Henry F. Gilbert Facing Page 23 Two pages from the orchestral score of Henry F. Gilbert's "The 34 Portrait Bust (from life) of Franz Liszt by Sir Moses Ezekiel 61, 63, 65 "Weimar's Volkslied" by Liszt (Fac-simile of first edition, 1858) Sir Henry Rowley Bishop, 1786–1855 Rutland Boughton Leo Ornstein Psalm-tune containing first printed Sol-fa notation (Marot and 70 78 117 174 187 The earliest known numeral notation (From the Siren cœslestis Extract from Granville Bantock's original sketch for Fifine at the Thou, the Highest. Hymn for Christmastide. Syrian melody TH By WALTER R. SPALDING HERE is so much speculation at present as to the effect of the European War upon American activities and interests in such varied fields as politics, economics and immigration that it is worth while to inquire what the future relation will be between the Continental nations and the fine arts in America, especially in regard to the development of music, which always so vitally represents national sentiment. Speculations or, if possible, definite decisions concerning music are stimulating and clarifying to the mind, for, as we are not dealing with a concrete commodity, we are free from the rigid logic of supply and demand, of questions of utility and expediency, and may consider directly such universal attributes of human nature as emotion, the imagination and ideal aspirations. Discussions as to the nature and purpose of music tend to increase our power of abstract thought (something in which so many people are wofully deficient) and carry us beyond the accidents of time and the ephemeral things of the moment. This present war has certainly made us face such questions as what we are as a people, whether there is such a thing as American national spirit, what valuable contributions we are making to the fine art of living, and what rôle we are to play in the broad scheme of human destiny. In the first place, we are certainly a derived nation as far as the material and tangible aspects of our make-up are concerned; that is, we are of mixed blood; we speak the English language, not that of the aboriginal inhabitants of the country; our social customs and our governmental policies are founded upon those of England, of France, and of other countries; and, notwithstanding certain first-hand scientific and agricultural inventions, we should never have done what we have, had it not been for the point of departure provided for us in the achievements of older civilizations. In literature, painting, sculpture and architecture we have already attained a high degree of independence,-this statement being corroborated by the spontaneous approval of foreign critics given to the creative work of our artists in these fields-but in music, the most elemental of the arts, we are still in our infancy. It is quite easy to eulogize American music, and to insist upon the existence of a national American idiom, but if any comparative estimate is desired between our music and that of the Italians, the French, the Germans and the Russians, we have only to listen to a representative composition of the European nations to be aware of greater warmth and vitality of imagination than are to be found in any work which has come from America. In fact, if Wagner, Brahms and Richard Strauss are placed in the front rank, César Franck, Debussy and Tchaikovsky in the second, and Grieg, Dvořák and Puccini in the third-and this rating, though arbitrary, is not very wide of the mark-America has not yet produced an original composer who could win a place higher than the third rank. This comparison, let it be understood, is not made to minimize or disregard the excellent achievements of a number of American composers, but simply to indicate that as yet our best has not been expressed in music. The most discerning educators, critics, composers and performers are all agreed that there is no subject for which the American public has a more eager and unsatisfied appetite than for music. This is shown by the establishment of local orchestras and opera houses, by the growth of music settlements and by the vast sum which is annually devoted to the production and purchase of musical instruments, compositions and books about music. Much ferment is certainly going on in the public mind; and wherever there is life we may expect growth. As yet, however, native-born Americans have done comparatively little in supplying food for this craving. Let us indulge ourselves in some simple inquiries as to the nature of music. We may then decide whether or not there be any connection between the inherent qualities of this art and certain principles which we claim to be at the foundation of our national existence. Finally, let us ask ourselves whether our remarkable industrial growth is incompatible with a national enthusiasm for such a spiritual art as music, or whether the same constructive imagination which we have devoted to material ends might not achieve marvellous results in more ideal realms. If the latter assumption be true, the present war is furnishing us with a valuable opportunity to free ourselves from the enslaving and dwarfing influence of foreign nations and to establish an American music which shall be genuine because it is a sincere expression of our national ideals and environment. The two fundamental and most vital characteristics of music are its inherent life, shown by the rhythm, and its freedom. Music is not static; it is entirely unhampered by material considerations, but always in motion, like the wind blowing whither it listeth. It is a living organism with a heart like that of a human being. We therefore associate music with life, vigor and enterprize; and biography and history establish a close connection between these attributes of the art and the careers of the great composers. What man has ever surpassed Sebastian Bach in physical, mental and spiritual vitality-the father of twenty children, an eminent worker in every field of music, and in his sixty-five years of life the composer of such a prodigious and varied mass of works that the mind is staggered at the thought of its being the result of individual imagination and industry. The Bach-Gesellschaft has spent many years in collecting and editing his works, probably a third of which is lost; and they are now published in fifty large volumes. The two sublime settings of the Passion music furnish an example of the ratio just mentinoed; it is historically certain that Bach wrote five Passions, of which we have only those according to St. Matthew and St. John. Think of the fiery energy of Beethoven, called by his contemporaries the "little giant;" of the power of concentration and perseverance found in Wagner. Every great composer, indeed, has been a perfect storehouse of energy; and we find the same correspondence, if we widen our comparisons to include national tendencies. Our modern system of polyphonic texture was developed by the Flemish musicians in the very centuries when the Netherlands led the world in commerce, in wealth, and in bold voyages of discovery. It is no meaningless coincidence that the overflowing life of the Italian cities of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, Florence, Venice and Naples, gave to the world such forms as the opera, oratorio and madrigal, as well as the violin (both the instrument itself and a wealth of literature for it) and the beginnings of our orchestra,-in fact, the very foundations of the art as practiced to-day. Inspired compositions in music have never come from an apathetic or anæmic people. It is difficult to imagine the Heroic Symphony or Tristan and Isolde as coming from a Chinese temperament. The second inherent attribute of music is its freedom. It is not an imitative art, has no model or prototype in the realm of nature and but slight affinity with external phenomena, although the chief reason for the permanence of music is that it is founded on the elemental forces of sound and rhythm. Music comes from inside out; a melody has no analogy with anything in the physical world. It is pure fancy expressed in terms of its own being, and as an art has been developed through the workings of free human experimentation. A composer hears sounds within him, the result of his emotional and spiritual experiences. He composes, as they said of Schubert, "in a state of clairvoyance"; and after centuries of experiment which engaged the attention of many of the best minds in Europe, a method has been worked out by which these imaginings may be recorded and communicated to fellow human beings. An original composer is the only truly creative artist, for he makes something out of nothing; his material is not gathered from without. We, therefore, can understand Beethoven's insistence that he be called a tone-poet, that is, a "creator" in the Greek sense of mov, to make, and Liszt's eulogy of Schubert as the most poetic of composers on account of his heaven-born spontaneity. This perfect freedom of music may better be understood by a comparison with the other arts. Architecture and sculpture, for example, are both imitative and utilitarian, and must conform to certain physical laws and wellestablished conventions. A painting, no matter how idealistic and fantastic the artist's imagination, must exhibit some correspondence with the outward world of men and events, although the performances of certain modern schools would seem a proof to the contrary. In reality, however, they beg the question, or rather prove the very point at issue; that is, they are seeking for a perfectly free expression of individual emotion and imagination, but in a less flexible and untrammeled medium than music. A deep truth is contained in the advice of a famous French artist to his pupils that they should become more musical in order to paint more freely. So perfect, indeed, is the connection in music between conception and expression, between substance and form, that music is considered the ideal medium of self-revelation |