CHAPTER XII

CONTEMPORANEOUS CHORAL MUSIC IN ENGLAND AND AMERICA

Elgar: ‘The Light of Life’; ‘The Dream of Gerontius’; ‘The Apostles’; ‘The Kingdom’; ‘The Music Makers’--Parry: ‘War and Peace’; ‘The Vision of Life’; ‘The Pied Piper of Hamelin’; Mackenzie; Cowen; Coleridge-Taylor--Bantock: ‘The Fire Worshippers’; ‘Omar Khayyam’ and other choral works--Holbrooke: ‘The Bells’, ‘Byron’ and other works; Grainger and others; Walford Davies: ‘Everyman’; ‘The Temple’ and other works; minor English choral writers--Horatio Parker: ‘Morven and the Grail’ and smaller works; Chadwick: ‘Judith’ and ‘Noël’--Henry Hadley: ‘Merlin and Vivian’ and short works; F. S. Converse: ‘Job’; other American choral writers.

I

Among the large group of British composers of the immediate present the task of recording events of value and moment is rendered somewhat easier by virtue of the fact that its dominating figure, Sir Edward Elgar (born 1857), crossed the line into the twentieth century with a well-defined style of individual expression and a clear title to leadership, won through a noble series of both orchestral and choral works. This series has been augmented during the first decade of the century by works of such splendid proportions and such already recognized importance that at least some of them may be regarded as already occupying places of permanency for some time to come. As the result of this leadership, there is discernible a distinct tendency to regard Elgar as a kind of standard of measurement for British musical values. So much is this true that we already hear of Elgarians and post-Elgarians--for Elgar has by no means said the last word in British music and a school of young composers is developing that is surely destined to accomplish great things for musical England.

Elgar’s most important choral works since 1900 belong to the class of religious music and all are deeply permeated with the same spirit of mysticism that characterizes the religious music of Franck and other devout modern adherents of the Roman Church; indeed, the Roman point of view in interpreting the teachings of the Bible and the deep things of life, is especially discernible in ‘The Apostles’ and ‘The Kingdom,’ as well as in ‘The Dream of Gerontius.’

Elgar’s mode of musical speech is remarkable, even among present-day colorists, for its wealth of color and its richness of tonal effects. Yet he is no impressionist of the Debussy type; every detail of poetic and imaginative suggestion is worked out with careful reference to its own effectiveness as well as that of the larger units to which it may belong. In his treatment of voice-parts there is a remarkable fluency and independence that suggests the old ecclesiastical methods. There is perfect correspondence, in all matters of verbal accentuation, between melodic setting and rhetorical delivery. In his marked preference for long lines of indefinite melodic structure (absence of definite phrases), he closely allies himself not only with the ‘Palestrina style’ but with the Wagnerian method of continuous ‘melos.’ His kinship with Wagner is further emphasized by the elaborate employment of ‘leading motives’ in his largest works. In these motives, however, he is not as fortunate as was Wagner in casting them in distinct, individual, and easily-distinguishable forms. This defect may be inevitable, perhaps, in treating sacred themes subject to so many purely spiritual ramifications as Elgar indulges in. As in the Wagnerian scheme, so in the Elgarian, the orchestra assumes a rôle of utmost importance, frequently overtopping the choral forces and appropriating for its own purposes the composer’s choicest melodies. But Elgar’s mode of treating the orchestra on the whole differs radically from Wagner’s because of the different points from which they approached their tasks in their respective vocal works--Wagner from the standpoint of dramatic effect, Elgar from the standpoint of pure church-music. Hence in the three works above mentioned one finds, for long stretches at a time, a spirit of lofty impersonality, an absence of sensuous melodies, which tends to lull the mind of the listener into a passive condition for receiving the impressions of the text, which is by no means unlike the mental condition produced by listening to actual liturgic music.

‘The Light of Life’ is Elgar’s first work in oratorio style and is short--not as long as many sacred cantatas; yet its exceedingly serious style precludes its being called a cantata. It received its initial hearing at the Worcester Festival in September, 1896. The text by Rev. E. Capel-Cure relates the gospel story of the man, blind from his birth, whom Jesus healed. The persons represented are the mother of the blind man (soprano), the narrator (contralto), the blind man (tenor) and the Master (baritone).

After a meditative and melodious orchestral introduction the first chorus, ‘Seek Him,’ is sung, by the Levites (male voices) in the Temple courts. The blind man’s prayer for light is followed by a recitative by the narrator. The disciples ask ‘Who did sin?’ which is directly answered in an expressive aria sung by the mother, who asserts that he has not been made to suffer this affliction because of the sins of others. The Master then explains, ‘Neither hath this man sinned,’ after which a broad, forcible chorus, ‘Light out of darkness,’ follows. The eyes of the blind man are now anointed, he washes in the Pool of Siloam and comes forth healed; then he is asked by his incredulous neighbors and towns-people how this healing came. In the heated discussion which follows, the music becomes very dramatic. After the blind man has related his story, the Pharisees again enter into discussion, the strife between those approving and those condemning the man being described in a characteristic choral setting. Especially effective is the orchestration in the scene in which the Jews question the mother and the blind man. The strongest and most beautiful part of the work is a solo sung by the Master, ‘I am the good shepherd,’ which soon leads to the final chorus, ‘Light of the world,’ which, though short, is permeated by a strongly triumphant feeling.

‘The Dream of Gerontius’ was written by Edward Elgar upon commission of the Birmingham Festival Committee and performed on the morning of Oct. 3, 1900, at the Birmingham Triennial Festival. Although it was finished for this particular occasion, it had been in the composer’s mind for years and was, therefore, not thought out in haste, as has been the case with many other occasional works. The poem by Cardinal Newman relates the dream of Gerontius as he lies on his death-bed, the flight of his soul to the realm of the unseen, its awakening with ‘a strange refreshment’ as it is safely piloted before the Judge by the Angel, or Soul’s Guardian Spirit, amid the hubbub of demons and the reassuring voices of the angels--not, however, before it has been purified in the waters of purgatory. This poem had made a profound impression upon Elgar and the words and the music are so closely wedded that they seem like twin-expressions of the same thought, both poet and composer having approached their tasks from the standpoint of devout Catholics.

The work calls for only three soloists, mezzo-soprano, tenor and bass, besides chorus and unusually large orchestra, the latter being augmented by double bassoon, organ, gong and glockenspiel. The string section is often divided into many parts, sometimes fifteen and even twenty. Elgar employs many leading motives, characteristic of the verbal ideas with which they are associated, the orchestral prelude alone giving out ten important ones that foreshadow the scheme of the work. In the work itself, as in all of Elgar’s later choral works, all traces of the classical oratorio disappear and solo, choral and orchestral parts follow each other without pause and with utmost freedom of movement within clearly defined scenes or parts. His part-writing is beautifully contrapuntal, but it rarely even approaches fugal writing.

The first part reveals Gerontius (tenor) on his death-bed. As the prelude closes, he sings ‘Jesu Maria, I am near to death,’ after which a semi-chorus chants the _Kyrie eleison_. Gerontius is again heard in the words ‘Rouse thee, my fainting soul,’ when a second chorus responds in tender strains, ‘Be merciful.’ The holy man then sings with deep feeling a longer solo, _Sanctus fortis_, and after an effective orchestral interlude resumes with the words, ‘I can no more,’ in which he expresses fear and horror at his own hallucinations. This is followed by a short chorus, ‘Rescue him, O Lord,’ sung by the attendant priests. Gerontius then sings his dying song, _Novissima hora est_, and the following full chorus, ‘Go forth upon thy journey,’ brings the first part to a close. The prelude to the second part pictures the soul’s journey. Gerontius’ first utterance is in a dreamy solo, ‘I went to sleep and now I am refreshed,’ after which the Guardian Angel sings a lovely melody called the ‘Alleluia’--‘My work is done, my task is o’er.’ After a dialogue between the Angel and the Soul, their flight amid howling demons of darkness to the throne of God is pictured in a vividly dramatic scene. The two again engage in dialogue, followed by an impressive chorus of the Angelicals. The Angel then sings ‘We have now passed the gate,’ and after further dialogue the chorus is heard in ‘Glory to Him.’ Further passages between the Soul and the chorus ensue, when the Angelicals join in an exultant chorus, ‘Praise to the Holiest in the height.’ In the silence following, the Soul hears the distant voices of men on earth. The Angel’s explanation of this is interrupted by a virile bass solo sung by the Angel of Agony, ‘Jesu, by that shuddering dread.’ The Angel then repeats the ‘Alleluia’ given in Part I and continues, amid the choruses of Angelicals and souls in purgatory, in a beautiful melody, ‘Softly and gently, dearly ransomed soul,’ after which the work closes with the diminishing strains of the chorus of the Angelicals, ‘Praise to the Holiest in the height.’

II

‘The Apostles.’--This, the second of Elgar’s large oratorios and certainly one of his best, was heard for the first time at the Birmingham Festival, on Oct. 3, 1903. That Elgar had in mind the writing of a trilogy, of which ‘The Apostles’ is the first part, is evidenced by his statement in the preface of this work that he had long desired ‘to compose an oratorio which should embody the calling of the Apostles, their teaching (schooling) and their mission, culminating in the establishment of the Church among the Gentiles. The present work carries out the first portion of the scheme; the second portion remains for a future occasion.’ The text is an unusually good one, Elgar himself having spent years on its compilation from the Scriptures and the Apocrypha. The personages represented are the Virgin and the Angel, soprano; Mary Magdalene, alto; St. John, tenor; Jesus, St. Peter and Judas, basses. The tenor acts also as narrator. The leading motive is even more extensively used than in ‘The Dream of Gerontius,’ and the orchestra, which is large and augmented by the shofar (ancient Hebrew trumpet), presents the most important of the themes in the prelude, thus making it a sort of musical epitome of the whole work. The text is grouped into two large parts, with three scenes in the first part and four in the second.

In the first scene of Part I, ‘The Calling of the Apostles,’ after the statement that Jesus had spent the night in prayer on the mountain, there follows the dawn, proclaimed by the watchers on the roof of the Temple. The shofar, which announces the daybreak in Jewish synagogues, at this point is heard in the orchestra. From within the Temple comes the response, ‘It is a good thing to give thanks.’ The calling of the apostles now follows and closes the scene. The second scene, ‘By the Wayside,’ discloses Jesus teaching the people the Beatitudes. The third scene, ‘By the Sea of Galilee,’ depicts the repentance and regeneration of Mary Magdalene, which is one of the finest portions of the work. It also sets forth Jesus’ calming of the storm and his walking on the water. The second part begins with the fourth scene, ‘The Betrayal,’ which includes the scenes in Gethsemane, in the palace of the High Priest and without the Temple. No other composer has treated the betrayal at such length and it contains some of the most touching passages of the whole work, among them the short chorus, ‘And the Lord looked upon Peter and he went out and wept bitterly.’ In the fifth scene, ‘Golgotha,’ Jesus’ words, ‘_Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?_’ are not spoken, but their meaning is poignantly expressed in a few introductory measures by the orchestra, after which follows a short, impressive choral phrase of four measures, ‘Truly this was the Son of God.’ The sixth is a short scene ‘At the Sepulchre’ and the seventh and last, ‘The Ascension,’ is characterized by remarkable ensemble passages of great sonority, the voices being grouped as follows: ‘In Heaven’ (mystic chorus of female voices in two groups) and ‘On Earth’ (four solo voices and male chorus of the apostles). This section is quite long and elaborate and leads to a mighty ‘Alleluia,’ gradually diminishing to a _pianissimo_ close.

‘The Kingdom,’ which Elgar wrote for and produced at the Birmingham Festival, Oct. 3, 1906, is the second portion of the trilogy anticipated in the composer’s preface to ‘The Apostles’--the third portion, though promised, has not yet appeared. In order to set forth the relation of the two works to each other, they were performed at this festival in the order in which they were conceived. Much of the ‘leading motive’ material of ‘The Apostles’ is also used in ‘The Kingdom,’ thereby establishing a close unity between the two works. The oratorio, the religious theme of which is the establishment of the Church at Jerusalem, consists of five divisions: (1) In the Upper Room; (2) At the Beautiful Gate (The Morn of Pentecost); (3) Pentecost (In the Upper Room. In Solomon’s Porch); (4) The Sign of Healing (At the Beautiful Gate. The Arrest); (5) The Upper Room (In Fellowship. The Breaking of Bread. The Prayers). The persons represented are The Virgin Mary, soprano; Mary Magdalene, alto; St. John, tenor; and St. Peter, bass; the chorus represents the disciples, the holy women and the people.

After a long orchestral introduction, in which the important themes are stated and developed, comes the opening chorus of disciples and holy women together with the quartet of soloists, ‘Seek first the Kingdom of God,’ as they are all gathered in the Upper Room. After Peter leads in the celebration of the Eucharist by the breaking of bread, they sing a hymn of praise and there follows a discussion, led by Peter, as to the choosing of a successor to fill Judas’ place. The second division opens with a duet of the two Marys at the Beautiful Gate, leading directly into section three, ‘Pentecost,’ which is the longest of the work and is ushered in by a tenor solo, stating that they were ‘all with one accord in one place.’ The chorus of disciples alternates with the mystic chorus of female voices, in a description of the descent of the Holy Ghost, the music, with the added organ in the accompaniment, being very effective. ‘In Solomon’s Porch’ sets forth the ‘speaking in other tongues’ and Peter’s admonition, ‘Repent and be baptized.’ The fourth section deals with the healing of the lame man at the Beautiful Gate, after which Peter and John are arrested because they preached the resurrection of Jesus, and here the music becomes very dramatic. It closes with Mary’s lovely meditation, ‘The sun goeth down,’ in which two old Hebrew hymns are used. The fifth section, with the disciples and holy women again gathered in the Upper Room, opens with a joyful, almost triumphant chorus, ‘The voice of joy is in the dwelling of the righteous,’ after which follows ‘The Breaking of Bread’ and ‘The Lord’s Prayer.’ A quiet closing chorus, ‘Thou, O Lord, art our Father,’ is sung by chorus and soloists.

‘The Music Makers,’ Elgar’s opus 69, published in 1912, is a setting of an ode by Arthur O’Shaughnessy for contralto solo, chorus and orchestra, the chorus bearing the brunt of the vocal work. An idea of the content is given in the first stanza:

‘We are the music makers, And we are the dreamers of dreams, Wandering by the lone sea-breakers, And sitting by desolate streams;-- Word-losers and world-forsakers, On whom the pale moon gleams; Yet we are the movers and shakers Of the world for ever, it seems,’

after which the achievements of the Music Makers are recited in the building of ‘the world’s great cities’ and the fashioning of ‘an empire’s glory.’ Especially significant is the stanza beginning:

‘A breath of our inspiration Is the life of each generation’;

and concluding with:

‘Till our dream shall become their present, And their work in the world be done.’

The work opens with an orchestral prelude, very melodious and noble in style, which, after a strong climax, leads into the first chorus, ‘We are the music makers.’ This enters softly and rises to tremendous force at the words, ‘and shakers of the world for ever.’ The composition abounds in striking contrasts of dynamics and rhythm, and while portions of it are sung in a narrative manner, there are exceedingly dramatic passages and in these Elgar calls the orchestra to his aid most effectively. The whole work is grateful for singers and full of color. Possibly the loveliest part of it is the section comprising the fourth and fifth stanzas, beginning with the above quotation, ‘A breath of our inspiration,’ and including the first contralto solo and obbligato.

III

The elder composers, who first set the stream of English music in the direction of original forms of expression, have not been idle in the years since 1900. Alexander C. Mackenzie (born 1847) contributed to the Leeds Festival of 1904 a cantata, ‘The Witch’s Daughter,’ adapted from Whittier; Henry Coward (born 1852) composed ‘Gareth and Linet,’ a musical romance of large proportions based on Malory’s _Morte D’Arthur_ for the Sheffield Festival of 1902; and Frederick H. Cowen (born 1852) wrote for the Cardiff Festival of 1900 an oratorio, ‘The Veil,’ the text of which is taken from Robert Buchanan’s deeply mystical poem, ‘The Book of Orm,’ an apologia for the vindication of the ways of God to man, justifying death and sorrow and evil. The work is divided into the following sections: 1, The Veil Woven; 2, Earth the Mother; 3, The Dream of the World without Death; 4, The Soul and the Dwelling; 5, Songs of Seeking; 6, The Lifting of the Veil.

The veteran composer, C. Hubert H. Parry (born 1848), has been the most active of this group, no less than three important choral compositions having come from his pen in the first decade of the century. ‘War and Peace’ (1903) is a symphonic ode (text by the composer) in ten numbers, in which ‘the fallen angels, Pride and Hate,’ are pictured as the arch-instigators of all strife. The recompense comes after these furies have ‘drunk the lust of blood.’ Numbers entitled ‘Comradeship,’ ‘Home-Coming,’ ‘Song of Peace,’ and ‘Home,’ lead to a stirring and noble ‘Marching Song of Peace’ and a final prayer, ‘Grant us Thy peace, Lord.’ The Norfolk and Norwich Festival of 1905 brought out his setting in cantata form of Browning’s well-known ‘The Pied Piper of Hamelin.’ Here the scholarly writer of dignified choral counterpoint becomes genuinely humorous as the tale unfolds how the rats ravaged ‘Hamelin town by famous Hanover city,’ a characteristic little figure being used to portray the gnawing of the rats. It is rather simple in style and an atmosphere of folk-melody and legend pervades the work. ‘The Vision of Life,’ a symphonic poem for soprano and bass solos, chorus and orchestra, received its first performance at the Cardiff Festival, 1907. The poem by the composer presents a vision of the course of man. Beginning with the savage and cave-dweller, it pictures Greek culture with its worship of the beautiful, the might of Rome with its passion for power which in time gives way to the teachings of Christianity; then comes the mad fury of the French Revolution, the oppression of the slave and the domination of pride--and all finally ‘yields to the spirit of love and of truth’ and the vision pictures a future of peace when

‘Hope and helpfulness unwearied Make all the path a radiant mead; And brother sees in the eyes of brother The trust that makes toil’s best reward.’

The solo voices are The Dreamer and The Spirit of the Vision, and the musical treatment of solo and choral parts is noble and masterful.

The untimely death of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor in 1912 (he was born in 1875) cut short a career that began with unusual promise. Though none of his later works possesses the spontaneity and musical charm of the ‘Hiawatha’ cantatas, he has produced several fine choral works since 1900. ‘The Blind Girl of Castél Cuillé,’ written for the Leeds Festival of 1901, is a setting of Longfellow’s translation of a Gascon poem which relates the story of a blind girl who was deserted by her lover for another maiden and who, heart-broken, dies at the latter’s wedding. ‘Meg Blane’ (a Rhapsody of the Sea by Robert Buchanan) followed in 1902 and was first performed at the Sheffield Musical Festival of the same year. The text weirdly describes the terrors of the sea. ‘The Atonement,’ which closely follows the sequence of the Gospel narratives of the Passion, was given at the Hereford Festival, 1903, and ‘Kubla Khan,’ by the Handel Society in 1906. The ‘Bon-Bon Suite,’ which appeared in 1908, is a setting of six poems by Thomas Moore for baritone solo, chorus and orchestra. The poems are ‘The Magic Mirror,’ ‘The Fairy Boat,’ ‘To Rosa,’ ‘Love and Hymen,’ ‘The Watchman,’ and ‘Say, What Shall We Dance?’ The words of these poems have little relationship to each other, though the key to the whole is probably in the first poem, ‘The Magic Mirror.’ ‘Endymion’s Dream,’ for soprano and tenor solos, chorus and orchestra, was published in 1910. The words are by C. R. B. Barrett and are based on the ancient legend of Endymion, originally a name for the Sun as he sinks into the sea. In the later legend, Endymion, a priest of Jove, while sacrificing, prayed for everlasting youth. This was granted, but coupled with eternal sleep. Mercury carried him to Mount Latmos and Selene, the Moon Goddess, nightly gazed down upon him lovingly. Coleridge-Taylor’s last cantata was ‘A Tale of Old Japan,’ poem by Alfred Noyes, which was published in 1911. It is the quaint, sad story of the unrequited love of little Kimi for the great painter Sawara, and the music, which is rhapsodical in character, is full of charming touches of ‘local color.’ Solo voices take an important share of the work.

IV

Granville Bantock, born Aug. 7, 1868, in London, is usually classed as one of the ‘middle group’ of modern English composers, to which Sir Edward Elgar belongs, in distinction to the so-called ‘post-Elgarians.’ Bantock is a composer endowed with vivid imagination and a strong and distinct musical personality, exemplified in a number of important works. He has written much for orchestra, notably the symphonic poems: ‘Thalaba the Destroyer’ (after Southey), given in London, 1902; ‘Dante and Beatrice’ (Birmingham, 1903); the comedy-overture ‘The Pierrot of the Minute,’ and the symphonic drama ‘Fifine at the Fair’ (Birmingham, 1912), and, aside from a number of other works, the two orchestral scenes ‘Processional’ and ‘Yaga-Naut,’ fragments of a monster cycle, ‘The Curse of Kehama,’ never completed.

Bantock’s leaning toward Orientalism in his music is shown in his great choral works as well as in his symphonic compositions. To say nothing of his one-act opera ‘The Pearl of Iran,’ his six books of Oriental songs (Arabian, Japanese, Egyptian, Persian, Indian, Chinese), his ‘Ferishtah’s Fancies’ (Browning), for soprano and orchestra, and the ‘Five Ghazals of Hafiz,’ for baritone and orchestra, we have his choral works, ‘The Fire Worshippers’ and ‘Omar Khayyam,’ both constructed on large lines.

‘The Fire Worshippers’ is a dramatic cantata in six scenes for chorus, solos and orchestra, a work of considerable extent and making many demands on the singers, whose story is laid in the ancient Persia of the Magi. Its overture was performed, singly, in 1892, at a Royal College of Music concert, but the work was not given in its entirety until 1910. Though ‘rich in feeling and sumptuous in tissue, with a curious blend of sensuousness and spirituality,’ it has never secured the meed of favor accorded the composer’s ‘Omar Khayyam.’

In this work, ‘a union of inspired poetry with inspired music,’ to quote Rosa Newmarch, we have the composer at his best. It presents in a musical setting no less than 54 stanzas of ‘The Rubaiyat,’ about half the book, for a tremendous chorus, three solo voices and a large orchestra. In his music Bantock has given these Epicurean drinking-songs of Mohammedan Persia their inner spiritual significance. He emphasizes their dramatic quality as songs of revolt against Koranic law and idealizes them as a defiance of reason and nature against religious bigotry. The work is inordinately long, judged by ordinary standards, and difficult of performance; yet the composer’s tendency toward frequent modulation is always balanced by a sure sense of beauty and proportion. From the muezzin’s call to prayer at sunset ‘the work moves on from mood to mood, from contrast to contrast--conflict and repose, love and death, regnant glory and the dust of oblivion--in a wonderful and strenuous comment on human existence.’ The more directly lyric stanzas are assigned to the Poet (tenor) and the Beloved (contralto); the philosophical reflections on the eternal ‘Yea and Nay’ of human existence are placed in the mouth of the Philosopher (baritone). The love duets, especially ‘When you and I behind the veil,’ are rich in haunting charm, and the choruses glow with vivid color. Bantock’s musical Orientalism is not a mere matter of externals, of rhythms, of vocal arabesques and percussion-effects. It goes far deeper and interprets the soul of the Orient as Pierre Loti has done in his prose poems. And on hearing Bantock’s ‘Rubaiyat’ it seems, as Mrs. Newmarch beautifully puts it, ‘as though the northern wind had scattered a fresh shower of rose leaves upon the grave of Omar Khayyam.’

Nor has Bantock been insensible to the appeal of the myths of ancient Hellas. A ‘choral symphony’ set to Swinburne’s beautiful ‘Atalanta in Calydon,’ in twenty parts, _a cappella_, performed 1912 at the Manchester Festival, bears witness to the fact. It is said to be the most difficult work ever written for unaccompanied chorus, the final movement in particular taxing the voices to the utmost. In it the composer has blazed new paths of choral effect by means of groupings of variously constituted choirs, and among other of its movements a _scherzo_ for female voices is especially praised. Bantock’s other secular choral works include: ‘The Time Spirit,’ a rhapsody for chorus and orchestra (first heard at Gloucester Festival, 1904); three ‘Cavalier Tunes’ for male chorus, ‘God Save the King,’ for chorus and orchestra, and various choruses for female and mixed voices, among which might be mentioned ‘On Himalay,’ all fine examples of original and harmonious part-writing.

In the field of sacred music Bantock has also been active. A ‘Mass in B-flat major’ for male voices (1893), an anthem, a setting of the 82d Psalm, and the two oratorios ‘Christ in the Desert’ (Gloucester Festival, 1907) and ‘Gethsemane,’ should be mentioned. Of these the latter is the more important and was given at the Gloucester Festival of 1910. An episode from the life of Christ, it has been written for baritone solo, chorus, orchestra and organ to biblical words. A richly ornamented orchestral prelude in A-flat is succeeded by a species of symphony for baritone, orchestra and chorus in four sections: ‘In the Garden,’ ‘The Agony,’ ‘The Prayer,’ ‘Betrayal.’ Rhythmic in movement and clear in expression, its music is especially dramatic in the ‘Betrayal Scene,’ which leads over to a chorus followed by a short solo and an eight-part choral finale.

V

In Joseph Holbrooke, born July 6, 1878, in Croydon, we have, in contrast to Bantock, a member of that ultra-modern English school of composition of which Cyril Scott, ‘the English Debussy,’ is perhaps the best known exponent. Holbrooke has attracted wide attention because of his daring individuality and his boldness of invention, as well as the disregard for convention shown in his brilliantly colored mode of scoring for orchestra. He has chosen Edgar Allan Poe as his poet _par excellence_ and his most important choral and orchestral works (among the latter ‘The Raven’ (1900), ‘Ulalume,’ ‘The Haunted Palace,’ ‘The Masque of the Red Death’) are associated with the verse of the American poet.

At the Birmingham Festival of 1906 ‘The Bells,’ ‘the Mohammedan-hated Bells’ of Poe and Holbrooke, jostled Bantock’s ‘Omar Khayyam,’ when heard for the first time. With remarkable breadth of tonal laying-out, and an incessant employment of chords of the eleventh and thirteenth, the resonant clamor of the bells is brought out in the work with clever programmatic effect, in perfect accord with Poe’s words. A long orchestral prelude leads weirdly over into the first chorus, in A minor. Following this come four choral numbers, ‘Sledge-Bells,’ ‘Wedding-Bells’ (female voices), ‘Alarm Bells’ and ‘Iron Bells,’ each ringing the changes on the titular suggestion in appropriate tonal inflections. Holbrooke’s choral effects throughout are incisive and are heightened by a remarkable fidelity to his text.

‘Byron’ (Poem No. 6) for chorus and orchestra, given at Leeds, Dec. 7, 1904, is a setting of Keats’ ‘Sonnet to Byron,’ beginning ‘Byron, how sweetly sad thy melody.’ As regards form it is modelled somewhat on Beethoven’s ‘Choral Symphony,’ but the orchestra is more continuously active and its relation to the poem more intimate. The orchestra section, in fact, is about half the work and it may be played separately as a symphonic poem without its choral complement, a _coda_ being provided for the purpose. There is some beautiful passage-work for the clarinet in the orchestral score and the part-writing is worthy of all praise.

‘Queen Mab’ (Poem No. 5) for chorus and orchestra, also heard at Leeds (1904), is only incidentally choral and interest is largely centred in the orchestral part. The ‘Dramatic Choral Symphony’ (homage to E. A. Poe), written around quotations from Poe’s writings and philosophical in trend, may be said to suffer to some extent from the difficulty of effectively setting philosophical reflection to music. This disadvantage is even more marked in ‘Apollo and the Seaman,’ a ‘Dramatic Symphony with Choral Ending for Male Choir,’ which was produced in Queen’s Hall, London, in 1908. To quote a French critic:[88] ‘Mr. Holbrooke, eager to show his originality, had this “illuminated symphony” given in quite a special way. Scriabine had already added chord projections of light to his orchestra, and thought of joining perfumes to them in his future scores. Mr. Holbrooke was content with a projection of the magic-lantern kind. Queen’s Hall was plunged into obscurity and the text of Mr. Trench’s poem was projected on the sheet, Mr. Holbrooke’s chords sounding forth in the meantime. Then, announced by the stroke of a gong, there appeared an enormous head of Apollo and, after a long pedal-point suggesting the beginning of _Rheingold_, the seance went on, proving conclusively that there is nothing less musical (save possibly Nietzsche) than this dialogue between a sailor and Apollo, disguised as a merchant, upon the immortality of the soul and other poetic topics.’

Joseph Holbrooke has written a number of individual anthems and choruses in addition to these larger works, among them the ‘dramatic choral song (No. 2)’ entitled ‘To Zanthe’ (words by Poe), not to forget the choruses in his opera ‘The Children of Don and Dylan.’ That his is a great talent is not to be denied; yet the consensus of opinion seems to agree that he has not as yet ‘found’ himself.

Before passing on to a consideration of the work of Henry Walford Davies, whose musical sympathies are those of the Elgarian school rather than those of the English modernists, we will refer, briefly, to the choral compositions of the younger English followers of Scott and Holbrooke.

Gustav von Holst, born 1874, in Cheltenham, a pupil of Stanford, has written some notable works: an _Ave Maria_ for eight-part female chorus; female choruses with orchestra in the masque ‘The Vision of Dame Christian’ (1909); various cantatas and a fine tetralogy of settings from the sacred books of India, the hymns from the Rig-Veda, for chorus and orchestra.

Percy Grainger, born July 8, 1882, at Brighton, near Melbourne, Australia, has also contributed some charming lighter numbers, in unusual combinations, to modern English choral literature. Among them are his Kipling Choruses: the ‘Father and Daughter,’ the old Faröe Island ballad, arranged for five solo voices (male), chorus, strings, brass, mandolins and guitars; and the sparkling ‘Strathspey,’ combined with several jigs and the fine old sea chanty, ‘What shall we do with a drunken sailor,’ sung by male quartet to the accompaniment of eight strings, two guitars, xylophone, flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon and concertina.

Ralph Vaughan Williams, born at Down Amprey, Oct. 12, 1872, supplies, as it were, a connecting link between the Elgarians and the post-Elgarians, the more academic and the more revolutionary among present-day English composers. His principal choral works are: ‘Willow Wood,’ a cantata (Liverpool, 1909), and two extended compositions for voices and orchestra, ‘A Sea Symphony’ and ‘Toward the Unknown Regions’ (Leeds Festival, 1907), both to poems by Walt Whitman, who with Williams seems to take the place that Poe does with Holbrooke.

In Henry Walford Davies, born Sept. 6, 1869, at Ostwestry, we have another composer of serious choral music along traditional lines, yet one not unaffected by modern tendencies. His music is rich in expression, artistic conscientiousness and idealism, and his two most important works are undoubtedly the oratorio ‘The Temple,’ and ‘Everyman,’ a musical setting of a mediæval morality, the original suggestion for which, like that of similar choral works in modern Germany, no doubt came from France. The text, with few exceptions, has been taken from the old English morality play: God commands Death to bring Everyman (that is, Man in general) before Him for judgment. In vain Everyman seeks companions among his servants, friends and ‘the rich’ for a journey whence none return; yet at length finds ready to accompany him (after lengthy moral disquisitions) comrades in the shape of ‘Good Deeds,’ ‘Knowledge,’ ‘Discretion,’ ‘Strength,’ ‘Beauty’ and ‘Five Wits.’ The choral music throughout is spontaneous, vivid and realistic. ‘Everyman’ was composed for the Leeds Festival of 1904, at which it scored a marked success. A short prelude of thirty-two measures is the keynote to the entire work and leads directly to a prologue (addressed to the audience), delivered by bass, contralto, soprano and tenor. The chorus of ‘laughing, feasting rich men, reclining upon their cushions, is a splendid bit of musical realism, which shows better than any theoretical disquisition how standards of taste in English oratorio have satisfactorily rid themselves of Puritanic influences in the course of years.’[89] Davies’ biblical oratorio, ‘The Temple’ (Worcester Festival, 1902), is an oratorio pure and simple, austerely beautiful and rather complex in its choral writing, but lacking, perhaps, the inspirational freshness of its more dramatic successor. ‘The Song of Thanksgiving’ is generally considered the finest single number in the score.

Davies has also composed: ‘Hervé Riel’ (Browning) for baritone solo, chorus and orchestra (Royal College of Music, 1895); ‘Four Songs of Innocence’ (part-songs for female voices, 1894); ‘Ode to Time’ (baritone solo, chorus and orchestra) and ‘Noble Numbers’ (a cycle of 18 songs for solo voices, chorus and orchestra); ‘The Three Jovial Huntsmen’ (cantata with orchestra, 1900); a ‘Morning and Evening Service’ and a ‘Cathedral Service’ and ‘Lift up your hearts’ (Hereford Music Festival, 1906).

Among other names which seem to call for mention in connection with recent English choral writing are: Bradley Rootham (a fine cantata to Charles Kingsley’s ‘Andromeda,’ for solos, chorus and orchestra); Alexander M. McLean (a cantata, ‘The Annunciation,’ influenced by Reger, 1909); Henry Wood (‘Elijah,’ 1902); Alfred Herbert Brewer (‘The Holy Innocents,’ oratorio, 1904, ‘Emmaus’); Harvey Lohr, F. W. Humberston and C. Lee Williams.

VI

Conditions in contemporaneous American choral writing are quite analogous to those in England. Several of our most prominent choral writers had already won substantial recognition before the twentieth century opened. Foremost among these elder composers who have continued to write in the concert forms of oratorio and cantata are George W. Chadwick (born 1854) and Horatio W. Parker (born 1863). But a host of younger composers has arisen to seek artistic preferment in this field. This augmented interest is no doubt due in part to the remarkable increase in the number of choral societies in the United States beginning in the last decade of the nineteenth century and the consequent increase in the demand for choral novelties; but it is due in still larger part to the increased interest in composition itself in the United States, an interest that has been fostered and nourished by a noticeably greater willingness on the part of the American public in the most recent years to receive with some favor really meritorious works by native composers. This meed of home recognition, the greatest possible stimulus to all creative purpose, will no doubt increase in measure with the years.

Horatio Parker has added several to his already long list of choral works given in