Of even greater popularity and possibly more originality is the work of Cécile Chaminade (born 1861), whose songs occasionally approach a high degree of artistic finish. In her genre songs Mme. Chaminade is especially felicitous. Several random examples are the Chanson Slave and the Chanson Espagnole, among the pseudo-national lyrics; the Mandoline and Madrigal and Voisinage, each in a special and easily appreciated style. In her dainty imitations of the antique the composer shows her French training and zest—notably in Auprès de ma mie, Noël des oiseaux, and Ronde d’amour. In her emotional songs, such as Chanson triste and Amoroso, she is less distinguished. And in the religious or grandiose songs, such as Immortalité and l’Idéal, she is pompous, noisy, and uninspired. Her creative impulse is not great. Her ideas are most charming when they are most modest But when she is working with material that is to her taste she can manipulate it with a deftness that many a first-rate composer might be proud of.
A further group of French song writers may be mentioned because their work contains some elements of distinction. Gabriel Pierné (born 1863), a musician of fine endowments and a force in Parisian musical life, works with deftness and excellent taste, chiefly in the smaller forms and the more modest ideas. J. Guy Ropartz (born 1864), a pupil of César Franck, has kept himself clear of the modern radical tendencies in Paris and has continued to produce songs in the old manner, but considerably more vigorous and creative in content than was once the fashion. Xavier Léroux (born 1863), with at least one fine song, ‘The Nile,’ should be named, and also Augusta Mary Anne Holmès (1847-1903), an Irish woman who lived and worked in Paris and wrote songs of large and pretentious outline, best of which, perhaps, is ‘An Irish Noël.’ Reynaldo Hahn (born 1874), one of the weaker pupils of Massenet, followed his master’s method to considerable popularity but to little artistic purpose. Other song-writers who may profitably be mentioned are Arthur Coquard (born 1846) and George Adolphe Huë (born 1851).
V
The position of Edward MacDowell (1861-1911) as a lyricist is still disputed. Mr. Finck ranks him among the four greatest song-writers of the world. In point of sincerity and individuality he was surpassed by few of his contemporaries. From the beginning of his maturity on he wrote scarcely a note that did not bear his personal signature. In two or three of his songs he is certainly hobnobbing among the great. But though nearly all his work is charmingly individual, one may doubt whether he has written a sufficient quantity of superior songs to entitle him to the rank to which Mr. Finck assigns him. But the songs are there, independently of what rank this or that writer chooses to give him. He is unsurpassed in giving his music certain special qualities or moods, distinct, yet not got by strained means—moods such as banter, sentimental tenderness, playfulness, and the like. The achieving of such results is one of the ultimate things in song writing from the technical point of view, and many first rank composers have been unequal to it. To achieve it is a special mark of genius for the art-song. Again, we find that MacDowell’s songs have a remarkable amount of distinction and individuality; though the personality of the composer is over all, each of the songs has its own personality, too. The range is considerable; from playfulness, through sensuous emotion, to deepest tragedy, and each type, at MacDowell’s hands, is equally individual and almost equally successful. The MacDowell idiom, derived in part from Grieg, is used flexibly for many things and is usually a fine instrument of emotional expression. We should not, however, leave this listing of the qualities of MacDowell’s songs without mentioning their frequent tendency to the banal, a tendency which is never marked or long sustained, but which appears in unexpected places to rob the songs of their final touch of aristocratic distinction.
The earliest of the MacDowell songs is a group of Scotch melodies, an endeavor to imitate the Scotch style, yet not so closely as to do away with individuality. ‘Deserted,’ to the old words ‘Ye Banks and Braes of Bonny Doon,’[30] is appealing and tragic, altogether a fine piece of work. But the Scotch songs of opus 34 are more beautiful and more personal. Both ‘Menie’ and ‘My Jean’ (words by Burns) deal in the Scotch cadences and phrases, but they might also stand as a study for the great songs of opus 47. The songs of opus 26, entitled ‘From an Old Garden,’ show MacDowell at his best in his lighter moods. ‘The Blue Bell,’ which maintains a mood half of banter and half of pathos, is admirable, and ‘The Myrtle,’ with its harmonic freedom yet cogent expression, is of decided technical interest. Leaving to the last the two greatest of MacDowell’s song groups, let us make mention in passing of opus 56, two excellent songs, ‘The Swan Bent Low to the Lily’ and ‘A Maid Sings High and a Maid Sings Low,’ which are as personal as anything the composer has done; of opus 58 with the pleasing ‘Merry Maids,’ and of opus 60, with ‘Tyrant Love,’ another very personal song, and ‘Fair Springtide,’ original and invigorating.
The two great opus numbers referred to are 40 and 47. The ‘Six Love Songs’ of opus 40 include one which is perhaps the best known of all MacDowell’s vocal work—‘Thy Beaming Eyes.’ In this song we must admire the strenuousness of the hot emotion which the composer is able to conjure up, but we cannot help wishing that he had chosen a medium a little less vulgar. This song contains much of MacDowells ability, but of MacDowell’s artistic message it contains less than almost any other. The second song of the group, ‘Sweetheart, Tell Me,’ is delicate and perfect as a cut gem. But by all means MacDowell’s greatest song-group is opus 47, ‘Eight Songs.’ The first of the group is the second of the composer’s songs in popularity—‘The Robin Sings in the Apple Tree.’ Nowhere has MacDowell been more felicitous in the delineation of mood in tiny details; the number of treasures in this short song is truly surprising. The ‘Midsummer Lullaby’ is a masterpiece. Again it is the accuracy of mood-painting that strikes us, this time the hot laziness of the full summer day. The third piece, the ‘Folksong,’ is in MacDowell’s most vigorous and admirable style. ‘The West Wind Croons in the Cedar Trees,’ ‘In the Woods,’ and ‘Through the Meadow’ are nature songs of much distinction, showing grace, buoyancy, or sentiment, as the case may be. But the finest song of the group, and the finest of all MacDowell’s songs, is ‘The Sea,’ to William Dean Howells’s words. Here we have in full strength the mood of tragic grandeur which has been struck seldom in modern art-songs. This song, at least, has not a touch of banality, not a note of mannerism, not a phrase which is not at once great music and genuine poetry. Many of MacDowell’s songs are perhaps too personal to be generally appreciated. Here is one song which is utterly the product of his individual genius, but at the same time a universal art-work.
Beyond MacDowell it is not easy to name a single American song-writer who has any claim to a position among the song-writers of the world. A few, especially in very recent years, have shown a marked talent which may be expected to develop into something unusual. But, on the whole, the American song output, though enormous, has been consistently and painfully second-rate in character. This is not to belittle the excellent work which certain Americans have accomplished in this field; but their interest must necessarily be local. The American song-writers are treated in detail in another volume,[31] so we need here only mention them and the occasional treasures hidden in a mass of work too facile and imitative. We should name, however, one of their number who, with rather limited talents, has nevertheless made a place for himself in the hearts of people in Europe as well as in this country. This is Ethelbert Nevin (1862-1901), chiefly known among pianists for his charming suites of short pieces. Nevin’s reputation as a song-writer rests chiefly on one lyric, ‘The Rosary,’ which has had a remarkable vogue, well deserved. It is difficult to find any other of his songs which approaches this in emotional breadth. But out of his numerous list there are a few which are well worth knowing. ‘Sleep, Little Tulip’ is a bit of a lullaby with a charming swing and a delicate sentiment, given an additional interest by the lilt of the accompaniment, which is managed with much skill. ‘A Song of Love’ is above the average in musical vigor and ‘Orsola’s Song,’ to the French words of Jean Richepin, imitates with success the Gallic method. In der Nacht, to German words, is unusual for breadth and genuineness. Nevin is too often a mere sentimentalist, too often imitative, too often dependent on mannerisms and formulas. Some of these mannerisms, however, are effective, especially that of writing a contrapuntal melody in the accompaniments, as in the second half of ‘The Rosary.’ Though his invention was facile rather than profound, and his musicianship slight, we cannot deny him praise for a certain delicacy of touch, a certain artistic sense of fitness, which were too often lacking in his American contemporaries.
It may not be out of place here to mention two song writers of modern Italy who have shown individuality and attained wide popularity. Francesco Paolo Tosti (born 1846), one time teacher of singing to the court of England, has written a number of songs of varying quality. His ‘Goodbye Forever’ is none the worse for having been played on all the hurdy-gurdies of London for twenty years past. The piece is as moving as any folk-song and as delicate as a lyric by Jensen. In his later songs, of which we may mention the well known ‘Serenade,’ he shows more care than in the earlier ones and the result has been some exquisite works, combining Italian grace and Italian fervor in equal proportions. ‘At Vespers,’ Amore, and Mattinata are among his best. Luigi Denza (born 1846) has attracted a unique position for himself in that one of his lyrics, the famous ‘Funicula,’ has been circulated more widely than any other piece of music of which there is record, having reached a sale of some 500,000 copies. His songs, which are all simple and addressed to the common people, are very numerous and include not a few of great charm and artistic grace.
VI
In a later chapter we shall briefly study the wonderful song literature which has been created by the Russian composers in the last half century. From this list, however, we shall exclude two Russians who were extremely productive song writers and are still the best known of their land. For Rubinstein and Tschaikowsky, though they were born in Russia, were Germans in their musical education and would have little to do with the ‘neo-Russian’ group which created the national art-song. They frequently attempt Russian ‘local color’ or oriental exoticism, but in nearly every case their attempt is mannered and self-conscious. Both suffered from over-production. To be quite plain, they seem to lack artistic conscience. Rubinstein, in particular, wrote a great quantity of songs, chiefly to German and Russian texts, which no sincere artist should have dared to sign. They were addressed to the drawing rooms and the tinsel concert halls of the time. Perhaps they were actually the pot-boilers with which he sought to eke out his income. Most of them should be passed over in charitable silence. Tschaikowsky shows a somewhat higher level of artistic effort, but too often he writes much noise and little music. His most pretentious efforts are often built upon themes that would hardly fill a penny whistle. However, he errs not so much through the cheapness of his melodies, as does Rubinstein, as through lack of artistic taste and control.