sonata "Appassionata, " 29, 30, 31; Pianoforte concerto in G, 31; Pianoforte concerto in E-flat, 146; Violin concerto, 146; "Becalmed at Sea, " 60; "Fidelio, " 203, 208, 232; Mass in D, 60, 292, 294; Serenade, op. 8, 151

Bell chime, 74

Bellini, 203, 204, 242, 245; "La Sonnambula, " 204, 245; "Norma, " 242

Benedetti, 242

Berlin _Singakademie_, 262

Berlioz, 49, 80, 87, 89, 90, 94, 100, 102, 104, 113, 137, 138, 139, 294, 295; "_L'idée fixe_, " 137; "Symphonie Fantastique, " 137; "Romeo and Juliet, " 90, 94, 139; Requiem, 113, 294, 295

Bizet, "Carmen, " 238, 242

Boileau, 206

Bosio, 241

Boston Symphony Orchestra, 81, 82, 108

Bottesini, 94

Bourrée, 173

Brahms's "Academic overture, " 101

Branle, 173

Brass instruments, 74, 104 _et seq. _

Brignoli, 209, 242

Broadwood's pianoforte, 195

Brown, Dr. John, 321

_Bully Bottom_ in music, 61

Bunner, H. C. , 136

Burns's "Ye flowery banks, " 175

Caccini, "Eurydice, " 234

Cadences, 23

Cadenzas, 145

Calvé, Emma, 242, 247

Calvin and music, 275

Campanini, 242

Cantatas, 290

Cat's mew in music, 52

Catalani, 245, 246

Chaconne, 153

Chamber music, 36, 44 _et seq. _, 144

Chicago Symphony Orchestra, 81, 82, 108

Choirs, 253 _et seq. _; size of, 257 _et seq. _, 264, 271; men's, 255, 260; boys', 261; women's, 261; mixed, 262, 264; division of, 260, 266; growth of, in Germany, 262; history of, in America, 263; in Cincinnati, 264; contralto voices in, 270

Choirs, orchestral, 74

Chopin, 167, 188, 190, 191, 192, 196; his romanticism, 188; Preludes, 190; Études, 191; Nocturnes, 191; Ballades, 192; Polonaises, 192; Mazurkas, 192; his pedal effects, 196

Choral music, 253 _et seq. _; antiphonal, 267; mediæval, 274; Calvin on, 275; Luther's influence on, 276; congregational, 277; secular tunes in, 276, 277; Romanticism, influence on, 277; preponderance in oratorio, 289; dramatic and descriptive, 289

Chorley, H. F. , on Jenny Lind's singing, 243

Church cantatas, 284

Cicero, 309

Cincinnati, choirs in, 264

Cinti-Damoreau, 241

Clarinet, 47, 74, 78, 82, 103 _et seq. _, 151

Classical concerts, 122 _et seq. _

Classical music, 36, 64, 122 _et seq. _

Clavichord, 168, 181

_Clavier_, 171, 173

Clementi, 185, 195

Cock, song of the, 51, 53, 54

Coleridge, 11, 144

Coletti, 242

Comic opera, 224

Composers, how they hear music, 40

Concerto, 128, 144 _et seq. _

Conductor, 114 _et seq. _

Content of music, 36 _et seq. _

Contra-bass trombone, 81, 82

Contra-bass tuba, 81, 82

Co-ordination of tones, 17

Coranto, Corrente, 173, 176

Cornelius, "Barbier von Bagdad, " 236

Cornet, 73, 82, 108

Corno di bassetto, 81, 82

Corsi, 242

Couperin, 168

Courante, 173, 176

Covent Garden Theatre, London, 224, 226

Cowen, "Welsh" and "Scandinavian" symphonies, 132

Cracovienne, 193

Creole tune analyzed, 23, 24

Critics and criticism, 13, 297 _et seq. _

Crotch, Dr. , 322

Cuckoo, 51, 52, 53

Cymbals, 74, 82

Czardas, 201

Czerny, 186

Dactylic metre, 31

Dance, the ancient, 43, 212

Dannreuther, Edward, 129, 144, 187

Depth, musical delineation of, 59, 60

De Reszke, Edouard, 248

De Reszke, Jean, 247

Descriptive music, 51 _et seq. _

Design and form, 16

De Staël, Madame, 210

D'Israeli, 315

Distance, musical delineation of, 60

Dithyramb, 212, 213

"Divisions, " 265

Doles, Cantor, 292

Donizetti, 203, 204, 242; "Lucia, " 203, 204

Double-bass, 74, 78, 82, 94

Double-bassoon, 103

Dragonetti, 94

Dramatic ballads, 290

Dramatic orchestras, 81, 82

_Dramma per musica_, 227, 249

Drummers, 113

Drums, 73, 74, 82, 110 _et seq. _

Duality of music, 15

"Dump" and _Dumka_, 151

_Durchführung_, 131

Dvorák, symphonies, "From the New World, " 132, 138; in G major, 136

Eames, Emma, 247

Edwards, G. Sutherland, 12

Elements of music, 15, 19

Emotionality in music, 43

English horn, 82, 99, 100

English opera, 223

Ernst's violin, 320

Esterhazy, Prince, 46

Euler, acoustician, 317

Expression, words of, 43

Familiar music best liked, 21

Fancy, 15, 16, 58

Farinelli, 240

Fasch, C. F. , 262

Feelings, their relation to music, 38 _et seq. _, 215, 216

Ferri, 239, 240

Finale, symphonic, 135

First movement in symphony, 131

Flageolet tones, 89

Florentine inventors of the opera, 217, 227, 234, 249

Flute, 73, 74, 78, 82, 95 _et seq. _

Form, 16, 17, 22, 35

Formes, 242, 248

Frederick the Great, 263

Free Fantasia, 131

French horn, 47, 106 _et seq. _

Frezzolini, 242

_Friss_, 201

Frogs, musical delineation of, 58, 62

"Gallina et Gallo, " 53

Gavotte, 173, 179

German opera, 226

Gerster, Etelka, 242, 245

Gesture, 43

Gigue, 173, 174, 178

Gilbert, W. S. , 208, 224

Gilbert and Sullivan's operettas, 224

_Glockenspiel_, 110

Gluck, 84, 148, 153, 202, 203, 238; his dancers, 153; his orchestra, 238; "Alceste, " 148; "Iphigénie en Aulide, " 153; "Orfeo, " 202, 203

Goethe, 34, 140, 223

Goldmark, "Sakuntala" overture, 149

Gong, 110

Gossec, Requiem, 293

Gounod, "Faust, " 209, 224, 238, 246

_Grand Opéra_, 223, 224

Greek Tragedy, 211 _et seq. _

Grisi, 241, 242

_Grosse Oper_, 224

Grove, Sir George, 33, 63, 141, 187

Gypsy music, 198 _et seq. _

Hallé, Lady, 320

Hamburg, opera in, 206, 207

Handel, 58, 60, 62, 83, 102, 126, 148, 174, 177, 178, 181, 182, 184, 256, 257, 258, 259, 265, 272; his orchestra, 84; his suites, 174; his overtures, 148; his technique as a player, 181, 182, 184; his choirs, 257; Commemoration, 258; his _tutti_, 258; "Messiah, " 60, 126, 256, 257, 265, 272; "Saul, " 102; "Almira, " 177; "Rinaldo, " 178; "Israel in Egypt, " 58, 62, 257, 259, 289; "_Lascia ch'io pianga_, " 178

Hanslick, Dr. Eduard, 203

Harmonics, on violin, 89

Harmony, 19, 21, 22, 218

Harp, 82

Harpsichord, 168, 170

Hauptmann, M. , 41

Hautboy, 99

Haweis, the Rev. Mr. , 318 _et seq. _

Haydn, 46, 84, 100, 127, 168, 183, 295; his manner of composing, 183; dramatic effects in his masses, 295; "Seasons, " 100

Hebrew music, 114; poetry, 25

Height, musical delineation of, 59, 60

Heman, 115

Hen, song of, in music, 52, 53, 54

Herbarth, philosopher, 39

Hiller, Ferdinand, 307, 310

Hiller, Johann Adam, 258

Hogarth, Geo. , "Memoirs of the Opera, " 210, 245

Horn, 82, 105, 106 _et seq. _, 151

Hungarian music, 198 _et seq. _

Hymn-tunes, history of, 275

Iambics, 175

"_Idée fixe_, " Berlioz's, 137

Identification of themes, 35

Idiomatic pianoforte music, 193, 194

Idioms, musical, 44, 51, 55

Imagination, 15, 16, 58

Imitation of natural sounds, 51

Individual attitude of man toward music, 37

Instrumental musicians, former legal status of, 83

Instrumentation, 71 _et seq. _; in the mass, 293 _et seq. _

Intelligent hearing, 16, 18, 37

Intermediary necessary, 20

_Intermezzi_, 221

Interrelation of musical elements, 22

Janizary music, 97

Jean Paul, 67, 189, 190

Jeduthun, 115

Jig, 179

Judgment, 311

Kalidasa, 149

Kettle-drums, 111 _et seq. _

Key relationship, 26, 129

Kinds of music, 36 _et seq. _

_Kirchencantaten_, 284

Krakowiak, 193

Kullak, 184

Lablache, 248

La Grange, 241, 245

Lamb, Charles, 10

Language of tones, 42, 43

_Lassu_, 201

Laws, musical, mutability of, 69

Lehmann, Lilli, 233, 244, 247

Lenz, 33

Leoncavallo, 228

Lind, Jenny, 241, 243

Liszt, 132, 140, 142, 143, 167, 168, 193, 197, 198, 228; his music, 168, 193, 197; his transcriptions, 167; his rhapsodies, 167, 198; his symphonic poems, 142; "Faust" symphony, 132, 140; Concerto in E-flat, 143; "St. Elizabeth, " 288

Literary blunders concerning music, 9, 10, 11, 12

Local color, 152, 153

London opera, 206, 207, 226

Louis XIV. , 179

Lucca, Pauline, 242, 246, 247

Lully, his overtures, 148; minuet, 179; "Atys, " 206

Luther, Martin, 276

Lyric drama, 231, 234, 237, 251

Madrigal, 274

Magyar music, 198 _et seq. _

Major mode, 57

Male alto, 260

Male chorus, 255, 260

Malibran, 241

_Männergesang_, 255, 260

Marie Antoinette, 153

Mario, 242, 247, 271

Marschner, "Hans Heiling, " 225; "Templer und Jüdin, " 225; "Vampyr, " 225; his operas, 248

Mascagni, 228

Mass, the, 290 _et seq. _

Massenet, "Le Cid, " 152

Materials of music, 16

Materna, Amalia, 247

Matthews, Brander, 11

Mazurka, 192

Melba, Nellie, 204, 238, 245, 247, 271

Melody, 19, 21, 22, 24

Memory, 19, 21, 73

Mendelssohn, 41, 42, 49, 59, 61, 67, 102, 109, 132, 139, 140, 149, 168, 243, 278, 288, 289, 322; on the content of music, 41, 42; his Romanticism, 67; on the use of the trombones, 109; opinion of Jenny Lind, 243; "Songs without Words, " 41; "Hebrides" overture, 59, 149; "Midsummer Night's Dream, " 61, 102; "Scotch" symphony, 132, 139; "Italian" symphony, 132; "Hymn of Praise, " 140; "St. Paul, " 278; "Elijah, " 288, 289

Mersenne, "Harmonie universelle, " 175, 176

Metropolitan Opera House, New York, 203, 224, 226, 244

Meyerbeer, 89, 102, 203, 204, 208, 242, 243, 244; "L'Africaine, " 89; "Robert le Diable, " 102, 208, 244; "Huguenots, " 204; "L'Étoile du Nord, " 243

Military bands, 123

Minor mode, 57

Minuet, 134, 151, 173, 179

Mirabeau, 293

Model, none in nature for music, 8, 180

Monteverde, "Orfeo, " 87

Moscheles, on Jenny Lind's singing, 243

Motet, 283

Motives, 22, 24

Mozart, 84, 109, 132, 145, 151, 168, 183, 184, 195, 202, 203, 221, 224, 228, 230, 238, 244, 265, 292; his pianoforte technique, 184; on Doles's mass, 292; his orchestra, 238; his edition of Handel's "Messiah, " 265; on cadenzas, 145; his pianoforte, 195; his serenades, 151; "Don Giovanni, " 109, 202, 221, 222, 228, 230; "Magic Flute, " 203; G-minor symphony, 132; "Figaro, " 202, 228

_Musica parlante_, 234

Musical instruction, deficiencies in, 9

Musician, Critic, and Public, 297

_Musikdrama_, 227, 238, 249

Neri, Filippo, 288

Nevada, Emma, 204

Newspaper, the modern, 297, 298, 313

New York Opera, 206, 226, 241

Niecks, Frederick, 192

Niemann, Albert, 233

Nightingale, in music, 52

Nilsson, Christine, 242, 246, 247

Nordica, Lillian, 247

Norman-Neruda, Madame, 320

Notes not music, 20

Nottebohm, "Beethoveniana, " 63

Oboe, 47, 74, 78, 82, 84, 98 _et seq. _

Opera, descriptive music in, 61; history of, 202 _et seq. _; language of, 205; polyglot performances of, 207 _et seq. _; their texts perverted, 207 _et seq. _; words of, 209, 210; elements in, 214; invention of, 216 _et seq. _; varieties of, 220 _et seq. _; comic elements in, 221; action and incident in, 236; singing in, 239; singers compared, 241 _et seq. _

_Opéra bouffe_, 220, 221, 225

_Opera buffa_, 220

_Opéra comique_, 223

_Opéra, Grand_, 223

_Opera in musica_, 228

_Opera semiseria_, 221

_Opera seria_, 220

_Opus_, 132

Oratorio, 256, 287 _et seq. _

Orchestra, 71 _et seq. _

Ostrander, Dr. Lucas, 278

"Ouida, " 12

Overture, 147 _et seq. _, 174

Paderewski, his recitals, 154 _et seq. _; his Romanticism, 167; "Krakowiak, " 193

Painful, the, not fit subject for music, 50

Palestrina and Bach, 278 _et seq. _; his music, 279 _et seq. _; "Stabat Mater, " 279, 280; "Improperia, " 280; "Missa Papæ Marcelli, " 280

Pandean pipes, 98

Pantomime, 43

Parallelism, 25

Passepied, 173

"Passions, " 284 _et seq. _

Patti, Adelina, 203, 204, 238, 242, 245, 247

Pedals, pianoforte, 195, 196

Pedants, 13, 315

Percussion instruments, 110 _et seq. _

Peri, "Eurydice, " 234

Periods, musical, 22, 24

Perkins, C. C. , 263

Pfund, his drums, 112

Philharmonic Society of New York, 76, 77, 81, 82

Phrases, musical, 22, 24

Physical effects of music, 38

Pianoforte, history and description of, 154 _et seq. _; its music, 154 _et seq. _, 166 _et seq. _; concertos, 144; trios, 147

Piccolo flute, 85, 97

Piccolomini, 242, 245

Pictures in music, 40

_Pifa_, Handel's, 126

_Pizzicato_, 88, 91

Plançon, 248

Polonaise, 192

Polyphony and feelings, 39

Popular concerts, 122

Porpora, 209

"_Pov' piti Momzelle Zizi_, " 23

Preludes, 148, 174

Programme music, 36, 44, 48 _et seq. _, 64, 142

Puccini, 228

Quail, call of, in music, 51, 54

Quartet, 147

Quilled instruments, 170

Quinault, "Atys, " 206

Quintet, 147

Quintillian, 309

Raff, 49, 96, 132; "Lenore" symphony, 96, 132; "Im Walde" symphony, 132

Rameau, 168

Recitative, 219, 220, 228 _et seq. _

Reed instruments, 98 _et seq. _

Reformation, its influence on music, 275, 278, 280

Refrain, 25

Register of the orchestra, 85

Repetition, 22, 25

Rhapsodists among writers, 13, 315 _et seq. _

Rhythm, 19, 21, 26, 160

"_Ridendo castigat mores_, " 225

Rinuccini, "Eurydice, " 234

Romantic music, 36, 64 _et seq. _, 71, 277

Romantic opera, 225

Ronconi, 242

Rondeau and Rondo, 135

Rossini, 147, 228, 242; his overtures, 147; "Il Barbiere, " 228; "William Tell, " 93, 100

Rubinstein, 59, 152, 167, 168, 287; his historical recitals, 167; his sacred operas, 287; "Ocean" symphony, 59; "Feramors, " 152

Ruskin, John, 302

Russian composers, 134

Sacred Operas, 287

Saint-Saëns, "Danse Macabre, " 101, 111; symphony in C minor, 141; "Samson and Delilah, " 288

Salvi, 242

Sarabande, 173, 174, 177

Sassarelli, 240

Scarlatti, D. , 167, 172, 182; his technique, 172; "Capriccio" and "Pastorale, " 172

Scheffer, Ary, 246

Scherzo, 133, 179

Schröder-Devrient, 232

Schubert, 168

Schumann, 49, 64, 132, 133, 139, 140, 141, 167, 188, 189, 190, 196, 254, 308, 310; his Romanticism, 188; and Jean Paul, 189; his pedal effects, 196; on popular judgment, 308, 310; symphony in C, 132; symphony in D minor, 139; symphony in B-flat, 140; "Rhenish" symphony, 140, 141; "Carnaval, " 189, 190; "Papillons, " 189, 190; "Kreisleriana, " 190; "Phantasiestücke, " 190

Score, 120

"Scotch snap, " 52, 200

Second movement in symphony, 133

Seidl, Anton, 77

Sembrich, Marcella, 242, 245

Senesino, 239, 240

Sense-perception, 18

Serenade, 149 _et seq. _

Shaftesbury, Lord, 311

Shakespeare, his dances, 153, 179; his dramas, 202; a Romanticist, 221; "Two Gentlemen of Verona, " 150; Queen Mab, 90

Singing, physiology of, 215, 218; operatic, 239; choral, 268

Singing Societies, 253 _et seq. _

_Singspiel_, 223

Smith, F. Hopkinson, 11

_Sonata da Camera_, 173

Sonata, 127, 182, 183

Sonata form, 127 _et seq. _

Sontag, 241, 244, 245, 246

Sordino, 90

Space, music has no place in, 59

Speech and music, 43

Spencer, Herbert, 39, 43, 216, 218, 230

Spinet, 168, 170

Spohr, "Jessonda, " 225

Stainer, Dr. , 39, 316

Stein, pianoforte maker, 196

_Stilo rappresentativo_, 234

Stories, in music, 40

Strings, orchestral, 74, 82, 86 _et seq. _, 102

Sucher, Rosa, 247

Suite, 129, 152, 173 _et seq. _

Symphonic poem, 142

Symphonic prologue, 148

Symphony, 124 _et seq. _, 183

Syrinx, 98

Talent in listening, 4

Tambourine, 110

Tappert, "Zooplastik in Tönen, " 51

Taste, 311

Technique, 163 _et seq. _

Tennyson, 9

Terminology, musical, 8

_Théatre nationale de l'Opéra-Comique_, 223

Thespis, 212

Thomas, "Mignon, " 223

_Tibia_, 98

Titiens, 242

Tonal language, 42, 43

Tones, co-ordination of, 17

Touch, 163 _et seq. _

_Tragedia per musica_, 227

Tremolo, 91

Trench, Archbishop, 65, 66

Triangle, 74, 110

Trio, 134

Triolet, 136

Trombone, 82, 105, 106, 109 _et seq. _

Trumpet, 105, 108

Tschaikowsky, 88, 132; "Symphonie Pathétique, " 132

Tuba, 82, 85, 106, 108

"Turkish" music, 97

Tympani, 82, 111 _et seq. _

Ugly, the, not fit for music, 50

United States, first to have amateur singing societies, 257, 262; spread of choral music in, 263

Unity in the symphony, 27, 137

Vaudevilles, 224

Verdi, 152, 203, 210, 228, 236, 238, 242, 243; "Aïda, " 152, 228, 238; "Il Trovatore, " 210, 243; "Otello, " 228, 238; "Falstaff, " 228, 236; Requiem, 290

Vestris, 153

Vibrato, 90

Vile, the, unfit for music, 50

Viola, 74, 77, 82, 92, 93

_Viole da braccio_, 93

_Viole da gamba_, 93

Violin, 73, 74, 77, 82, 86 _et seq. _, 144, 162

Violin concertos, 145

Violoncello, 74, 77, 82, 92, 93, 94

Virginal, 168, 170

Vocal music, 61, 215

_Vorspiel_, 148

Wagner, 41, 79, 80, 81, 88, 89, 94, 111, 205, 206, 219, 226, 227, 232, 235, 237, 238, 244, 248, 249, 250, 251, 303, 305, 314; on the content of music, 41; his instrumentation, 80, 111; his dramas, 219, 226, 227, 248; _Musikdrama_, 227, 249; his dialogue, 235; his orchestra, 238, 250; his operas, 248; his theories, 249; endless melody, 250; typical phrases, 250; "leading motives, " 250; popularity of his music, 303; on criticism, 314; "Flying Dutchman, " 248; "Tannhäuser, " 248; "Lohengrin, " 79, 88, 235, 248; "Die Meistersinger, " 249; "Tristan und Isolde, " 87, 237, 249; "Rheingold, " 237; "Die Walküre, " 94, 237; "Siegfried, " 237, 244; "Die Götterdämmerung, " 237; "Ring of the Nibelung, " 249, 251, 305; "Parsifal, " 249

_Waldhorn, _ 107

Wallace, W. V. , 223

Walter, Jacob, 53

Water, musical delineation of, 58, 59

Weber, 67, 96, 244, 248; his Romanticism, 67; "Der Freischütz, " 96, 225; "Oberon, " 225; "Euryanthe, " 225

Weitzmann, "Geschichte des Clavierspiels, " 201

Welsh choirs, 255

Wood-wind instruments, 74, 77, 78, 95

Xylophone, 111

Ysaye, on Cadenzas, 146

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