The cantata "Vexilla Regis" is notable for its martial opening chorus, the ba.s.s solo, "Where deep for us the spear was dyed," and its scholarly and effective ending.

A lapidary's skill and delight for working in small forms belongs to Gerrit Smith. His "Aquarelles" are a good example of his art in bijouterie. This collection includes eight songs and eight piano sketches. The first, "A Lullaby," begins with the unusual skip of a ninth for the voice. A subdued accentuation is got by the syncopation of the ba.s.s, and the yearning tenderness of the ending finishes an exquisite song. "Dream-wings" is a graceful fantasy that fittingly presents the delicate sentiment of Coleridge' lyrics. The setting of Heine's "Fir-tree" is entirely worthy to stand high among the numerous settings of this lyric. Smith gets the air of desolation of the bleak home of the fir-tree by a cold scale of harmony, and a bold simplicity of accompaniment. The home of the equally lonely palm-tree is strongly contrasted by a tropical luxuriance of interlude and accompaniment.

The sixth song is a delightful bit of brilliant music, but it is quite out of keeping with the poem. Thus on the words, "Margery's only three," there is a fierce climax fitting an Oriental declaration of despair. The last of these songs, "Put by the Lute," is possibly Smith's best work. It is superb from beginning to end. It opens with a most unhackneyed series of preludizing arpeggios, whence it breaks into a swinging lyric, strengthened into pa.s.sion by a vigorous contramelody in the ba.s.s. Throughout, the harmonies are most original, effective, and surprising.

Of the eight instrumental pieces in this book, the exquisite and fluent "Impromptu" is the best after the "Cradle Song," which is drowsy with luscious harmony and contains a pa.s.sage come organo of such n.o.ble sonority as to put it a whit out of keeping with a child's lullaby.

Smith was born December 11, 1859, at Hagerstown, Md. His first instruction was gained in Geneva, N.Y., from a pupil of Moscheles. He began composition early, and works of his written at the age of fourteen were performed at his boarding-school. He graduated at Hobart College in 1876, whence he went to Stuttgart to study music and architecture. A year later he was in New York studying the organ with Samuel P. Warren. He was appointed organist at St. Paul's, Buffalo, and studied during the summer with Eugene Thayer, and William H.

Sherwood. In 1880 he went again to Germany, and studied organ under Haupt, and theory under Rohde, at Berlin. On his return to America he took the organ at St. Peter's, in Albany. Later he came to New York, where he has since remained continuously, except for concert tours and journeys abroad. He has played the organ in the most important English and Continental towns, and must be considered one of our most prominent concert organists. He is both a Master of Arts and a Doctor of Music. As one of the founders, and for many years the president, of the Ma.n.u.script Society, he was active in obtaining a hearing for much native music otherwise mute.

In addition to a goodly number of Easter carols, Christmas anthems, Te Deums, and such smaller forms of religious music, Smith has written a sacred cantata, "King David." Aside from this work, which in orchestration and in general treatment shows undoubted skill for large effort, Doctor Smith's composition has been altogether along the smaller lines.

The five-song'd opus 14 shows well matured lyric power, and an increase in fervor of emotion. Bourdillon's "The Night Has a Thousand Eyes," which can never be too much set to music, receives here a truly superb treatment. The interlude, which also serves for finale, is especially ravishing. "Heart Longings" is one of Mr. Smith's very best successes. It shows a free pa.s.sion and a dramatic fire unusual for his rather quiet muse. The setting of Bourdillon's fine lyric is indeed so stirring that it deserves a high place among modern songs. "Melody"

is a lyric not without feeling, but yet inclusive of most of Smith's faults. Thus the prelude, which is a tritely flowing allegro, serves also for interlude as well as postlude, and the air and accompaniment of both stanzas are unvaried, save at the cadence of the latter stanza. The intense poesy of Anna Reeve Aldrich, a poetess cut short at the very budding of unlimited promise, deserved better care than this from a musician. Two of Smith's works were published in Millet's "Half-hours with the Best Composers,"--one of the first substantial recognitions of the American music-writer. A "Romance," however, is the best and most elaborate of his piano pieces, and is altogether an exquisite fancy. His latest work, a cycle of ten pieces for the piano, "A Colorado Summer," is most interesting. The pieces are all lyrical and simple, but they are full of grace and new colors.

[Music: Spring.

Words by Alfred Tennyson.

GERRIT SMITH, OP. 13, NO. 4.

Bird's love and bird's song, Flying here and there, Bird's song and bird's love, And you with gold for hair.

Bird's song and bird's love, Pa.s.sing with the weather, Men's song and men's love, To love once and forever.

Copyright, 1894, by Arthur P. Schmidt.

A FRAGMENT.]

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 "G.o.d 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 Tomt.i.t 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 G.o.d 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 s.e.xtet, the arrangement being a development, not a bare transcription.

There are two mazurkas (op. 71), the first very original and happy.

"aeolian Murmurings" is a superb study in high color. A "Caprice Espanol" 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 const.i.tute 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 ma.n.u.script is a Prelude developed interestingly on well-understood lines. There is a superb "Reverie Poetique." 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 emanc.i.p.ation 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 n.o.ble 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 cla.s.sic.

In his "Lord G.o.d, Hear My Prayer," Bartlett throws down the gauntlet to the Bach-Gounod "Ave Maria," with results rather disastrous. He chooses a Cramer etude, and adds to it parts for voice, violin, and organ. While Gounod seems pa.s.sionate and unrestrained, Bartlett shows his caution and his cage at every step. A Cramer etude 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.

Bartlett was born at Olive, N.Y., December 28, 1846. His ancestry runs far back into New England, his mother being a descendant of John Rogers, the martyr. Bartlett is said to have "lisped in numbers,"

singing correctly before he could articulate words. The violin was his first love, and at the age of eight he was playing in public. He took up the piano and organ also, and in his fourteenth year was a church organist. He studied the piano with S.B. Mills, Emil Guyon (a pupil of Thalberg), and Alfred Pease. The organ and composition he studied with O.F. Jacobsen and Max Braun. With the exception of a musical pilgrimage in 1887, Bartlett has not come nearer the advantages of Europe than study here under men who studied there. He has resided for many years in New York as organist and teacher. As a composer he has been one of our most prolific music-makers. His work shows a steady development in value, and the best is doubtless yet to come.

He finds a congenial field in the orchestra. Seidl played his instrumentation of Chopin's "Military Polonaise" several times. As the work seemed to need a finale in its larger form, Bartlett took a liberty whose success was its justification, and added a finish made up of the three princ.i.p.al themes interwoven. A recent work is his "Concertstuck," for violin and orchestra. It is not pianistic in instrumentation, and will appeal to violinists. While not marked with _recherches_ violin tricks, or violent attempts at bravura, it has both brilliance and solidity, and is delightfully colored in orchestration. There are no pauses between the movements, but they are well varied in their unity.

There is an unfinished oratorio, "Samuel," an incomplete opera, "Hinot.i.to," and a cantata of which only the tenor solo, "Khamsin," is done. This is by far the best work Bartlett has written, and displays unexpected dramatic powers. The variation of the episodes of the various phases of the awful drought to the climax in "The Plague,"

make up a piece of most impressive strength. The orchestration is remarkably fine with effect, color, and variety. If the cantata is finished on this scale, its production will be a national event.

The New England farmer is usually taken as a type of st.u.r.dy Philistinism in artistic matters. It was a most exceptional good fortune that gave C.B. Hawley a father who added to the dignity of being a tiller of the soil the refinements of great musical taste and skill. His house at Brookfield, Conn., contained not only a grand piano, but a pipe organ as well; and Hawley's mother was blessed with a beautiful and cultivated voice.

At the age of thirteen (he was born St. Valentine's Day, 1858) Hawley was a church organist and the conductor of musical affairs in the Cheshire Military Academy, from which he graduated. He went to New York at the age of seventeen, studying the voice with George James Webb, Rivarde, Foederlein, and others, and composition with Dudley Buck, Joseph Mosenthal, and Rutenber.

His voice brought him the position of soloist at the Calvary Episcopal Church, at the age of eighteen. Later he became a.s.sistant organist at St. Thomas' Episcopal Church, under George William Warren. For the last fourteen years he has had charge of the summer music at St. James Chapel, in Elberon, the chapel attended by Presidents Grant and Garfield. For seventeen years he has been one of the leading spirits of the Mendelssohn Glee Club, and for ten years a member of the Mendelssohn Quartet Club. Most of his part songs were written for the club and first sung at its concerts. He is also a successful teacher of the voice, and has been too busy to write a very large volume of compositions. But those published show the authentic fire.

Notable features of Hawley's compositions are the taking quality of the melody, its warm sincerity, and the un.o.btrusive opulence in color of the accompaniment. This is less like an answering, independent voice than like a many-hued, velvety tapestry, backgrounding a beautiful statue. It is only on second thought and closer study that one sees how well concealed is the careful and laborious polish _ad unguem_ of every chord. This is the true art of song, where the lyrics should seem to gush spontaneously forth from a full heart and yet repay the closer dissection that shows the intellect perfecting the voice of emotion.

Take, for example, his "Lady Mine," a brilliant rhapsody, full of the spring, and enriched with a wealth of color in the accompaniment till the melody is half hidden in a shower of roses. It required courage to make a setting of "Ah, 'Tis a Dream!" so famous through La.s.sen's melody; but Hawley has said it in his own way in an air thrilled with longing and an accompaniment as full of shifting colors as one of the native sunsets. I can't forbear one obiter dictum on this poem. It has never been so translated as to reproduce its neatest bit of fancy. In the original the poet speaks of meeting in dreams a fair-eyed maiden who greeted him "auf Deutsch" and kissed him "auf Deutsch," but the translations all evade the kiss in German.

"The Ring," bounding with the glad frenzy of a betrothed lover, has a soaring finale, and is better endowed with a well polished accompaniment than the song, "Because I Love You, Dear," which is not without its good points in spite of its manifest appeal to a more popular taste. "My Little Love," "An Echo," "Spring's Awakening," and "Where Love Doth Build His Nest," are conceived in Hawley's own vein.

The song, "Oh, Haste Thee, Sweet," has some moments of ba.n.a.lity, but more of novelty; the harmonic work being unusual at times, especially in the rich garb of the words, "It groweth late." In "I Only Can Love Thee," Hawley has succeeded in conquering the incommensurateness of Mrs. Browning's sonnet by alternating 6-8 and 9-8 rhythms. His "Were I a Star," is quite a perfect lyric.

Of his part songs, all are good, some are masterly. Here he colors with the same lavish but softly blending touch as in his solos. "My Luve's Like a Red, Red Rose" is altogether delightful, containing as it does a suggestion of the old formalities and courtly graces of the music of Lawes, whose songs Milton sonneted. I had always thought that no musician could do other than paint the lily in attempting to add music to the music of Tennyson's "Bugle Song," but Hawley has come dangerously near satisfaction in the elfland faintness and dying clearness of his voices.

He has written two comic glees, one of which, "They Kissed! I Saw Them Do It," has put thousands of people into the keenest mirth. It is a vocal scherzo for men's voices. It begins with a criminally lugubrious and thin colloquy, in which the ba.s.s dolefully informs the others: "Beneath a shady tree they sat," to which the rest agree; "He held her hand, she held his hat," which meets with general consent. Now we are told in stealthy gasps, "I held my breath and lay right flat."

Suddenly out of this thinness bursts a peal of richest harmony: "They kissed! I saw them do it." It is repeated more lusciously still, and then the ba.s.ses and barytones mouth the gossip disapprovingly, and the poem continues with delicious raillery till it ends abruptly and archly: "And they thought no one knew it!"

Besides these scherzos, Hawley has written a few religious part songs of a high order, particularly the n.o.ble "Trisagion and Sanctus," with its "Holy, Holy!" now hushed in reverential awe and now pealing in exultant worship. But of all his songs, I like best his "When Love is Gone," fraught with calm intensity, and closing in beauty as ineffable as a last glimmer of dying day.

To the stencil-plate chivalry of the lyrics of the ubiquitous F.E.

Weatherby and John Oxenford, the song-status of England can blame a deal of its stagnation. It is not often that these word-wringers have enticed American composers. One of the few victims is John Hyatt Brewer, who was born in Brooklyn, in 1856, and has lived there ever since.

[Music: When Love is gone.

(_Soprano, or Tenor._)

C.B. HAWLEY.

The mind has a thousand eyes, The heart but one; Yet the light of a whole life dies When love is gone, when love is gone.

Copyright, 1894, by G. Schirmer.]

Brewer made his debut as a six-year-old singer, and sang till his fourteenth year. A year later he was an organist in Brooklyn, where he has held various positions in the same capacity ever since, additionally busying himself as a teacher of voice, piano, organ, and harmony. His studies in piano and harmony were pursued under Rafael Navarro. Counterpoint, fugue, and composition he studied under Dudley Buck.

In 1878 Brewer became the second tenor and accompanist of the Apollo Club, of which Mr. Buck is the director. He has conducted numerous vocal societies and an amateur orchestra.