Music

OF circulating musical libraries, — like Schuberth’s or Schirmer’s in New York, Flaxland’s in Paris, Novello’s in London, and many others, where anybody can subscribe by the month or the quarter, and take out two or more volumes, according to the amount of his subscription, — we have as yet none in Boston. We have not heard of a circulating musical library on the MudieLoring principle being undertaken anywhere. It would be a great blessing to many of our music-lovers, especially to those who devote themselves to four or eight hand piano-forte playing, or to part singing, if some such establishment could be set on foot in Boston. But what Boston — and, if we mistake not, most of our great American cities — still more needs is a good library of reference ; a place where the musical student can find trustworthy editions of the works of the great masters, both classic and modern. The institution that ought to take this matter in hand would seem to be the Public Library. The Harvard Musical Association has a fine library of over two thousand volumes, which is kept in the association’s rooms in Pemberton Square; this collection (which is one of the finest, if not the finest, in the country) is rich in works of the old Italian and English masters, and almost complete in the works of German masters of the classic period, but it is very poor in works of the post-classic period. Besides, it is a private collection, open only to members of the association. The Boston Public Library has some few volumes of music: the scores of Sebastian Bach’s works in the great Breitkopf und Härtel edition, some few of Händel’s scores, the scores of some of Mozart’s symphonies, and one volume of Carissimi’s oratorios; other full scores we have not been able to find; there are also some piano-forte scores of choral and dramatic works of Beethoven, Bennett, Gluck, Gounod, Haydn, Meyerbeer, Mendelssohn, and Weber (notably the French edition of the Freischütz with Berlioz’s recitatives, which is a curiosity), and some few piano-forte and organ works of Liszt, Chopin, Schubert, Schumann, and one or two others, but the merest scattered collection, in no way approaching to completeness. Of Allegri, Astorga, Baltazzarini, Cavalli, Durante, Frescobaldi, Graun, Guglielmi, Adam de la Hale, Hasse, Hans Leo Hassler, Jomelli, Josquin des Près, Lulli, Marcello, Monteverde, Palaestrina, Pergolese, Rameau, the two Scarlattis, Stradella, Spontini, Cherubini, Halévy, Auber, Boieldien, Hérold, Bargiel, Brahms, Berlioz, Max Bruch, Gade, Goldmark, Félicien David, Massenet, Raff, Reyer, Rheinberger, Saint-Saëns, and Wagner, there is not a note in either form. For the Boston Public Library to keep a collection of piano-forte music, or piano-forte arrangements of choral or orchestral works, for public circulation would be ridiculous. Also the wear and tear that piano-forte music, either bound or in sheet form, is liable to, is immense. But the case is very different with a standard library of reference, a collection of the full orchestral and choral scores of the principal ancient and modern masters. As such works are, in general, very costly, these scores should not be allowed to go out of the library, though everybody should be free to consult them there. In cases of urgency, for instance, if any one should wish to make a piano - forte or organ transcription from some work, he might be allowed to take it home, “ by special permission.” as is the case with books marked with an asterisk in the Bates Hall catalogue. Now that our public schools are giving so much attention to music, and that conservatories and special music-schools are springing up on every hand, it is more than probable that the number of music students will largely increase. As matters now stand, there is no opportunity for the music student, especially for the student of musical history, to pursue his studies otherwise than by the aid of text-books. Such a thing as studying the great masters (either old or new) through their works is out of the question. This is to a great extent true with the other arts, but there there is more excuse for it. The works of the great painters cannot be reduplicated, and really fine plaster casts are not so easily obtained ; but orchestral scores are just as easy to get and keep as any other books are. And be it remembered that it is only through their full scores that composers can be really studied to any purpose; piano-forte transcriptions are extremely useful in their way, indeed to the special pianist they may be technically interesting, but they are of little value to the general musicstudent. Would it not be well for those who have the needful powers to take this question of a musical library into consideration ?

— In the first series of concerts that Dr. von Bülow gave in Boston, the public had a very fair chance of coming to some not unintelligent conclusion as to the great pianist’s powers. Excepting concerted chamber music, his programmes comprised almost every phase of piano-forte playing worthy of a really great pianist. Schumann, Mozart, and Händel are the only important names not represented in the list.

In the playing of all these various compositions, the thing that struck us most forcibly was the perfection of balance. Never was a man better poised nor with great qualities more beautifully blended than von Bülow. In reading the many notices of his playing that have appeared in Boston and New York papers, we must confess to some surprise at the very general tendency there seems to be to deny him any expressive power in playing; fault has been found with his touch, as wanting in sympathetic power. That he is moderate, at times perhaps over-moderate, in the use he makes of what musicians call the means of expression, is very true, but we cannot see that he ever fails to gain the ends of expression. We cannot find him unsympathetic. He is, on the contrary,sympathetic to a very high degree. In spite of his military bearing, and the autocratic attitude he habitually stands in in relation to his coworkers and subordinates, his attitude toward his listeners is eminently one of equality, most brotherly and sympathetic; his playing is a cordial invitation, as it were, to follow him into the highest realms of music. Some men cannot feel the presence of power unless it strikes them palpably between the eyes and sends them reeling. Indeed, many artists seem to be of this way of thinking, and stand on the concert platform like so many artillery batteries, for the subjugation of their audience. Their listeners are subdued by them, willingly enough, to be sure, and the faster and sharper the shot, fall the better they like it. But this calling forth of violent emotions is not the highest province of art. There is a music which elevates the whole man at once, entices his whole being into a higher atmosphere ; he enjoys calmly, with dignity, but intensely and largely ; his pleasure is beautifully cosmic and well-ordered. Now to our mind, von Bülow has this power in a very marked degree ; his power is so powerful, his effect upon us is so easily worked, that we only feel the result, without thinking of the force that works it. “ Hm ! I knew all that before,” said a man once, coming out from a lecture by Emerson. But did he know it ? Equally wide of the mark is the man who tries to base this extraordinary power of von Bülow’s upon mere stolidity of nature and absence of passion ! The strong, violent qualities are present, but held in solution. The most violent acids and alkalies make the most stable compounds. There was a time when Liszt said of von Bülow, speaking to a friend, “ Bülow is certainly a very great pianist, but I must confess that sometimes I can hardly tell what he is playing,” This Sturm und Drang period, however, has passed. It is remarkable that this moderate use of strong effects should be found in one of the greatest virtuosos living, the pupil and intimate friend of the greatest piano-forte virtuoso that ever lived. In the fortnight that von Bülow played here we remember only a single instance in which his virtuosity got the better of his musicianship. That was in the short, running cadenza in first movement of the Beethoven E-flat concerto (first line of page 34, Breitkopf und Härtel edition), where he introduced a double-handed trill in the lower part of the keyboard which sounded, to our ears, at least, totally at variance both with the spirit of the work and his playing of the rest of it. But only one piece of bad taste in a fortnight ! What other pianist can show as good a record ?

Of the great pianist’s second visit to our city, during which he played chamber-music for piano-forte and strings (in which he was admirably seconded by the Philharmonic Club, with Mr Bernhard Listemann at the first violin), and piano-forte solos, little new can be written, save a review of the new compositions that he introduced to our public. The novelties produced were a quintette for piano-forte and strings by Joachim Raff, another by Saint-Saëns, a quartette for pianoforte and strings by Joseph Rheinberger, and a formidable series of piano-forte variations, on a theme by Händel, by Johannes Brahms. The Philharmonic Club also played a new string quartette by Robert Tschaikowski. Among the more familiar compositions that von Bülow played, we would notice as most prominent Beethoven’s Sonata Appassionato, which has been too little heard here of late. Although we should think twice before indorsing Berlioz’s rather over-enthusiastic estimate of the work, which he calls “ a work greater than his [Beethoven’s] grandest symphonies, greater than all else that he wrote, and consequently superior to all that the art of music has ever produced,” it certainly stands very near the head of the great composer’s piano-forte works. We ourselves must confess to finding still higher qualities, or perhaps we should say the same high qualities carried to a grander and more perfect pitch of organic development, in the Waldstein Sonata, opus 53, the stupendous Sonata in B-flat, opus 106, and the Sonata, opus 111. But after all, this may be because we are less familiar with the Appassionata than with any of the other sonatas. Von Bülow’s playing of it simply beggars description. Among other familiar things he also played Bach’s Chromatic Fantasie and Fugue, the Italian Concerto, Beethoven’s Sonata in E-flat, opus 31, Chopin’s Ballade in B-flat, and Schumann’s Faschingssehwank. Mozart’s quartette for piano-forte and strings, and a most fascinating piano-forte sonata, must probably come under the head of novelties. Here we would mention the first thing in von Bülow’s playing that we find ourselves forced to take exception to, that is, his playing of the last movement of the Bach Italian Concerto. The reader is at liberty to take our criticism with modifications, but although we are as familiar with the Italian Concerto as we are with anything in the whole range of piano-forte music, and have become by this time pretty familiar with von Bülow’s style, we could make neither head nor tail out of the movement at the lightning tempo in which he played it. We listened most attentively, and, as may well be supposed, with every disposition to admire, but could catch neither accent nor rhythm; the very theme itself was hardly to be recognized! The Brahms variations on a theme from Händel’s D-minor Suite are indeed superb, and the performance was the most marvelous exhibition of sustained power, both physical and intellectual, that we have ever witnessed. Some one has said of these variations that they are about as interesting as a Chinese puzzle. With our very limited knowledge of what high æsthetic developments Chinese puzzles are susceptible of, we must differ from him. To us they seemed full of beauty, fire, and inspiration. The statistically-minded reader may be glad to know that these variations are the most difficult piece that has yet been written for the instrument. Of the new concerted pieces we are far from being in a condition to speak finally. Of the three, we as yet prefer the Saint-Saëns quintette. Saint-Saëns has veritably come to us this winter as a new light of rare brilliancy. Mr. Theodore Thomas has given us two short symphonic poems of his, Le Rouet d’Omphale and Danse Maccabre; Mr. B. J. Lang has played his second pianoforte concerto, and the Harvard Musical Association promises us a third symphonic poem, Phaëton. In these compositions we discern a perfection of form, a fire, a wealth of melody, and a command of orchestral resources fully equal to anything in the same or similar forms that we know of by any contemporary German composer. Added to this, Saint-Saëns has a graceful lightness of touch that we look for in vain in German writers. It may sound exaggerated, but is nevertheless to a certain extent true, that the only Germans who ever possessed this invaluable quality to a transcendent degree were Mozart and Heine. High poetic feeling, deep earnestness, dramatic power, sentiment, passion, we find no lack of in Brahms, Raff, and Rheinberger; but this dainty power of saying just enough, of being facile without being diffuse, we do not find in them. Raff comes nearest it, but he comes in a bad second at best. It were idle to speculate upon how much Saint-Saëns owes to Hector Berlioz. What composer of the present day, especially what Frenchman, is not largely in Berlioz’s debt? The Raff quintette is full of fire, originality, and beauty, as is also the Rheinberger quartette, the finale of which is simply superb.

Of the brilliant success of Mr. John K. Paine’s first symphony, of Miss Amy Fay, Mr. Lang’s playing of the Saint-Saëns Concerto, Mr. H. G. Tucker’s triumphantly easy and musically well-considered playing of Schumann’s almost impossible pianoforte allegro, opus 134, Spohr’s “ Divine and Earthly” symphony, and Rubinstein’s new concerto, we must defer writing until next month.

— Carl Prüfer has just published a very handsome complete edition of Carl Reinecke’s Hausmusik¹ for the piano - forte. We know of no more fascinating collection of easy little pieces than this. If there are any more charming than the rest, we should choose the Canzonetta, the Minuett, and the Peasant’s March, with its odd bass, that so comically mimics the old country doublebass player losing his place every now and then, and coming in wrong.

— We have before us the first number of an album of Scandinavian national songs ² that is publishing every month in Chicago. To judge from this number, it is a most excellent work. The songs are printed with the original Swedish, Norwegian, or Danish words, and an English translation. We will say again, — it cannot be said too often, — that all publications of songs of this class should receive every encouragement at the hands of the more musical portion of our public. We wonder, by the way, whether the composer of Die Wacht am Rhein had ever heard the Danish Kong Christjan before he wrote his own song.

— O Blushing Flowers of Krumley ³ is an entirely charming song by Julius Eichberg. It is seldom that we see now anything so naturally and intrinsically musical as this song; there is not a note in it but has its own divine right of being. It is beyond comparison with any original song that we have seen for a long while.

— Foreboding,⁴ by the same composer, is also excellent, and shows much real strength of feeling in its restless, passionate gloominess. Yet we cannot but think it inferior to the foregoing song in genuine spontaneous inspiration. The edition has some bad misprints.