Scan 20
Musical Courier 1898-06-15: Vol 36 Iss 954, 1898
49 lines. Read by computer on 21 September 2026. Printed page 19. See the scan on archive.org.
1"Does it contain sufficient harmonic and modulatory fullness and charm?"
2"Is the demand of contrast adequately respected, and the bane of monotony avoided?"
3"Is it written conveniently and sensibly, with regard to the technic of the instrument for which it is designed?"
4"Is its title appropriate?"
5"Does it sound as well as it looks upon paper?"
6This last question strikes me as a peculiarly important one, for there are composers who still work for the eye and not the ear. Harmonic brickmakers I call them, who lay their counterpoint as does the bricklayer his bricks.
7Mr. Goetschius' valuable book answers the above questions in the clearest and most entertaining style. He confines himself to monophonic forms, and I think will give us a book later on polyphonic forms. With the admirable groupings of the subjects and counter subjects—to be technical—the work is simply a boom for the student who has crammed his skull with the hundred dry-as-dust treatises on form—the most of them translated from the German. The examples quoted are copious and at no time is the deadly terminology of the theorist indulged in. As I said, I found the book extremely readable and full of meat, even though the sun blazed aloft and mankind panted with the heat.
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10The second book I referred to also comes from Boston. If I mistake not it is bound to supplant any work written on the same subject. It is from the pen of Adolph Carpé, a specialist in his chosen field, and is an extended treatise on "Grouping, Articulating and Phrasing in Musical Interpretation." There are a score of such systems and expositions, but Riemann, Christiani, Germer and the rest I never found completely satisfying. Mr. Carpé, who is a pianist and a profound student of phrasing, has gone at his theme in the broadest fashion. His chapter on interpretation sets before us the whole subject of grouping, articulating and phrasing. There is nothing of the pedagogue in his definitions, and while there is no lack of analysis, the general grasp is synthetic. For instance, the notation for tone connection and tone separation is examined from the technical side, and Riemann's use of the wedge and the dot is thoroughly considered. But Mr. Carpé does not stop there. He views the question aesthetically, and if the study were not more than an aesthetic consideration of interpretation—it is practical as well—I should be tempted to regard the author as a musical aesthetician of the first rank. He believes, however, in more than speculations of the purely ideal side of his art. His set of examples are remarkably adapted for analytical treatment. All manner of rhythmical problems are set forth, and I can recommend without reserve this book to teachers and to pupils alike. Indeed I intend returning to it at an early day for a discussion of some of Mr. Carpé's ideas on the subject of legato and staccato. The tempo rubato of Chopin and its dangers and merits are carefully studied, and from Bach to the moderns all composers are sympathetically treated. More good summer reading for serious students of music.
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13Fitzgerald, the translator of "Omar Khayyam," was musician and artist—a fair composer of music. He thought Mozart a most universal musical genius. He admired Raphael, Claude and Poussin in art, and of course many others. Writing to F. Tennyson he says: "Now, Beethoven, you see by your own experience, has a depth not to be reached all at once. I admit with you that he is too bizarre, and, I think, morbid. But he is original, majestic and profound. Such music thinks. So it is with Glück and with Mendelssohn. As to Mozart, he was as a musical genius more wonderful than all."
14His "Don Giovanni" he thought "the greatest opera in the world."
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16Richard Mansfield acknowledges that George Bernard Shaw is a clever man, but he is irritated by the brilliant Irishman's conceit. A bit of advice from Shaw that rankles in the actor's breast was the request that he walk through his lines in "The Devil's Discipline" rather than act them. The piece, however, is one of the most successful in Mansfield's repertory. That it is by Shaw galls him. "What do I do," he complained one evening, "but make the public go away and talk about Bernard Shaw?—Bernard Shaw, confound him!" At this a member of the company protested vehemently against Mansfield's ingratitude to Shaw, and added that he ought indeed to thank God every night of his life for so good a play. "So I do," said Mansfield, earnestly—"so I do. I go on my knees every night and do that very thing. I thank God for so good a play. But," he went on, "I also say, 'Oh, God—why did it have to be by Shaw?'"
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19Henry James, the novelist, has just purchased a country house at Rye, Sussex, England, close to the sea. He can take bicycle trips into Kent from the house, and as he is passionately devoted to the country, will probably abandon his handsome chambers in Kensington, London. He is now fifty, and bears his years well; he has a large head, well set on shapely shoulders, a mouth of peculiar charm, and large, dark-blue eyes, keen in their glance. He is extremely modest, and it is torture to him to be in a large company and have his work praised.
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22Sir Hercules Langrishe was a wonder even in the days of four-bottle men. On being found alone with half a dozen empty claret bottles, he was asked, "What, surely you have not got through them without assistance?" "Oh, no!" he replied, cheerfully, "I had the assistance of a bottle of Madeira."
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25Bernard Shaw, by the way, has left the Saturday Review, and his place as dramatic critic is to be filled by Max Beerbohm, an insolent, clever person, who is brother to Beerbohm Tree, the actor. Mr. Beerbohm is given to acting, too. The music critic of the Review is for the present Vernon Blackburn, who writes extremely well, but is without the salty aggressiveness of John F. Runciman, his predecessor. Music criticism in England is exquisite torture. If you tell the truth you go to prison for criminal libel; if you don't tell the truth you go to prison anyhow. It is a country of prudes of the petticoated and prismatic variety. And the Lord deliver us from all prudes!
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28Isidor Philipp has had the courtesy to send me several of his photographs, which reveal him as an artist of considerable intellectual character. I shall treasure them as a souvenir of a remarkably gifted man and one, whom I have heard, of great personal charm.
29His latest publications are of especial interest to lovers of the literature of two pianos. There is a very effective valse-caprice, not difficult, on themes on Johann Strauss. Clever pianists can make this a well-sounding concert piece. The D minor organ prelude and fugue of Bach, also for four hands, has quite a thunderous effect. It is not easy and it is extremely musician-like. Fancy the D flat valse of Chopin for pianos! This is an age of novel experiments. It is very brilliant and exciting. Mr. Philipp's own piece, "Phaleuss," is the airiest scherzo imaginable. To play it requires a wrist of elfin delicacy. I comment it as a study. He has made a set of "Exercises Pratiques as an introduction to his Daily Studies, over which I expended so much admiration a year ago. These new practical exercises sum up in one volume of not quite fifty pages what it took Carl Czerny reams of paper to explain. Mr. Philipp must be a teacher of rare merit. There is a rumor that he contemplates a visit to this country.
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32One evening Countess Waldegrave, who was married four times, appeared at the opera in Dublin during her fourth husband's occupancy of the post of Chief Secretary for Ireland. An audacious Celt, catching sight of her ladyship in one of the boxes, shouted out with Irish temerity: "Lady Waldegrave, which of the four did you like best?" The countess was equal to the occasion. Without a moment's hesitation she rose from her seat and exclaimed, enthusiastically: "Why, the Irishman, of course," a remark which naturally brought down the house.
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35"I took out a living picture show once," said the theatrical manager, "and I had several queer experiences," writes the Chicago Journal.
36"We always had trouble getting suitable music, for one thing. I remember that we struck a certain town where the music was furnished by a seedy, freckle-faced young man, who officiated at one of those bangety-bang pianos. I asked him if he could think of music suitable to each picture as it was displayed.
37"'Oh, yes,' certainly he could, 'and do it impromptu.'
38"The performance opened. He was seated at the piano, and he turned to look at the first picture. It was 'Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.'
39"He didn't hesitate an instant. Like a flash he turned and began pounding out, 'There's Only One Girl in This World for Me.'"
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42"Tell me truly, Shakespeare," said Rubens, genially, "did you write all your own works?" "Tell me truly, Rubens," retorted Shakespeare, "did you paint all your own pictures?" "I did," cried Rubens, hotly, "and with my own hands, too." "What did you pay your hands, Rube?" queried Sir Joshua Reynolds, genially; "I'm thinking of starting an art factory myself."
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45Otto Floersheim's "Suite Miniature" is in the piano arrangement a charming and not too difficult specimen of melodic and ingenious writing for the instruments. The orchestral version has been highly spoken of wherever it was played, at home or abroad. The piano score published by Breitkopf & Härtel gives us a series of little pictures, genuine miniature canvases full of tender color and graceful in feeling. The composer does not attempt more than the water-color, and there is poetic feeling expressed without the aid of overwhelming technical symbols. Naiveté is Mr. Floersheim's chief charm.
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48I don't feel like spinning yarns to-day, but the story from the French of Jules Moinaux, translated by L. S. Vassault, that appeared in the Argonaut recently, is well worth telling. It was called "The Piano Trick," and related the evening spent at the house of a worthy Parisian burgher. This gentleman was stingy, and he had a daughter who played numberless variations on the piano. The fame of a certain M. Vignol having reached him, it struck the prudent papa that he could entertain a company without any extra expense. The intimate friend of Vignol was beseeched to fetch his entertaining companion and finally consented. The company is assembled. Mlle. Agatha plays her repertory. The guests stand it without a murmur. Something special has been promised, and they are patient. At last he arrives, the clever Vignol. He is asked to take something. "I suspected as much," he murmurs to his friend; "they think I have had no dinner." The daughter once more lets herself loose
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