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Musical Courier 1901-11-27: Vol 43 Iss 1131, 1901
50 lines. Read by computer on 21 September 2026. Printed page 11. See the scan on archive.org.
1THE MUSICAL COURIER.
3they never were, lost in the night and under "drums and trampling."
5He is an aristocrat in his cool disdain for that which he calls vulgar. He is brave in the open expression of his views, nor does he spare the feelings of those who think otherwise. His handwriting is precise, cold, elegant.
7All these qualities, all that he has absorbed from reading, picture viewing, closeness to nature, are felt in his music. His melody, even when it comes from folk-song, is inclined to be short and bitter. He walks far to avoid a commonplace where a commonplace might be a welcome relief. At times his harmonic progressions are evidently labored. Perhaps Mr. D'Indy would consider sweat to be a vulgar word as well as action; but it would not be just to say that he ever glows over his work. I like to think of him with drawn, pale face, agonized in his attempt to escape an expected cadence or a too familiar succession of chords. The Baron Grimm said of Grétry, "He is young; he looks pale, wan, a sufferer, anxious—all the symptoms of a man of genius." I am sure D'Indy answered this description when he was composing this piano quartet, in which he appears as a man of a very high order of talent, if genius be denied him. For the most part there is the clearness of expression that is—or rather was—a characteristic of French music, and which Saint-Saëns possesses in eminent degree. The workmanship is admirable throughout. The second movement is nobly sombre in its mood of contemplation. The finale is irresistible in spirit. In the whole work there is no sensuous phrase; there is no juggling with rhythm; there is no apparent desire to fascinate or startle. The style is ebon, not purple. The only extravagance lies toward seriousness. The performance was excellent, and Mrs. Helen Hopekirk, the pianist, deserved her share of the applause.
9I mentioned some time ago the "Revue d'Histoire et de Critiques Musicales," published in Paris. It displays a long list of "Adhérents et Collaborateurs" on the title page, but the articles are chiefly by two or three men. The number for October contains pages of a humorous nature, but the writer himself did not intend them to be funny.
11He takes to task Mr. Riemann, of the new "History of Music Since Beethoven," for his views concerning Saint-Saëns: Riemann judged the French composer too severely and with prejudice. The writer then adds that if Riemann's opinion were general beyond the border, it was the fault of French publishers who will not sell cheap editions of the best French music.
13He wrote to celebrated musicians of foreign lands, "for the judgment of strangers is contemporaneous posterity." They sent on their opinion in writing.
15Max Bruch gave Saint-Saëns an excellent recommendation, which might be used in application for a job at a conservatory or presented to a festival committee in search of a new work, especially for the dedication of a new hall.
17Siegfried Wagner wrote that he hoped to hear "Samson" at Berlin, but the performance was put off. He admires a piano concerto, but he doesn't know the number or the key. There is a touching allusion to Grandpa Liszt, and then Siegfried ends his letter with this burst: "Nothing could be of more interest to the composer or of use to the public or of greater moral and artistic importance for the musician-critic himself, than a minute and impartial criticism of the work of his contemporaries."
19Mr. Rodenkirchen, of Cologne, knows the organ works of Saint-Saëns, "a worthy pupil of his great master and teacher, Gounod," and he is always glad to see his name on a program. Mr. Dingenkirchen, of Münster, locks his opinion, like a Homeric hero, in his shaggy breast, nor does he allow it to escape the barriers of his teeth.
21Emile Sjögren is known, and he states that Saint-Saëns' music is popular in Sweden, and that he holds a high place among the musicians of France.
23But did you ever hear of these eminent musical authorities: Di San Martino e Valperza, Oscar Chilesotti, Ippolito Valetta, G. Zuelli, E. Candella and Suarez Bravo? Yet they write letters which are published in withering rebuke of the presumptuous Riemann. Mr. Candella says without turning a hair that Saint-Saëns, with Berlioz, is the greatest modern reformer in music that France has ever possessed. "Has ever possessed" and "modern" are hard to construe in the same sentence.
25Then there is our old friend, the man who does not wish his name to be published. Sometimes he is at Washington, D. C., and has exclusive information concerning a political measure. Sometimes he is on Cape Cod and could tell why a trained nurse wished to kill her patient by poisoning her gruel. He is of all times; he is everywhere. Some picture him as a tall, robust person, rather bald, with a brass voice, high collar, red face, flopping ears and a small wart on his nose; but I like to think of him as a sheep-faced little fellow, with sandy hair, butter eyes, thin, waving whiskers and a chin like a poached egg. The type may be described as a paper bag blown up with wind. A wise ass is this "gentleman who did not wish his name to be mentioned." This time he lives in Belgium and has his little say.
27It was a curious idea, this sending out for opinions. It was worthy of the publishers of a great American novel. say "Old Poindexter," by Amos Parsons Belcher, with endorsements: "Our mothers should read it," the Rev. Darius Tarbox Griggs; "Balzac never wrote like this," John Thompson Thompson; "Mr. Belcher is the greatest analyst as well as the most powerful writer in the literature of all countries," Laura Lorena Buckalew. Has Saint-Saëns framed the originals?
29I miss the names of certain eminent men whose opinion is revered by our leading patrons and patronesses of music—the Damrosch brothers and B. J. Lang. Is it possible that they were not invited to contribute?
31It might be said with fairness that Saint-Saëns is a master of uncommon musical equipment, clearness in expression, logic, exquisite taste, tonal color. He is ingenious and shrewd. On the other hand he is not truly imaginative and he is seldom emotional. The music is like the man, polished, intelligent, elegant, fastidious. His melody is without warmth or perfume or savor; it is like an opening at chess, chiefly valuable for contrapuntal complications that may result therefrom. His technical skill leads him into deserts of development. Take his most characteristic songs—"The Drummer's Betrothed" or the "Pas d'armes du Roi Jean"—the hearer is never moved; in the former he is delighted with the cunningly devised orchestration, in the latter he keeps saying to himself, "Amazingly clever." Yes, Saint-Saëns' music is generally clever. His admired G minor Concerto for piano is clever and elegant, and at the beginning there is an excellent imitation of Bach. The canon is clever in the last act of "Samson and Delilah." The symphonic poems are clever. I prefer a little dash of coarse, homely, human emotion.
33The program of the fifth symphony concert last night in Symphony Hall included Goldmark's overture, "In the Spring," Godard's Concerto Romantique for violin, and Tanéieff's Symphony in C, which was played here for the first time.
35Goldmark's Overture is a favorite winter piece. It was first performed at Vienna in December, and if you look over the concert records of various cities you will find that it seldom, if ever, is played even in March.
37Godard's Concerto sounds old-fashioned, and it may be put away with tokens and keepsakes and other annuals that for a season bloomed with steel engravings of simpering and ringleted ladies with high foreheads, red, pouting lips, and long tapering fingers. The Canzonetta has a pretty salon grace and piquancy, but the rest is romantic in the narrow, restricted meaning, and is resigned to the burial which it has long expected. Otto Roth, who played it, has not been heard as a soloist for some years at these concerts. Possibly for this reason his performance was nervous and tame.
39I wish someone would set the two Tanéieffs in their respective and proper places. There is Serge or Sergei I. Tanéieff, of Moscow, who has written some string quartets, choruses, an opera, "L'Orestie"—I think Mr. Gericke introduced the overture of this opera to you in New York last season—and this symphony. This Tanéieff is said by Riemann to be an excellent pianist, and I am told that it is he who edited some of Tchaikowsky's posthumous works. He was for a time at the head of the Moscow Conservatory, where he had been for some years the teacher of composition. Then there is an amateur mentioned by Pougin ("Essai historique sur la Musique en Russie," Turin, 1897), an Alexandre S. Tanéieff, who has written several works, among them two suites for orchestra.
41But where is the confusion? you may ask. Because the suite played in Munich last season was attributed to Serge, and when Suite, op. 9, by Alexandre Tanéieff was played in Dresden in 1899, the biographical sketch fitted the author of the symphony and not the amateur.
43The younger of the modern Russian School do not follow in the beliefs of the old advance guard who swore solemnly that there was nothing more to be done with the symphony. Even Balakireff himself a few years ago produced a symphony in C which is said to be clean shaven and eminently respectable. Rimsky-Korsakoff, Borodin, Cui—they all wrote symphonies against their earlier convictions. Glazounoff wrote five or six before he gave himself up to the ballet. Scriabine comes with his gigantic machine with solo voices and chorus, Liapounoff with his in B minor, and Kalinnikoff, who died lately when he was hardly more than a youth, left behind him.
45I like my Russian wild and gamy, even when he is a conservatory professor. I do not like him Germanized or with knees knocking together at the thought of the traditions. Nor do I take it amiss if his breath smells of vodka, or if he proceeds to cover the sacred images if a woman enters the room. There was a tragic gloom and wildness about the overture to "L'Orestie" that pleased me mightily; but this symphony is painfully free from any exhibition of imagination. The themes of the first movement are inconspicuous, and the development is precise. The slow movement ends prettily, but it is without originality of thought, and any emotion is superficial. The scherzo is by far the best movement in conception and orchestral dress. Here the composer really speaks above a whisper his own thoughts. The finale, in which side drum, cymbals and triangle are introduced, begins with a march movement; there is a short "Cossack Oriental" episode which is not displeasing, and then soon after is one of the most vulgar bursts of beer garden sentimentalism in the long catalogue of atrocious platitudes. Nor had Tanéieff given any hint that he was about to perpetrate such a deed. That night I heard no more. Let me add that the symphony calls for three flutes, three clarinets, a double bassoon, a tuba, besides the extra pulsatile instruments above named.
47Ernest Tissot contributed an article, "Jenny Lind; or, the Modern Saint Cecilia," to the Revue Hebdomadaire. I was struck by this passage. She wished to endow foundling asylums. Tissot writes: "She then exposed her plan to God and accepted the proposition of Mr. Barnum."
49PUPIL OF PARSON PRICE.—Miss Vera Zalence, a talented pupil of J. W. Parson Price, will soon appear in concert and opera. Miss Zalence has a good soprano voice.
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