II
In the field of the symphonic orchestra we meet with Leone Sinigaglia, Riccardo Zandonai, Vittore de Sabbata, Gino Marinuzzi, Franco Alfano, Luigi Mancinelli. In the previous chapter we have dwelt on the music of Zandonai's operas. He is, however, one of those big men who have been moved to do absolute music as well; and he has done several fine things for the concert-hall. Like him, the young de Sabbata, of whom we have spoken, and the older Mancinelli, who is better known as a conductor than as a creative musician, have also contributed to the symphonic literature. The others, barring Alfano, who has done some four unsuccessful operas, are composers of absolute music alone.
Zandonai, Italy's greatest figure, has a symphonic poem, Vere Novo, which must be seriously considered. Though it is really an orchestral piece, the composer has called in the aid of a baritone solo voice in an Ode to Spring, the poem being by the distinguished Gabriele d'Annunzio. In it we find a wonderful command of orchestral effects, an intimate knowledge of the nature of the various instruments and a masterly attention to detail. The strings are subdivided into many parts—and not in vain—and the whole work is unquestionably important. There is also a delightful Serenata Mediovale for orchestra with an important part for a solo violoncello, a composition which has distinction and geniality at the same time. It had a performance in New York at an all-Italian concert several years ago, but since then it has been unjustly allowed to languish.
Franco Alfano, born in 1876, has done a Symphony in E and a 'Romantic Suite,' two compositions that have done much to make his name respected. For those who do not believe that a real symphony has come out of Italy of the twentieth century an examination of this score may well be advised. It will convince even the most skeptical. Alfano's instrumentation is always good and he knows how to develop his material. Picturesque is the suite consisting of Notte Adriatica (Night on the Adriatic), Echi dell' Appennino (Echoes of the Apennines), Al chiostro abbandonato (To an Abandoned Cloister) and Natale campane (Christmas Bells). These four movements are frankly programmatic. They are not profound, but they are engaging, and they should be made known wherever good orchestras exist. When we think of some of the unsatisfactory French orchestral novelties, German works of no especial distinction that have been produced recently, it would seem the duty of conductors to seek out these Italian scores and present them to the public.
In Leone Sinigaglia, a native of Turin—he was born in 1868—Italy has a composer who has done for the folk-music of his province, if not his country, something akin to what such nationalists as Dvořák and Grieg accomplished. Piemonte is the title of a suite, his opus 36, and Danze Piemontese are two dances built on Piedmontese themes. These melodies of the people, indigenous material that has always proved a boon to gifted composers, have been treated by Sinigaglia with rare skill. He has clothed them in an orchestral garb which sets off their virtues most favorably and their popular nature should play an interesting part in gaining for them the approval of concert audiences. His 'Rustic Dance' from the suite Piemonte is thrilling, while in the same suite occurs In Montibus Sanctis, in which there is an invocation to the Virgin, serene and aloof in its inflections. The Piedmontese dances are brilliant, racy compositions, a master's development of tunes born of the soil. In bright and gay spirit, too, is his overture Le Baruffe Chiozzotte after a Goldoni comedy. This glistening little overture has already been played in America and never fails to arouse the good spirits of all who hear it.
Sicily comes in for musical picturing in the work of Gino Marinuzzi, born in 1882, a composer whose name is little known. The average musician is not aware of his existence. Yet this modest musician has produced a symphonic poem Sicania and a Suite Siciliana. What Sinigaglia does with the folk-melodies of his native Piedmont Marinuzzi accomplishes by employing Sicilian tunes. And they are very beautiful, too. After all, the results obtained in working on the folk-music of any people depend on the skill of the artist who is welding them into an art-work. Composers enough have tried to make symphonic works of the crude tunes of our Indian aborigines, but few, with the exception of Edward MacDowell in his 'Indian Suite,' have accomplished works of art by their labors. It is, then, a matter of treatment; and both Sinigaglia and Marinuzzi are well equipped to express in tone their conception of folk-songs in artistic treatment, as their orchestral works prove conclusively.
The boy de Sabbata was born in Trieste in 1892. Saladino and Orefice were his masters at the conservatory in Milan and they taught him well. His orchestral technique matches that of Zandonai already and it is almost impossible to imagine what he will arrive at in the future. His Suite in four movements, Risveglio mattutino (A Morning Awakening), Tra fronda e fronda ('Mid Leafy Branches), an Idilio and Meriggio (Midday), is one of the most amazing orchestral scores we have ever seen. It was written at the age of twenty. De Sabbata is not a Korngold in his musical speech; he is a modern to be sure, but he has none of the qualities which have won for the young Viennese composer such heated discussion. His harmonies are new, yet they do not seem to have been put down with any desire to be different. There is a very distinct personality in this music, and in the third movement of his suite (Idilio) there is some of the warmest writing that has come to our notice in a long time. This young man has imagination, strong fantasy and a keen appreciation of color. At twenty he can say more than most composers at forty. And because he says it in his own way one cannot help thinking that the future will be very bright for him. The only hindrance is his ill health, which is already causing those who are interested in him much concern.
Pietro Floridia, born in 1860, an Italian musician who lives in New York, has written a symphony in D minor, creditable from the standpoint of the student but uninteresting for the public. It has had a performance in New York, where it was cordially, if not enthusiastically, received. Mr. Floridia has also done the operas Carlotta Clepier, La Colonia Libera, Maruzza and Paoletta. Of Luigi Mancinelli's orchestral compositions the Suite Scene Veneziane has been performed in London. They are interesting examples of an Italian whose idiom is post-Wagnerian in the broadest sense. And Alberto Franchetti, better known for his operas, has composed a symphony which Theodore Thomas played shortly after it was composed. Like his other productions it lacks physiognomy totally.
It may not be amiss to digress here to say a word about Signor Marinetti and his Futurist fellows. Their place is not an especially important one in Italy's musical scheme. Their presence does, however, make them come in for consideration. What Signor Marinetti and his colleagues would have music become none of us will be so rash as to endorse. Thus far he has given performances of works of his own invention, using instruments which make hideous and inartistic noises to express his ideas. He calls them 'gurglers,' 'snorters' and 'growlers.' We are not conservative in our taste; we cannot afford to be, for we have with us the very interesting Arnold Schönberg, who is a Futurist in tendencies, though not of the Marinetti type, and Leo Ornstein, whose music is the dernier cri in our development. Ornstein's music seems to have no relation with musical art of the past; he is an impressionist and writes as he feels. He refuses explanations of his music, further than his stating that he is oblivious to all that has gone before in musical composition, and writes what his emotions tell him to, quite as he hears it before ever a note is set to paper. He employs the piano, stringed instruments, the voice, the orchestra, as the case may be. He is therefore obviously not of Signor Marinetti's tribe. There might be some interest in hearing one of the latter's bombardments, but it cannot have any æsthetic value. It must fail as one of those wayward retrogressions which all arts have experienced at some time in their history. From Marinetti we need fear nothing. He will be forgotten long before the next decade rolls round, when his aggressive experiment in what he calls music will have been heartily exploded as the attempt on the part of an iconoclast to fuse a passing madness with a lofty art.