Although there is no doubt of the strong musical instinct inherent in the Hungarians—witness the prevalence of Hungarian rhythms in Schubert, Liszt, Brahms and others—their country has always been so torn with political dissensions that the lack of a national artistic culture is not to be wondered at. Recently however three Hungarian composers, Dohnányi, Moor and Béla Bartok, have produced works embodying racial tendencies and yet of such significant content and sound workmanship as to attract the attention of the world outside.
Italy, also, is awakening from a long sleep, and there is now a group of young men representing New Italy (of whom Malipiero and Casella are the best known) which should accomplish results worthy of the glorious musical traditions of that country.
England is shaking off her subserviency[340] to the influence of Handel and Mendelssohn, and at last has made a promising start toward the achievement of works which shall rank with her glories in poetry, in fiction and in painting. Among the older group we have such names as Sullivan, with his inimitable series of operas, the Mikado, Gondoliers, Iolanthe, etc.; Parry, with some notable choral works, and Stanford—a most versatile man—Irish by birth, and with the humor and spontaneity natural to his race; his Irish Symphony and his opera Shamus O'Brien would give lustre to any period. The only genius of the first rank however which England has produced since the days of Purcell is Edward Elgar (1857-still living). Practically self-educated and spending his early life in his native country he escaped the influences of German training which so deadened the efforts of former composers, such as Pierson and Bennett. Elgar's music is thoroughly English in its sturdy vigor[341] and wholesome emotion. With something first-hand to say he has acquired such a technique in musical expression that his compositions rank in workmanship with those of the great continental masters. In his use of the modern orchestra Elgar need be considered second to none. His overtures In the South and Cockaigne, his two Symphonies and his Enigma Variations are universally acknowledged to be models of richly-colored and varied scoring. Although his music is English it is never parochial but has that note of universal import always found in the work of a real genius. Among the younger men there are Wallace, both composer and writer on musical subjects (his Threshold of music being particularly stimulating), Holbrook, Vaughan Williams, Roger Quilter, Arthur Hinton, Balfour Gardiner and John Ireland, a composer of genuine individuality, as is evident from his Violin Sonata in D Minor.
Even such outlying parts of the world as Australia and South America have contributed executive artists of great ability though, to our knowledge, as yet no composer.
What, now, in this connection can be said of America? This much at least: when we consider that, beyond the most rudimentary attempts, music in our land is not yet a century old, a start has been made which promises great things. Such pioneers as Paine, Chadwick, MacDowell, Foote, Parker, Osgood, Whiting and Mrs. H.H.A. Beach have written works, often in the larger forms, showing genuine inspiration and fine workmanship, many of which have won permanent recognition outside of their own country. Of late years a younger group has arisen, the chief members[342] of which are Converse, Carpenter, Gilbert, Hadley, Hill, Mason, Atherton, Stanley Smith, Brockway, Blair Fairchild, Heilman, Shepherd, Clapp, John Powell, Margaret Ruthven Lang, Gena Branscombe and Mabel Daniels. These composers all have strong natural gifts, have been broadly educated, and, above all, in their music is reflected a freedom, a humor and an individuality which may fairly be called American; that is, it is not music which slavishly follows the "made-in-Germany" model.[343] The composer of greatest genius and scope in America is undoubtedly Charles Martin Loeffler; but, although he has become a loyal American, and although his best works have been composed in this country, we can hardly claim him as an American composer, for his music vividly reflects French taste and ideals. His inspired works—in particular La Mort de Tintagiles, The Pagan Poem and a Symphony (in one movement)—are of peculiar importance for their connection with works of literature and for consummate power in orchestration. Not even Debussy has expressed more subtly the tragic spirit of Maeterlinck than has Loeffler in La Mort de Tintagiles; and The Pagan Poem, founded on an Eclogue of Virgil portrays most eloquently the romance of those pastoral days. Loeffler's latest work, a String Quartet[344] dedicated to the memory of Victor Chapman, the Harvard aviator, is remarkable for the heart-felt beauty of its themes and for advanced technique in treating the four solo instruments.
Let us now indulge in a few closing remarks of advice to the young student faced with all this perplexing novelty. Our studies should have made plain two definite facts: first, that the real message of music is contained in its melody—that part of the fabric which we can carry with us and sing to ourselves. Harmony and color are factors closely involved with melodic inspiration, but their impression is more fleeting; and in general, no work lacking in melody, however colorful or filled with daring harmonic effects, can long endure. But we must be judicious and fair in estimating exactly what constitutes a real melody. The genius is always ahead of his time; if he thought just as other men, he would be no genius. New types of melody are continually being worked out; all we can say is that the creative composer hears sounds in his imagination, the result of his emotional and spiritual experiences and of his sympathy with the world. He recreates these sounds in terms of notation, hoping that, as they mean so much to him, they may be a delight and inspiration to his fellowmen. If enough people like these works for a long enough time, they are; that is, they live—no matter how much they differ from a priori standards as to what music should be.
The second fact concerns the structure of music; that is, the way in which the thought is presented. We have seen that music always has a carefully planned architecture—that being necessary by reason of the indefiniteness of the material. But let us always remember that without abandoning the fundamental principles of all organic life, form may be—and should be—free and elastic. Every work which lives reveals a perfect balance between the emotional and imaginative factors and their logical presentation. If we are puzzled by the structure of a new work the assumption should be, not that it is formless but that, when we know the work, it will be seen to employ simply a new use of old and accepted principles; for the works analyzed must have convinced us that the principles of unity, contrast, balance and symmetry are eternal; and, however modified, can never be abandoned. The normal imagination must express itself logically, and can no more put forth incoherent works than the human body would give birth to misshapen offspring. Musical compositions, which after study prove to be incoherent, diffuse and flabby, are to be considered exceptional and not worth condemning; they are only to be pitied. The chief aim of the music-lover should be to become an intelligent and enthusiastic appreciator of the great works already composed, and to train himself liberally for the welcome of new works. Towards such an end we hope that this book may offer a helpful contribution.