VII
The England of the last half of the nineteenth century has left us little that we can treasure in song music. Easily the most popular composer of the time was Sir Arthur Sullivan (1842-1900), who wrote the music of the inimitable Gilbert and Sullivan operettas, which are quite as perfect in their way as Mozart’s operas. If we were to include in this list the songs from these pieces we should have a song literature altogether remarkable and charming. But outside of his stage works Sullivan was surprisingly cheap in his vocal music. It is hard to explain the quantity of songs he put out which would hardly have been a credit to a low-class music hall. They are for the most part unbelievably sentimental and commonplace. A few of his less popular songs, however (for example, the ‘Arabian Love Song’ and ‘O Fair Dove, O Fond Dove’), showed an effort at artistic creation, and among the popular ones we may find a handful, such as ‘Sweethearts,’ which are tolerable. But in this description we have omitted one song which is of quite a special calibre. This is the universally known ‘Lost Chord.’ Perhaps the piece is unduly sentimental; perhaps the religious sentiment of it is somewhat theatrical. But on the whole it is certainly a fine and noble inspiration. It is not a bit the worse for its huge popularity. The musical material is impressive in the extreme and the handling is admirable.
Frederick Cowen (born 1852) was a prolific composer of songs (his output numbers nearly 300) and, next to Sullivan, was the most popular song-writer of his time. His talent was limited, being wholly satisfactory only in work of a light and fanciful character. In this field he well deserves his reputation. But his sentimental songs are in the worst tradition of the time. His influence in this sort of music has been huge, and he may almost be called the father, for England and America, of the brood of sentimental pieces that pose as art-songs. He has been a potent factor in the debasing of the taste of concert audiences, and singers should know him chiefly as an admirable example of what to avoid. Why the songs of this class are bad might perhaps be told on paper. But a far better answer would be a comparison between them and a few first-rate songs, say by Franz or Brahms. A little familiarity with songs of the Cowen type will show how utterly they fail to ring true to healthy sentiment.
Another popular song writer of Sullivan’s time was Stephen Adams (1844-1911), whose real name was Michael Maybrick. The great popularity of his songs of the sea, such as ‘Nancy Lee’ and ‘The Midshipmite,’ or of his romantic songs, such as ‘In Days of Old,’ is quite justified. They do not parade as art-songs (rather they might be justly called folk-songs), but in their vigor and straightforwardness they might serve as a model to many a precious song-writer with more sentimentality than talent. A more recent song from this composer, ‘The Holy City,’ combines to a remarkable degree the popular quality with real musicianship.
The most genuine song-writer of this period was Arthur Goring-Thomas (1851-1892), a man of delicate instincts and fine artistic sense whose work has never received the recognition it deserves. His field of expression was not wide, but within it he worked with a wealth of imagination and refined sense of fitness which England at the time could not match. He was the one true romanticist of his land. His product is perhaps a trifle morbid, but, such as it is, it is free from tricks and cheapness and is absolutely sincere. As a sentimentalist, pure and simple, he is among the best. He was, indeed, one of the few sentimentalists who could approach the tragic mood without losing in his music the ring of sincerity. And as an artist of the voice England for two centuries was not able to show his fellow. Some of his most perfect work as a lyricist is shown in his cantata, ‘The Swan and the Skylark,’ and in his operas. His solo songs and duets show the refinement and polish which is not that of formal learning, but represents the loving care of an intense artistic nature. Among the best may be mentioned ‘Wind in the Trees,’ ‘Barbarine’s Song,’ ‘One Morning, Oh, so Early,’ and the ‘Night Hymn at Sea.’
Before closing this chapter we should mention the romantic and colorful work of Liza Lehman (born 1862). Her song cycles, especially those from Omar Khayyám and Robert Louis Stevenson, are well known. The former, ‘A Persian Garden,’ offers points of remarkable interest to the musician. The music, which covers a considerable emotional range, is equally felicitous in a number of various moods. The exotic color of the cycle is managed with rare taste and effectiveness. The accompaniment is a model of richness and appropriateness. We can safely say that this writer is the only woman composer who has ever succeeded signally in the tragic mood. But her peculiar contribution (for it can almost be called a contribution) is the fine artistry with which she concentrates great emotional feeling into the briefest time. (It is interesting to note that she does it almost entirely by the use of the da capo or ‘A-B-A’ form.) In the variety of styles at her command and in the sureness of her artistic touch she is quite alone among woman composers of the present day.
FOOTNOTES:
[29] See Musical Examples (Vol. XIII).
[30] See Musical Examples (Vol. XIII).
[31] Vol. IV, chapters XII-XIV.
CHAPTER XIII
HUGO WOLF AND AFTER
Wolf and the poets of his time; Hugo Wolf’s songs; Gustav Mahler; Richard Strauss as song-writer; Max Reger’s songs—Schönberg and the modern radicals.