Contemporary American Composers Part 13

Whiting was born in Cambridge, Ma.s.s., June 20, 1861. He studied the piano with William H. Sherwood, and has made a successful career in concert playing with the Boston Symphony Orchestra and the Kneisel Quartette, both of which organizations have performed works of his. In 1883 he went to Munich for two years, where he studied counterpoint and composition with Rheinberger. He is now living in New York as a concert pianist and teacher.

[Music: Idylle.

Arthur Whiting.

Copyright, 1895, by G. Schirmer.

A FRAGMENT.]

Four works of his for the piano are: "Six Bagatelles," of which the "Caprice" has a charming infectious coda, while the "Humoreske" is less simple, and also less amusing. The "Alb.u.m Leaf" is a pleasing whimsy, and the "Idylle" is as delicate as fleece. Of the three "Characteristic Waltzes," the "Valse Sentimentale" is by far the most interesting. It manages to develop a sort of harmonic haze that is very romantic.

For the voice, Whiting has written little. Church music interests him greatly, and he has written various anthems, a morning and evening service, which keeps largely to the traditional colors of the Episcopal ecclesiastical manner, yet manages to be fervent without being theatrical. A trio, a violin sonata, and a piano quintette, a suite for strings, and a concert overture for orchestra complete the list of his writings.

On the occasion of a performance of Whiting's "Fantasy," Philip Hale thus picturesquely summed him up:

"In times past I have been inclined to the opinion that when Mr. Whiting first pondered the question of a calling he must have hesitated between chess and music. His music seemed to me full of openings and gambits and queer things contrived as in a game. He was the player, and the audience was his antagonist. Mr. Whiting was generally the easy conqueror. The audience gave up the contest and admired the skill of the musician.

"You respected the music of Mr. Whiting, but you did not feel for it any personal affection. The music lacked humanity. Mr.

Whiting had, and no doubt has, high ideals. Sensuousness in music seemed to him as something intolerable, something against public morals, something that should be suppressed by the selectmen. Perhaps he never went so far as to pet.i.tion for an injunction against s.e.x in music; but rigorous intellectuality was his one aim. He might have written A Serious Call to Devout and Holy Composition, or A Practical Treatise upon Musical Perfection, to which is now added, by the same author, The Absolute Unlawfulness of the Stage Entertainment Fully Demonstrated.

"There was almost intolerance in Mr. Whiting's musical att.i.tude. He himself is a man of wit rather than humor, a man with a very pretty knack at sarcasm. He is industrious, fastidious, a severe judge of his own works. As a musician he was even in his dryest days worthy of sincere respect.

"Now this fantasia is the outward and sure expression of a change in Mr. Whiting's way of musical thinking, and the change is decidedly for the better. There is still a display of pure intellectuality; there is still a solving of self-imposed problems; but Mr. Whiting's musical enjoyment is no longer strictly selfish. Here is a fantasia in the true sense of the term; form is here subservient to fancy. The first movement, if you wish to observe traditional terminology, is conspicuous chiefly for the skill, yes, fancy, with which thematic material of no marked apparent inherent value is treated. The pastorale is fresh and suggestive. The ordinary pastorale is a bore. There is the familiar recipe: take an oboe the size of an egg, stir it with a flute, add a little piano, throw in a handful of muted strings, and let the whole gently simmer in a 9-8 stew-pan. But Mr. Whiting has treated his landscape and animal kingdom with rare discretion. The music gave pleasure; it soothed by its quiet untortured beauty, its simplicity, its discretion. And in like manner, without receiving or desiring to receive any definite, precise impression, the finale interested because it was not a hackneyed form of brilliant talk. The finale is something more than clever, to use a hideous term that I heard applied to it. It is individual, and this praise may be awarded the whole work.

Remember, too, that although this is a fantasia, there is not merely a succession of unregulated, uncontrolled, incoherent sleep-chasings.

"In this work there is a warmer spirit than that which animated or kept alive Mr. Whiting's former creations. There is no deep emotion, there is no sensuousness, there is no glowing color, no 'color of deciduous days.' These might be incongruous in the present scheme. But there is a more p.r.o.nounced vitality, there is a more decided sympathy with the world and men and women; there is more humanity.

"The piano is here an orchestral instrument, and as such it was played admirably by Mr. Whiting. His style of playing is his own, even his tone seems peculiarly his own, with a crispness that is not metallic, with a quality that deceives at first in its carrying power. His performance was singularly clean and elastic, its personality was refres.h.i.+ng.

He played the thoughts of Mr. Whiting in Mr. Whiting's way.

And thus by piece and performance did he win a legitimate success."

[Ill.u.s.tration: HENRY HOLDEN HUSS.]

Many American composers have had their first tuition from their mothers; few from their fathers. Mr. Huss is one of the latter few.

The solidity of his musical foundation bespeaks a very correct beginning. He was born in Newark, N.J., June 21, 1862. His first teacher in the theory of music was Otis B. Boise, who has been for the last twenty years a teacher of theory in Berlin, though he was born in this country. Huss went to Munich in 1883 and remained three years. He studied counterpoint under Rheinberger, and won public mention for proficiency. At his second examination his idyl for small orchestra, "In the Forest," was produced; and at his graduation he performed his "Rhapsody" in C major for piano and orchestra. A year after his return to America this work was given by the Boston Symphony Orchestra. A year later Van der Stucken gave it at the first of his concerts of American compositions. The next year Huss' "Ave Maria," for women's voices, string orchestra, harp, and organ, was given a public hearing.

The next year he gave a concert of his own works, and the same year, 1889, Van der Stucken produced his violin romance and polonaise for violin and orchestra at the Paris Exposition.

His piano concerto for piano and orchestra he played first with the Boston Symphony Orchestra in 1894, and has given it on numerous occasions since.

Other works, most of which have also been published, are: "The Fountain," for women's voices a cappella; a festival "Sanctus," for chorus and orchestra; an "Easter Theme," for chorus, organ, and orchestra; "The Winds," for chorus and orchestra, with soprano and alto solos; a "Festival March," for organ and orchestra; a concerto for violin, and orchestra; a trio for piano, violin, and 'cello; a "Prelude Appa.s.sionata," for the piano, dedicated to and played by Miss Adele aus der Ohe, to whom the concerto is also dedicated.

This concerto, which is in D major, is a good example of the completeness of Huss' armory of resources. The first movement has the martial pomp and hauteur and the Sardanapalian opulence and color that mark a barbaric triumph. Chopin has been the evident model, and the result is always pianistic even at its most riotous point. Huss has ransacked the piano and pillaged almost every imaginable fabric of high color. The great technical difficulties of the work are entirely incidental to the desire for splendor. The result is gorgeous and purple. The andante is hardly less elaborate than the first movement, but in the finale there is some laying off of the _impedimenta_ of the pageant, as if the paraders had put aside the magnificence for a period of more informal festivity. The spirit is that of the scherzo, and the main theme is the catchiest imaginable, the rhythm curious and irresistible, and the entire mood saturnalian. In the coda there is a reminder of the first movement, and the whole thing ends in a blaze of fireworks.

On the occasion of its first performance in Cincinnati, in 1889, Robert I. Carter wrote:

"It is preeminently a symphonic work, in which the piano is used as a voice in the orchestra, and used with consummate skill. The charm of the work lies in its simplicity. The pianist will tell you at once that it is essentially pianistic, a term that is much abused and means little. The traditional cadenza is there, but it is not allowed to step out of the frame, and so perfect is the relation to what precedes and follows, that the average listener might claim that it does not exist. Without wis.h.i.+ng to venture upon any odious grounds of comparison, I want to state frankly that it is, to me, emphatically the best American concerto."

Huss is essentially a dramatic and lyric composer, though he seems to be determined to show himself also a thematic composer of the old school. In his trio, which I heard played by the Kaltenborn Quartette, both phases of his activity were seen. There was much odor of the lamp about the greater part of the trio, which seemed generally lacking that necessary capillarity of energy which sometimes saturates with life-sap the most formal and elaborate counterpoint of the pre-romantic strata. The andante of the trio, however, displayed Huss'

singularly appealing gift of song. It abounded in emotion, and was--to use the impossible word Keats coined--"yearnful." Huss should write more of this sort of music. We need its rare spontaneity and truth, as we do not need the all too frequent mathematics of those who compose, as Tybalt fought, "by the book."

For the piano there are "Three Bagatelles:" an "etude Melodique,"

which is rather harmonic than melodic; an "Alb.u.mblatt," a graceful movement woven like a Schumann arabesque; and a "Pastoral," in which the gracefulness of the music given to the right hand is annulled by the inexplicable harshness of that given to the left.

For the voice, there is, of course, a setting of "Du bist wie eine Blume," which, save for the fact that it looks as if the accompaniment were written first, is a very pure piece of writing. The "Song of the Syrens" is a strong composition with a big climax, the "Jessamine Bud"

is extremely delicate, and "They that Sow in Tears" has much dignity.

There are two songs from Tennyson, "There is Sweet Music Here" and "Home They Brought Her Warrior Dead," with orchestral accompaniment.

By all odds the most important, and a genuinely improved composition is the aria for soprano and orchestra, "The Death of Cleopatra." The words are taken from Shakespeare's play and make use of the great lines given to the dying Egypt, "Give me my robe, put on my crown, I have immortal longings in me," and the rest. The music not only pays all due reverence to the sacred text, but is inspired by it, and reaches great heights of fervor and tragedy. From Shakespeare, Huss drew the afflation for another aria of great interest, a setting for barytone voice of the "Seven Ages of Man." The problems attending the putting to music of Shakespeare's text are severe; but the plays are gold mines of treasure for the properly equipped musician.

A vivid example of the difficulties in the way of American composers'

securing an orchestral hearing is seen in the experience of Howard Brockway, who had a symphony performed in 1895 by the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, and has been unable to get a hearing or get the work performed in America during the five years following, in spite of the brilliancy of the composition. The scoring of the work is so mature that one can see its skill by a mere glance at the page from a distance. When the work was performed in Germany, it was received with p.r.o.nounced favor by the Berlin critics, who found in it a conspicuous absence of all those qualities which the youth of the composer would have made natural.

Brockway was born in Brooklyn, November 22, 1870, and studied piano with H.O.C. Kortheuer from 1887 to 1889. He went to Berlin at the age of twenty and studied the piano with Barth, and composition with O.B. Boise, the transplanted American. Boise gave Brockway so thorough a training that he may be counted one of the most fluent and completely equipped American composers. At the age of twenty-four he had finished his symphony (op. 12), a ballade for orchestra (op. 11), and a violin and piano sonata (op. 9), as well as a cavatina for violin and orchestra. These, with certain piano solos, were given at a concert of Brockway's own works in February, 1895, at the Sing-Akademie. His works were accepted as singularly mature, and promising as well. A few months later, Brockway returned to New York, where he has since lived as a teacher and performer.

His symphony, which is in D major, is so ebullient with life that its das.h.i.+ng first subject cannot brook more than a few measures of slow introduction. The second subject is simpler, but no less joyous. The thematic work is scholarly and enthusiastic at the same time. The different movements of the symphony are, however, not thematically related, save that the coda of the last movement is a reminiscence of the auxiliary theme of the first movement. The andante, in which the 'cellos are very lyrical, is a tender and musing mood. The presto is flas.h.i.+ng with life and has a trio of rollicking, even whooping, jubilation. The finale begins gloomily and martially, and it is succeeded by a period of beauty and grace. This movement, in fact, is a remarkable combination of the exquisitest beauty and most unrestrained prowess.

Another orchestral work of great importance in American music is the "Sylvan Suite" (op. 19), which is also arranged for the piano. In this work the composer has shown a fine discretion and conservation in the use of the instruments, making liberal employment of small choirs for long periods. The work is programmatic in psychology only. It begins with a "Midsummer Idyl," which embodies the drowsy petulance of hot noon. The second number is "Will o' the Wisps." In this a three-voiced fugue for the strings, wood, and one horn has been used with legitimate effect and most teasing, fleeting whimsicality. The third movement is a slow waltz, called "The Dance of the Sylphs," a very catchy air, swaying delicately in the ba.s.soons and 'cello; a short "Evening Song" is followed by "Midnight." This is a parade that reminds one strongly of Gottschalk's "Marche de Nuit." The march movement is followed by an interlude depicting the mystery of night, as Virgil says, "_tremulo sub lumine_." The composer has endeavored to indicate the chill gray of dawn by the ending of this movement: a chord taken by two flutes and the strings s.h.i.+vering _sul ponticello_.

The last movement is "At Daybreak." Out of the gloom of the ba.s.soons grows a broad and general luminous song followed by an interlude of the busy hum of life; this is succeeded by the return of the sunrise theme with a tremendously vivacious accompaniment.

Other works of Brockway's are: a cantata, a set of variations, a ballade, a nocturne, a Characterstuck, a Fantasiestuck, a set of four piano pieces (op. 21), and two piano pieces (op. 25). All of these, except the cantata, have been published. Two part songs and two songs with piano accompaniment have also been published; a violin sonata, a Moment Musicale, and a romanza for violin and orchestra have been published in Berlin.

These works all show a decided tendency to write brilliant and difficult music, but the difficulties are legitimate to the effect and the occasion. The Ballade works up a very powerful climax; the Scherzino swishes fascinatingly; and the Romanza for piano is a notably mature and serious work.

[Music: Copyright, 1894, by Schlesinger'sche Buch und Musikhandlung (Rob. Lienau), Berlin.

FRAGMENT OF A "BALLADE" BY HOWARD BROCKWAY.]

Two ballads have made the so romantic name of Harry Rowe Sh.e.l.ley a household word in America. They are the setting of Tom Moore's fiery "Minstrel Boy," and a strange jargon of words called "Love's Sorrow."

In both cases the music is intense and full of fervor, and quick popularity rarely goes out to more worthy songs.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Autograph of Harry Rowe Sh.e.l.ley]

[Ill.u.s.tration: HARRY ROWE Sh.e.l.lEY.]

But Sh.e.l.ley would doubtless prefer to be judged by work to which he has given more of his art and his interest than to the many songs that he has tossed off in the light name of popularity.

Sh.e.l.ley's life has been largely devoted to church work. Born in New Haven, Conn., June 8, 1858, and taught music by Gustav J. Stoeckel, he came under the tuition of Dudley Buck for seven years. His twentieth year found him an organist at New Haven. Three years later he went to Brooklyn in the same capacity. He was the organist at Plymouth Church for some time before Henry Ward Beecher's death. Since 1887 he has been at the Church of the Pilgrims. He visited Europe in 1887 and studied under Dvorak when the Bohemian master was here.

Sh.e.l.ley's largest works have been an opera, "Leila," still in ma.n.u.script, a symphonic poem, "The Crusaders," a dramatic overture, "Francesca da Rimini," a sacred oratorio, "The Inheritance Divine," a suite for orchestra, a fantasy for piano and orchestra (written for Rafael Joseffy), a one-act musical extravaganza, a three-act lyric drama, and a virile symphony. The suite is called "Souvenir de Baden-Baden." It is a series of highly elaborated trifles of much gaiety, and includes a lively "Morning Promenade," a dreamy "Siesta,"

a "Conversationshaus Ball," and a quaint "Serenade Orientale" that shows the influence of Mozart's and Beethoven's marches alla turca.

The orchestration of this work I have never heard nor seen. Its arrangement for four hands, however, is excellently done, with commendable attention to the interests of the _secondo_ player.

The cantata is called "The Inheritance Divine," and it is much the best thing Sh.e.l.ley has done. It begins with a long, slow crescendo on the word "Jerusalem," which is very forceful. Sh.e.l.ley responds to an imaginary encore, however, and the word becomes little more than an expletive.

Page 7--to refer more conveniently than technically--is marked by sonorous harmonies of especial n.o.bility. Now begins a new idea worked up with increased richness and growing fervor to a sudden magnificence of climax in the second measure on page 11. The final phrase, strengthened by an organ-point on two notes, is fairly thrilling. A tenor solo follows, its introductory recitative containing many fine things, its aria being smoothly melodious. A chorus, of warm harmonies and a remarkably beautiful and unexpected ending, is next; after which is a sombre, but impressive alto solo. The two successive choruses, the quartette, and the soprano solo catch the composer nodding. The ba.s.s solo is better; the final chorus brings us back to the high plane. Page 62 is particularly big of spirit, and from here on the chorus climbs fiery heights. In spite of Berlioz' famous parody on the "Amen" fugues, in the "d.a.m.nation of Faust," Sh.e.l.ley has used the word over a score of times in succession to finish his work. But altogether the work is one of maturity of feeling and expression, and it is a notable contribution to American sacred music.

In 1898 "Death and Life" was published. It opens with a dramatic chorus sung by the mob before the cross, and it ends daringly with a unisonal descent of the voices that carries even the sopranos down to A natural. In the duet between Christ and Mary, seeking where they have laid her Son, the librettist has given Christ a versified paraphrase which is questionable both as to taste and grammar. The final chorus, however, has a stir of spring fire that makes the work especially appropriate for Easter services.