S.—By writing to the publisher of The Etude you can get a copy of “Twilight Serenade,” by O. Bendix, for piano, violin and ‘cello. The price is 55 cents net. We cannot find a piece called “Twilight” for the instrumentation you mention.
T. G. E.—One of the latest books on harmony is “Modern Harmony” by Arthur Foote, the well-known composer, and Professor Walter R. Spalding, of the Harvard Department of Music. It is clear, comprehensive and practical; not only an excellent exposition of all the principles involved, but affording also a plentiful supply of exercise.
I. S. M.—Professor John K. Paine’s romantic opera “Azara” has never been given on the stage. Its first performance in concert form complete was by the Cecilia Society, in Boston, under Mr. B. J. Lang, April 9th, 1907. Extracts from this opera have been given before in Boston, under the leadership of Mr. E. Cutter, Jr., and the “Ballet Dances” from the third act have been played by the Boston Symphony Orchestra, under Mr. Gericke, in Boston, Cambridge and New York.
Inquirer.—The original title of the Sonate Pathetique runs in French as follows: “Grand, pathetic Sonata for the Harpsichord or Piano-Forte, composed, and dedicated to his Highness, Prince Karl Lichnowsky, by Ludwig van Beethoven.” No reason for this title has ever been discovered. Grove’s Dictionary states that Nottebohm discovered among Beethoven’s sketch books that the finale of the sonata was originally intended for the last movement of one of the early string trios, Op. 9, No. 3.
Student.—It is decidedly necessary for you to know all the various C clefs, especially the alto and tenor clefs because of their employment in orchestral music. The alto clef is only used by the violas and in rare cases for the part of the alto trombone; the tenor clef for the higher register of the violoncellos, the bassoons and the terror trombones. In many scores for chorus and orchestra you will find the soprano clef used, while in older ecclesiastical music you will find even a movable bass clef as well as a treble clef in different positions. All that is required for mastery of these is a little persistent application and constant practice. You will then find that your study and powers of reading will be rendered far more interesting by means of these extra accomplishments.
W. A. R.—I should not advise giving too many studies to your pupils, especially those by Czerny, Cramer and Clementi. The former (Czerny) understood the nature of the piano thoroughly, but his studies are arid musically. It is better to confine the technical work as much as possible to exercises, giving only such studies as are really valuable from a technical standpoint. Then turn to melodious pieces, in which you can usually find plenty of material from which to form exercises. The musical studies of Heller, MacDowell and others combine technical and musical qualities in a felicitous manner. Many pianists of the present time claim that it is better to work as technic directly in the works of classical literature of the piano, thus avoiding a waste of time on music that is of small value intrinsically, or burdening the memory.
S. A. H.—You will find an account of the principal pianists since Liszt in Baltzell’s “History of Music,” published by Theodore Presser. A few late comers like Josef Lhévinne, Mme. Olga Samaroff, or Miss Germaine Schnitzer are not included because they are recent stars who had not attained universal reputation. Lhévinne is a pupil of Safonoff, teacher of piano and director of the Moscow Conservatory, now conductor of the New York Philharmonic Society. He graduated at 18 from the Moscow Conservatory in the same class with Rachmaninoff and Scriabine. In 1895 he won the Rubinstein Prize for piano playing in Berlin. His present tour in this country is his second. Madame Samaroff is chiefly a pupil of the Paris Conservatory, under Marmontel. Miss Schnitzer gained the first prize in piano playing under Raoul Pugno at the Paris Conservatory when only fourteen. She has since studied with Emil Sauer in Vienna.
T. B. H.—The most important of the early treatises on harpsichord playing, from which we can derive a knowledge of the practises in regard to the ornaments, are François Couperin’s “Method, or the Art of Playing the Harpsichord” (1717), and Philipp Emanuel Bach’s “Essay on the True Manner of Playing the Clavier” (1780). Couperin, himself one of the most celebrated of performers on the harpsichord, as well as a famous composer, has, in his book, explained all the practical issues, including principles of fingering, the interpretation of the ornaments, and hints as to style of performance. Emanuel Bach has given us many invaluable suggestions for the execution of his father’s works, as well as general remarks on musical taste, etc., which show clearly the attitude of the musicians of his time. Both of these works show that the chief principles of piano playing were well established and understood in the time of these precursors of the piano.
C. J.—While it is true that the various staccato marks are much more effective when no pedal is used, the fact remains that one does get an effect differing from legato or non-legato when the pedal is used with staccato. That the staccato is not so crisp and distinct does not prevent it from having some musical and expressive value. Undoubtedly it is best to practice staccato entirely without pedal in order to get the requisite training in elasticity, but it is far too sweeping a statement to assert that staccato is impossible with the pedal. The most detached and crisp staccato possible on the piano may be obtained in the middle and lower registers of the piano by employing the second pedal alone. This is seldom indicated by editors, but it is frequently employed by virtuosi. There are properly three sorts of staccato: with the second pedal, without any pedal, and with the damper pedal. If you are still unconvinced, write again to this column, with more detailed questions.
Subscriber.—By “program” music is meant music which has either an idea or scheme of action underlying it as a poetic basis. This may be merely a general idea, as Mendelssohn’s “Fingal’s Cave” overture or Wagner’s overture to “Faust.” It may be more definite while still partly ideal, as Beethoven’s “Pastoral” symphony, whose general scheme was outlined many years before by an obscure composer, Julius Knecht, or Raff’s “Im Walde,” while, of course, still more realistic forms of program music are Berlioz’s “Fantastic” symphony or the “Harold in Italy” symphony, Tchaikovsky’s “Francesca da Rimini” fantasia, or his “Manfred” symphony, or Richard Strauss’ “A Hero’s Life,” or the “Don Quixote” variations. It would require too much space to enumerate all the important modern examples of program music or to state the arguments for or against this species of music. You will find them admirably summed up in Ernest Newman’s article on the subject in his volume, “Musical Studies,” published by John Lane and Co., New. York and London.
A. E. G.—1. Polichinelle means “buffoon” or “Punch.”
2. It is difficult to lay down any comprehensive rule for accent in the mazurka. There is often not a secondary accent but a primary accent on the second beat. That is, the second beat is the strongest of all. Look through the Chopin Mazurkas (Klindworth Edition) and you will see that sometimes the chief accent is on the first beat, sometimes on the second or third, dependent chiefly upon the character of the piece itself. The rhythm of a mazurka is fairly strict but with touches of rubato. Be guided by the character of the piece to which you refer.
3. The middle section of “The Lark” (L’Alouette), Glinka-Balakireff, need not necessarily be taken faster than that preceding. The tempo should be consistent with giving the delicate variations of the accompaniment lightly and with precision, while the melody stands out clearly.
Teacher.—The chief object of playing exercises transposed into all keys (also difficult passages) is that by so doing one obtains an additional surety and mastery over the technical features, inasmuch as they present entirely different problems in the various keys. With the change to black keys instead of white, the notes are harder to hit, even the distances of the same harmonic interval are different in the various keys. In the same way, by transposition of a difficult passage with the original fingering, one obtains technical problems more difficult than that of the original passage itself. Another advantage of learning transposition is that it thus compels the pupil to learn some harmony, that is, if the transpositions are not made by ear. One is obliged to think not only of the fingering, but also of the chords on which the exercise is based. Try to prevent the pupil from transposing by ear rather than mentally, it is careless and has nothing to recommend it. Von Bülow says that by the aid of constant transposition, a modern pianist of the first rank ought to be able to execute Beethoven’s “Sonata Appassionata” as readily in the key of F sharp minor as in that of F minor, and with the same fingering.
H. C.—The making up of accompaniments is not an easy thing, so you need not feel lamentably deficient in “instinct.” In accompanying popular songs they are usually of so stereotyped a melody as well as in harmonic character, that one can feel often “by instinct” what is coming, and anticipate the right chord. It is, however, largely a matter of training. With violin solos, of a presumably higher class of music, it is a very different matter. There is no rule that will tell you how to accompany where you do not know the melody. When you have some acquaintance with the piece, you ought to be able, having studied harmony, to improvise some succession of chords to it. It is first essential that you have some training in a point that should be included in the study of harmony, but which is often postponed until the pupil reaches counterpoint. I refer to harmonizing a given theme in four parts, with the given theme in each of the four parts in turn. If you do this work in your head, not mechanically, so that you hear the succession of chords clearly, away from an instrument, you cannot help acquiring a facility in harmonizing which will help you very much when you endeavor to make up your violin accompaniments. Only it is necessary to know your melody beforehand. Nothing but great practice, and luck in guessing the characteristics of the pieces played would help you. It is doubtful whether the people who play so glibly “by instinct” do so correctly. Write again to these columns if you do not obtain satisfaction.
A. R.—Leading motives, as such, are not employed in Il Trovatore. A libretto with plot and principal airs can be had for fifteen cents. The story of Il Trovatore is as follows: Count Luna, and a minstrel named Manrico, believed to be the son of Azucena, a gypsy, woo Leonore, Countess of Sergaste. Azucena has vowed revenge on Count Luna, because his father, believing her mother to be a sorceress and to have bewitched one of his children, had the old woman burnt. To punish the father Azucena took away his other child who was vainly sought for. The Count is sighing beneath the Countess’ windows. Her heart is already captivated by Manrico’s sweet songs and his valor in tournament. She hears his voice and mistakes the Count for her lover. The two meet and in the duel which follows Manrico is wounded but the Count spares his life without being able to account for his impulse. In the second act Azucena, nursing Manrico, tells him of her mother’s fate and of stealing the Count’s son for revenge with the intention of burning him. But in her confusion she threw her own son into the flames and the Count’s son lived. Manrico is terrified, but Azucena retracts her words, so that he believes her tale to have been an outburst of remorse and folly. He hears next that Leonore, believing him to be dead, is about to retire to a convent. He rushes to save her, and finds that the Count has arrived for the same purpose. He and his companions free her from the Count, who curses them. Leonore becomes Manrico’s wife but their happiness is short-lived. In the third act the Count’s soldiers capture Azucena, whom they recognize as the burnt gipsy’s daughter. She denies all knowledge of the Count’s lost brother, and as the Count hears that his successful rival is her son, she is sentenced to be burnt. Manrico tries to rescue her, but is seized and condemned to die by the axe. In the fourth act Leonore offers herself to the Count as the price of freedom for the captives, but determining to be true to her lover she takes poison. She hastens to Manrico to announce his deliverance, but falls dead at his feet. The Count, seeing that he has been deceived, orders Manrico to be put to death instantly. After the execution Azucena informs the Count that Manrico was his own long-lost brother.
