MU SIC.
WORDS FOR MUSICAL SETTING.
A vmoRous letter of protest recently reached the present writer from a correspondent who attended a concert at which a setting of Mr. Rudyard Kipling's "Danny Deever" was per- formed, to the great delectation of the audience. "I contend," observes the writer, "that the hanging of a fellow-creature is not a suitable subject for a song at a public concert, where tastes may differ," and we confess ourselves to be in sympathy with the protest, much as it may surprise many emancipated critics of to-day. For in certain musical circles the principle seems to be generally admitted that anything which possesses origin- ality, character, or literary merit is fair game for the composer, just as in certain literary circles any subject is held to be fitted for literary treatment, provided it possesses interest. This is perhaps an improvement on the old days, when the words were of so little account that leading native musicians were content to set the librettos of Bunn and Fitzball, and the insipid effusions of Haynes Bayly were accepted without criticism. Undoubtedly the average literary level of the draw- ing-room song of to-day is higher than it used to be, but against this gain must be set the lack of discrimination and taste shown in the choice of the words themselves, unless we are to acquiesce in the view that art does not involve selection, that it is independent of beauty, and is compatible with the giving of pain. In other words, it will no doubt be con- tended that a song-writer need not be restrained by any con- sideration for the susceptibilities of his auditors, so long as he can enhance or emphasise the significance of his text. Now while in the domain of music-drama a good deal can be legitimately urged in support of such a view, we demur strongly to its application to the sphere of lyrical music. In such a poem as "Danny Deever " there is no relief, no con- trast to lighten the gloom. The words are powerful and ireipressive enough in themselves, but it is to us a degradation
of music to summon its aid in order to lend extra effect to the sinister picture of a dangling body and a contorted face.
The extreme instance of a composer triumphing over the inferior quality of his words is furnished by Mozart. Mozart could have set Acts of Parliament to beautiful music. but think how far more beautiful music he might have composed if he had had Goethe to collaborate with instead of Da Ponte and Schikaneder ! Whether it was due to the directing influence of his friend Vogl or not, there are few happier strokes of fortune in the annals of music than the intuition or good luck which brought the youthful Schub°, t into contact with the best contemporary poets of the time. That Schumann and Mendelssohn should have been fastidious in the choice of words is not so remarkable in view of the literary atmosphere in which they were brought up. Bat that Schubert, a bourgeois, at least in surroundings and appearance, should have immediately appreciated Heine's verse, and glorified it by his own melody, is a fact as wonderful as it is welcome. All the great composers, however, with the exception of Mozart, were careful in the choice of words ; and if they occasionally declined upon in- different librettos, it was only after assiduous and unavail- ing search for something better. The composers of to-day do not so often offend by the choice of indifferent, as of inappropriate, words, or by the extraordinary inappropriateness of their treatment. Dvorak, notably in some passages of his Requiem, where the most solemn words are decorated with the most irrelevant orchestral em- broidery, is a striking instance of the latter error, while another notable example is to be found in Miss Liza Lehmann's very pretty and extremely popular setting for solo quartet of Fitzgerald's Omar Khayycim. Regarded merely as music it is a uniformly agreeable, and occasionally charming, entertainment. But if we take into account the metrical, ethical, or subjective quality of the original, the irrelevancy of the setting almost attains to the dimensions of an outrage upon an already much desecrated masterpiece. The employment of a quartet at all is singularly inappro- priate in the case of so essentially reflective and in. dividualistic an expression of philosophy, while the occasional changes from male to female voice are strangely discon- certing, seeing that the standpoint throughout is masculine. Indeed, there would be about as much excuse for setting "To be or not to be" as a trio. We cannot help thinking that this infelicitous, if exceedingly popular, experiment was due to the example set by other modern composers in the employ- ment of the chorus in settings of narrative poems. Greater variety of treatment and a greater range of effects are no doubt secured by the device of using the chorus as spokesman. The judicious and artistic use of this device is attended with very happy results, the alternation of the male and female voices lending itself effectively to the representation of passages in dialogue, while even in the narrative portions varying emotional phases and shades of meaning can be emphasised according as the male or female, or both, sections of the choir are employed. Much depends, of course, on the choice of words, much also on their handling, and the legitimate success achieved by some musicians in this form of composition has beguiled others less richly endowed into the ways of ineptitude or failure.
On the whole, we take it to be one amongst many healthy signs of the times that such a protest should have been made. It argues a critical attitude on the part of the concert-goer which hardly existed a generation back. " I cannot sing the old songs," the musical amateur of to-day might fairly argue, "not only because the music is old-fashioned, but because the words are so silly. It requires more courage than I pos- sess to stand up and sing 'A widow's sombre cap concealed her once luxuriant hair." Again, the practice of printing the words at full length in the programme books has probably been fraught with good results. It emphasises the import- ance of words, which illiterate or non-literary musicians have always been inclined to overlook, it attracts attention to poetry which is worthy of the name, and pillories the inanities of the doggerel bard. The printing at full length of such pieces as the "Maid of Malabar" cannot but tend to check the perpetration of such exercises in the art of sinking. The name of the literary collaborator in a song should always be given. At present that is a privilege reserved for the authors of arrangements and paraphrases,- e.g., Schubert-Liszt, Paganini-Thomson, Strauss-Tausig. But we never see songs described as they ought to be, as "by Schubert-Shakespeare," or " Schnmann-Heine." Another sign of grace is the exacting of a much higher standard in translations. The present writer has in his possession an edition of Schubert's songs, published less than thirty years ago, in which the English rendering of one song begins :— 10 "Through broken boots, fresh anguish causing, my burning feet press ice and snow." Such atrocities would no longer be tolerated, and the afflicting versions of Brahms's songs executed by Mrs. John P. Morgan, of New York, which the amateurs of a previous generation endured without protest, are being happily superseded by renderings in which grammar and rhyme are no longer openly set at defiance.
As an instance of the old view that words might be too good to be set to music, we may be allowed to recall a curious incident which occurred about a dozen years back. A song was published the words of which were detected by a musical critic to be an unmistakable plagiaribm from Tennyson's "Poet's Song" :-.- "The rain had fallen, the Poet arose ;
He pass'd by the town and out of the street. A light wind blew from the gates of the sun And waves of shadow went over the wheat."
We will spare our readers the plagiarism. It is enough to say that while the mere narrative remained intact, every metaphor was modified, every sentiment diluted ; in a word, the poetic quality of the verses was entirely eliminated. An explanation, however, was promptly forthcoming. The pub- lishers wrote to say that they had purchased the song, with Tennyson's words, along with the stock of another firm who were retiring from business. They found, however, that the
words were altogether too high-class, that the song would not "go," and they accordingly commissioned a gentleman to rewrite the song, retaining its general character, but "stooping from Olympus" so as to suit the intellectual requirements of their clientele. What the fate of the song preyed to be in its new form we are not able to say. But we donbt very much whether any publisher would find it necessary to resort to such an expedient at the present
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