But Smith's most individual work is his set of songs for children, which are much compared, and favorably, with Reinecke's work along the same lines. These are veritable masterpieces of their sort, and they are mainly grouped into opus 12, called "Twenty-five Song Vignettes."
So well are they written that they are a safe guide, and worthy that supreme trust, the first formation of a child's taste. Even dissonances are used, sparingly but bravely enough to give an idea of the different elements that make music something more than a sweetish impotence. They are vastly different from the horrible trash children are usually brought up on, especially in our American schools, to the almost incurable perversion of their musical tastes. They are also so full of refinement, and of that humor without which children cannot long be held, that they are of complete interest also to "grown-ups," to whom alone the real artistic value of these songs can entirely transpire. Worthy of especial mention are the delicious "Stars and Angels;" the delightful "A Carriage to Ride In;" "Good King Arthur," a captivating melody, well built on an accompaniment of "God Save the King;" "Birdie's Burial," an elegy of the most sincere pathos, quite worthy of a larger cause,—if, indeed, any grief is greater than the first sorrows of childhood; the surprisingly droll "Barley Romance;" "The Broom and the Rod," with its programmatic glissandos to give things a clean sweep; and other delights like the "Rain Song," "The Tomtit Gray," "Mamma's Birthday," and "Christmas at the Door." To have given these works their present value and perfection, is to have accomplished a far greater thing than the writing of a dozen tawdry symphonies.
One of the most outrageously popular piano pieces ever published in America was Homer N. Bartlett's "Grande Polka de Concert." It was his opus 1, written years ago, and he tells me that he recently refused a lucrative commission to write fantasies on "Nearer My God to Thee" and "The Old Oaken Bucket"! So now that he has reformed, grown wise and signed the musical pledge, one must forgive him those wild oats from which he reaped royalties, and look to the genuine and sincere work he has latterly done. Let us begin, say, with opus 38, a "Polonaise" that out-Herods Chopin in bravura, but is full of vigor and well held together. A "Dance of the Gnomes," for piano, is also arranged for a sextet, the arrangement being a development, not a bare transcription. There are two mazurkas (op. 71), the first very original and happy. "Æolian Murmurings" is a superb study in high color. A "Caprice Español" is a bravura realization of Spanish frenzy. It has also been brilliantly orchestrated. Two songs without words make up opus 96: while "Meditation" shows too evident meditation on Wagner, "A Love Song" gets quite away from musical bourgeoisery. It is free, spirited, even daring. It is patently less devoted to theme-development than to the expression of an emotion. This "Love Song" is one of the very best of American morceaux, and is altogether commendable.
Opus 107 includes three "characteristic pieces." "The Zephyr" is dangerously like Chopin's fifteenth Prelude, with a throbbing organ-point on the same A flat. On this alien foundation, however, Bartlett has built with rich harmony. The "Harlequin" is graceful and cheery. It ends with Rubinstein's sign and seal, an arpeggio in sixths, which is as trite a musical finis as fiction's "They lived happily ever afterward, surrounded by a large circle of admiring friends."
Three mazurkas constitute opus 125. They are closely modelled on Chopin, and naturally lack the first-handedness of these works, in which, almost alone, the Pole was witty. But Bartlett has made as original an imitation as possible. The second is particularly charming.
In manuscript is a Prélude developed interestingly on well-understood lines. There is a superb "Reverie Poétique." It is that climax of success, a scholarly inspiration. To the meagre body of American scherzos, Bartlett's scherzo will be very welcome. It is very festive and very original. Its richly harmonized interlude shows a complete emancipation from the overpowering influence of Chopin, and a great gain in strength as well as individuality.
In his songs Bartlett attains a quality uniformly higher than that of his piano pieces. "Moonbeams" has many delicacies of harmony. "Laughing Eyes" is a fitting setting of Mr. "Nym Crinkle" Wheeler's exquisite lyric. "Come to Me, Dearest," while cheap in general design, has fine details.
It makes me great dole to have to praise a song about a brooklet; but the truth is, that Bartlett's "I Hear the Brooklet's Murmur" is superbly beautiful, wild with regret,—a noble song. It represents the late German type of Lied, as the earlier heavy style is exemplified in "Good Night, Dear One." Very Teutonic also is the airiness and grace of "Rosebud."
To that delightful collection of children's songs, "The St. Nicholas Song Book," Bartlett contributed largely. All of his lyrics are delicious, and "I Had a Little Pony" should become a nursery classic.
In his "Lord God, Hear My Prayer," Bartlett throws down the gauntlet to the Bach-Gounod "Ave Maria," with results rather disastrous. He chooses a Cramer étude, and adds to it parts for voice, violin, and organ. While Gounod seems passionate and unrestrained, Bartlett shows his caution and his cage at every step. A Cramer étude is among the most melancholy things of earth anyway. "Jehovah Nissi" is an excellent sacred march chorus that won a prize, and there is a cantata, "The Last Chieftain." Bartlett's cantata is without efforts at Indian color, but is a solid work with much dignity, barbaric severity, and fire.