Music of the Month: John Ireland by H. E. Wortham Part I

John Ireland (1879–1962) was a British composer whose music evokes the introspective spirit of early 20th-century England. Deeply influenced by the landscapes of Sussex and the Channel Islands, his works often blend lyrical melancholy with mystical overtones. Best known for his piano miniatures, songs, and chamber music, Ireland also composed orchestral pieces marked by emotional depth and harmonic richness. A teacher to Benjamin Britten, he bridged Romanticism and emerging modernist currents. Sensitive and reclusive, Ireland found consolation in literature and nature, writing music that resonates with personal reflection and quiet intensity - an artistic voice both rooted and visionary.

Hugh Evelyn Wortham (1884–1959) was a British biographer, journalist, and music critic known for his wide-ranging cultural commentary and historical insight. Educated at King's College, Cambridge, Wortham began his career as a foreign correspondent in Egypt before becoming a prolific author and columnist. His writings spanned biography, politics, and religion, with notable works including A Musical Odyssey (1924), reflecting his deep engagement with music criticism. From 1934 until his death, he penned the "London Day by Day" column in the Daily Telegraph under the pseudonym "Peterborough," blending wit with sharp observation.

The present essay was published in the Apollo journal, published during August 1928. This is a leading monthly art magazine, founded in 1925, covering visual arts from antiquity to contemporary, with scholarly depth. It features exhibition reviews, art-world news, collector profiles, interviews, and expert commentary, serving as a vital resource for art historians, curators, and enthusiasts.

THE remark of a Viennese, to whom I was recently talking about music, that he considered John Ireland to be the most characteristically English of our composers induces me to devote these lines to his work, the more readily since Ireland has never been estimated quite at his true worth. At one time he enjoyed what was perhaps an excessive popularity through some of his songs, which showed the influence of his master, Stanford, [1] himself the greatest song-writer this country has produced, certainly since Arne and probably since Purcell, and through one or two piano pieces - Chelsea Reach [2] being the best known - of an impressionist tendency. Fame, however, which is easily won is as easily lost, and John Ireland, who has not, I think, produced any best-sellers comparable with these written a decade ago, has never escaped association with the rather facile success he then achieved. The result is that an extremely conscientious and painstaking artist has been, to a certain extent, misjudged by the smaller public upon which ultimately rests the responsibility of making reputations. Yet, in many ways there is no more interesting composer in England today. He is more definitely in the main stream of our music than any of his contemporaries, more definitely than Bax, Holst or Vaughan Williams; he is more typically English than any of these, and hence perhaps the growing popularity of his chamber music, of which the two sonatas for piano and violin enjoy already a European reputation. [3] Their melodic freshness, their clear, logical construction, based on a style which in these examples at any rate avoids either intense emotionalism (a German foible) or over-elaboration of craftsmanship (a French weakness), make them attractive to any audience at a first hearing, and further acquaintanceship only strengthens one’s first pleasurable feelings.

One of the reasons why John Ireland is apt to be undervalued is that the bulk of his music is small; he has not a great number of published works above his name. For a man of fifty [4] this may be, and often is, put down to a weakness in the inspirational impulse. Fecundity in the past has always been looked on as a merit, whether the offspring were of a man’s loins or a man’s brains. But when one looks through the catalogues of the masters, and thinks of the long “opus” list, with its consequent lack of self-criticism, that has marked almost every composer, both great and small, one begins to see that birth-control might be as usefully applied in the one case as in the other. How much better it would have been for music if Schubert had halved his work and given nothing to the world that had not the true impress of his genius! What is true of the mightiest is still truer of the second raters, amongst whom move Schumann, and truest of all of the great crowd of composers whose music has returned to the quarry of silence from which they hewed it so easily. How many of Raff’s two hundred odd works [5] have you ever heard? Do you know that Spohr, once the idol of his age, wrote nine symphonies, seventeen violin concertos, and thirty-three string quartets? [6] With these examples before one, the restraint of John Ireland in having suppressed all the work he composed before he was thirty-four seems highly commendable. He understands, at any rate, that self-criticism is a valuable asset in the artist. What he wrote in early manhood his more mature judgment found wanting. So, he withdrew it, and the consequence is that we have practically nothing of his published which was composed more than some sixteen years ago. Amongst this collection there are only two orchestral pieces, a prelude dating from 1913, The Forgotten Rite, [7] which is an example of the “nature-worship mood” that has almost degenerated into a convention amongst modern English composers, and a symphonic rhapsody, Mai-Dun, [8] written eight years ago, that does not often, however, find its way into the programmes of our symphony concerts. Ireland, so far, has not shown himself to have any great interest in the problems of colour and timbres which present themselves to the symphonist, and so he does not take kindly to the orchestra.

Notes:

[1] After some unsuccessful approaches and rejection, Ireland became a pupil of composer, music teacher, and conductor, Sir Charles Villiers Stanford (1852-1924). Muriel Searle (John Ireland: The Man and his Music, Midas Books, 1979) wrote “Ireland worked with his hero from 1897 to 1901, thus earning the standard biographical entry for his generation, 'studied under Stanford'.” The roll call of Stanford’s pupils from that era is striking. Alongside John Ireland were Frank Bridge, Rutland Boughton, Gustav Holst, George Dyson, and Ralph Vaughan Williams.

[2] Chelsea Reach was the first of John Ireland’s London Pieces. These evoke the capital’s moods with impressionistic charm - wistful, bustling, and poetic. Each movement presents a distinct atmosphere, from foggy introspection to vibrant street scenes and nostalgic reverie. The other two were Ragamuffin and Soho Forenoons.

[3] Ireland’s Sonata No.1 in D minor for violin and piano was completed in 1909. It won the first prize in the important Cobbett Chamber Music Competition of that year. The Sonata No.2 in A minor was written between 1915 and 1917.

[4] Ireland was only 49 years old, just shy of his 50th birthday when this essay was published.

[5] Over recent years, Joachim Raff (1822-82) has been enjoying a modest revival. Once a leading Romantic figure, he was long neglected, but recent recordings and scholarship have renewed interest in his symphonies and chamber works.

[6] Louis Spohr (1784-1859) is currently regarded as a significant but overshadowed figure of early Romanticism. Once celebrated, his music fell into obscurity, though recent scholarship and recordings have prompted a modest revival. His innovations in conducting, chamber music, and performance practice are increasingly recognised, even if his compositions remain selectively appreciated. There was a Spohr Society in Great Britain (now defunct) and one very much active in the USA.

[7] John Ireland’s The Forgotten Rite (1913) summons a misty, ancient atmosphere, inspired by pagan ritual inspired by the Welsh author Arthur Machen’s mysticism. Its haunting harmonies and slow, brooding pace evoke a dreamlike procession through shadowed landscapes and half-remembered spiritual lore.

[8] Mai-Dun (1921) evokes the gloomy power of an ancient hillfort. Inspired by Thomas Hardy’s Wessex, its orchestral textures suggest mythic struggle, windswept grandeur, and a timeless, almost primeval sense of place and memory.

To be concluded…

Natale Veneziano: “Christmas polyphony in the Venice of Monteverdi.”

Sometimes it can be a valuable experience to step outside one’s comfort zone. For me, the Italian and German composers on this beautiful new release from Arcana is a closed book. Over the years, I have heard music by Monteverdi, Schütz, and Gabrielli, but I have never “got into” it. Time has not been taken to explore this rich heritage from the 16th and 17th centuries. I know that the loss is all mine, but one cannot major in everything, far less listen to all genres and periods. So, it has been a pleasure to put Bach, the Romantics, the 12-tone brigade, and the English Pastoral School to one side for a few hours.

The opening paragraph of the booklet explains that all the works on this disc could be used in the “liturgies of the Christmas Festivities,” and that the repertoire will encompass several of the foremost musicians active in Venice during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, spanning from Andrea Gabrieli - whose death in 1585 marked the close of the Renaissance era’s early Venetian school - to Francesco Cavalli, who died in 1676, emblematic of the city’s flourishing Baroque tradition nearly a century later.

The greater portion of this disc is given to the work of Claudio Monteverdi written between 1640 and 1650. Five psalms are heard here. The liner notes explain that these lack “explicit references to the birth of the Redeemer,” however they could certainly have been used in the liturgy at Christmastide. Dixit dominus (Psalm 110) which would have been sung at the commencement of Vespers, provides a “continuous alteration of ripieno (full ensemble or chorus) sections and solo parts” rather than antiphonally. Monteverdi’s dramatic setting of Psalm 111 Confitebor tibi Domine combines an expressive trio in dialogue with a five-part ripieno and continuo. The liner notes give an apposite description of the five-voice Beatus vir (Psalm 112, not 111 as stated in the booklet: 111 is the Vulgate numbering) “which proceeds like a moto perpetuo over which a series of lively motifs are interwoven.” Laudate pueri Dominum, takes its text from Psalm 113. It is in five voices which are instructed to sing “Da Cappella” – In the style of the Chapel – in other words unaccompanied. Monteverdi’s final contribution is Psalm 117, Laudate Dominum. Written for eight voices, it sets two solo sopranos in dialogue with the full ensemble, advancing through a series of sharply contrasting episodes, each marked by its own discrete tempo.

The opening track is Heinrich Schütz’s Hodie Christus natus est, SWV456 (c.1610). Although a German composer, he studied in Venice with Gabrieli between 1609-12. This is a splendid Christmas motet mirroring both the joy and solemnity of the Nativity. The Alleluias are especially exuberant.

Giovanni Bassano’s Quem vidistis pastores? (1598) is an eight-voice motet giving an effective dialogue between the angels and the shepherds. It is part of the collection Motetti per concerti ecclesiastici (1598). Bassano was a music teacher at the seminary of St Mark’s.

The earliest piece on this album comes from Andrea Gabrieli, who was onetime organist at St Mark’s Cathedral in Venice. His 7-part motet, Angelus ad pastores ait (1587), dense in sound but somehow always luminous. An ideal start to the Christmas festivities. His nephew, Giovanni Gabrieli’s O Jesu mi dulcissime (1615) is in eight parts. It is quiet, intimate and a touch melancholic.

Francesco Cavalli was a Venetian Baroque composer, singer, and organist: he was a student of Monteverdi. He is represented on this disc by two pieces, both Marian antiphons – a seasonal hymn sung in honour of the Virgin Mary. The first, Alma redemptoris (1656) is for five voices with “occasional solo” introduced into the typically madrigalian structure. The Salve Regina (1656) is a “madrigal” for four voices that successfully fuses the sacred and the theatrical.

The concert closes with Alessandro Grandi’s Magnificat a 8 voci (1629) which is taken from the collection Salmi a otto brevi published in Venice in 1629, the year before the plague. It is an outstanding setting for double choir and continuo. Sadly, Grandi died during one of the plague epidemics.

Il Pomo d’Oro Choir was founded in 2021. They debuted with the already established orchestra of the same name, with Handel’s Theodora. Directed by Giuseppe Maletto, the choir brings together seasoned specialists in early Italian music. Their first solo album featured Gesualdo’s Sacrae Cantiones I, landmark 17th-century sacred motets. Forthcoming projects include Bach’s St John’s Passion and sacred works by Carissimi, Gabrieli, Monteverdi, and Cavalli. They are supported on this disc by a continuo of organ, harp and violine.

The booklet gives a good introduction to the music: they are printed in English, French, and Italian. The Latin texts are given in translation. Resumes of Il Pomo d’Oro (The Golden Apple) and their director Giuseppe Maletto are included as well as a few black and white photographs. Sadly, the font is small, and I was unable to find an online file.

My only niggle is that this beautiful music was recorded in Turin (wonderful city) and not in La Serenissima itself. But that is being unreasonable on my part...

I was impressed with the purity of the singing, the clarity of the diction, and the deep sense of religious conviction implied by the texts. All this is enhanced by an ideal recording.

“Christmas polyphony in the Venice of Monteverdi” indeed. This beautifully performed programme has opened a window onto a rich, unfamiliar world - one I am grateful to have glimpsed. Il Pomo d’Oro’s precision make a compelling case for this radiant Christmas repertoire.

Track Listing:
Heinrich Schütz (1585-1672)
Hodie Christus natus est, SWV456 (c.1610)
Claudio Monteverdi (1567-1643)
Dixit Dominus I, SV191 (1650)
Andrea Gabrieli (1532/33-85)
Angelus ad pastores ait (1587)
Claudio Monteverdi
Confitebor tibi Domine I, SV265 (1640)
Giovanni Bassano (ca.1560-1617)
Quem vidistis pastores? (1598)
Claudio Monteverdi
Beatus vir II, SV269 (1640)
Giovanni Gabrieli (c.1554/57-1612)
O Jesu mi dulcissime (1615)
Claudio Monteverdi
Laudate pueri Dominum, SV196 (1640)
Francesco Cavalli (1602-76)
Alma redemptoris mater (1656)
Claudio Monteverdi
Laudate Dominum III, SV274 (1640)
Francesco Cavalli
Salve Regina (1656)
Alessandro Grandi (1590-1630)
Magnificat a 8 voci (1629)
Il Pomo d’Oro/Giuseppe Maletto
rec. 16-21 June 2024, Confraternita dei Santi Rocco e Sebastiano, Cumiana, Turin, Italy
Arcana A584

With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review was first published.

Engelbert Humperdinck’s Hänsel und Gretel: Prelude

Until the early seventies, I genuinely thought Engelbert Humperdinck was just one person - the singer behind “Release Me” and other swooning ballads that filled the airwaves. I had no idea he, Gerry Dorsey, had borrowed his name from a 19th-century German composer whose Hänsel und Gretel helped shape Romantic opera. It was a strange moment of realisation: the pop crooner, all suave charm, and smooth melodies, had nothing to do with the richly orchestrated fairy-tale world of the original Humperdinck. Two artists, separated by nearly a century and a world of style - one defining easy listening, the other steeped in Wagnerian grandeur.

The elder Engelbert Humperdinck was born on 1 September 1854, in Siegburg on the Rhine. He began his musical education at the Cologne Conservatory and quickly excelled in composition, winning the Mozart, Mendelssohn, and Meyerbeer scholarships. These allowed him to study further in Munich and Italy. In Naples in 1880, he caught the attention of Richard Wagner, who later invited him to Venice for a performance of Wagner’s only symphony.

In 1885, he moved to Barcelona to teach composition and lead a quartet at the Royal Conservatory. He returned to Cologne in 1887 and, from 1890, became associated with the Conservatory in Frankfurt. As well as several operas, Humperdinck’s catalogue include songs, piano pieces, and some chamber music. Once upon a time, he was regarded as the individual most likely to carry forward Wagner’s vision of the music-drama. Engelbert Humperdinck died on 27 September 1921 at Neustrelitz, Germany.

Hänsel und Gretel, premiered in 1893 under the baton of Richard Strauss, remains his most enduring work. Originally conceived as a family entertainment with songs for his sister’s children, it evolved into a full-scale opera that captured audiences with its enchanting melodies, vivid orchestration, and dramatic consistency. The score’s use of folk-like tunes, such as the “Evening Prayer,” alongside sophisticated harmonic textures, exemplifies Humperdinck’s unique synthesis of popular and high art traditions.

Often performed around Christmas, this opera captures the wonder and peril of childhood, the warmth of familial love, and the triumph of cleverness over evil - all wrapped in a musically enchanting package.

The opera is based on the Grimm Brothers’ story, adapted by Humperdinck’s sister, Adelheid Wette.

Act I opens in the humble home of Peter the broom-maker. His children, Hansel and Gretel, are left alone and end up dancing instead of working. Their mother scolds them and sends them into the forest to pick strawberries. When Peter returns and learns they have wandered off, he warns of a witch who lures children with sweets and turns them into gingerbread.

Act II finds the children lost in the woods. After a playful duet and growing fear, the Sandman appears and sings them to sleep. In a dreamlike sequence, angels descend to protect them.

Act III begins at dawn. The children discover the witch’s candy-covered house and are captured. But with clever teamwork, they push the witch into her own oven. Freed gingerbread children celebrate, and the reunited family sings a hymn of gratitude.

The American journalist and author described the Prelude:

[It] opens with a prayer theme given out by four horns and two bassoons, which is developed by the strings and other instruments, closing pianissimo. The movement now changes to a Vivace. Accompanied by the wood winds and strings pizzicato, the trumpet sounds a vigorous passage, and as it comes to a close the strings and woodwinds announce a new theme of a nature clearly indicating the nightly orgies of the witch, pierced through at intervals by the trumpet blast. It gradually works up to a climax for full orchestra, leading to a very melodious theme, and this in turn to a dance tempo. These are developed, and the prelude Closes pianissimo with the contents of the introduction.

George P Upton, The Standard Concert Guide, New York, Blue Ribbon Books, 1930

Listen to the Prelude to Engelbert Humperdinck’s Hänsel und Gretel with Sir Georg Solti conducting the Wiener Philharmoniker on YouTube, here.

Early One Morning in Kensington: Music for flute and piano

More than fifty years ago, when I fondly and mistakenly imagined that I might become a composer, I found a remarkable set of books by Ebenezer Prout about composition in a second-hand bookshop in North Wales. I invested in them, and still have them, sad to say largely unread. He is a name that drifts through the history books. This English musicologist, critic, composer and teacher with a Dickensian name, has precious few recordings to his credit. There are a CD of the Clarinet Sonata and a YouTube video of his Symphony No.4: not much to base an appreciation of his achievement.

The present Sonata in A major for flute and pianoforte, op.17 dates from 1882, but as the liner notes are correct in pointing out, there is nothing here that could not have been written in 1832. The models for this essay would include Haydn and Schubert, but hardly Mendelssohn. After an imaginative opening Allegro con anima, the flautist and pianist engage in a Romanza, an operatic “scena’ which is the most rewarding part of this Sonata. The final Rondo is a delight. This music is not as dry as dust as may be expected from a pedagogue, but is charming, often light-hearted, and downright enjoyable.

Frederic Archer (1838–1901) was a British organist, conductor, and composer who, in 1895, founded the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra. His undated Duo Concertante for flute and pianoforte is a genuine dialogue between equal partners. Although completed around the same time as Prout’s Sonata, this piece feels more modern and timeless.

The most important work on this CD is Edward German’s delightful Suite for flute and piano. It dates from 1892. For those who decry English Victorian music, this is a revelation. To be sure there are hints of Arthur Sullivan and even Elgar. I have noted before that there are one or two intimations of Malcolm Arnold in the opening Valse gracieuse and elsewhere! The heart of the Suite is the Souvenir, which has considerable depth and regret. Was it a love-song? I like the final Gypsy Dance which is pure invention having no relation to Romany melodies and rhythms but appears to be a tongue in cheek caricature. It is fun.

German’s Romance (1892), Intermezzo (1894), and Saltarello (1889) all for flute and pianoforte could be construed as another Suite. The three numbers go well together and make a satisfying whole. The first two movements are a subtle balance of “wistful charm” as well as moments of “greater passion.” The Saltarello, which Howell informs us is really a Tarantella is a barnstorming energetic dance. It makes a good finale to the “Suite” and would make a splendid encore.

The Old English Melody is a “spin-off” from German’s 1901 incidental music to English Nell, a play by Anthony Hope, author of The Prisoner of Zenda, and Edward Rose. German derived a concert overture and three dances from the score. Significant use of the tune Early One Morning appears in the overture, and this is replicated in the present offering, but is more thoughtful.

Edward German’s Savoy Opera A Princess in Kensington (1903) has a complex and wayward plot. It could be summed up as a story of English fairies protesting a royal marriage between Princess Zara and Prince Albion, fearing it will end their reign. They enlist Puck and mischievous spirits to sabotage the union, but love prevails. The opera blends Edwardian fancy with folklore, fantasy, and comic charm. It was never deemed to be as successful as Merrie England or Tom Jones. I was unable to find a recording of the full stage work. The mysterious composer Henri Leclaire (was this a pseudonym?) wrote a Fantasia on Themes from this operetta. He uses a couple of ‘hit’ numbers including, “Seven o’clock in the morning,” and the hornpipe “He was a simple sailor man.” It ends with a “vivacious coda.” This is a pleasing novelty that could easily find a place in the repertoire of flautists; however, I doubt that the opera will be revived any time soon.

The playing by Gilberto Fornito (flute) and Christopher Howell (piano) is sincere and never patronising. The recording is first-rate and the liner notes by Howell are excellent, giving all the detail needed to enjoy this interesting repertoire.

This entertaining CD explores rare English flute and piano music. Prout’s Flute Sonata, though stylistically conservative, reveals charm and operatic flair. Frederic Archer’s Duo Concertante offers a more modern sensibility, while Edward German’s Suite and companion pieces blend Victorian elegance with wit, pathos, and dance-like vitality.

Track Listing:
Ebenezer Prout (1835-1909)
Sonata in A major for flute and pianoforte, op.17 (1882)
Frederic Archer (1838-1901)
Duo Concertante for flute and pianoforte (??)
Edward German (1862-1936)
Suite for flute and pianoforte (1892)
Romance for flute and pianoforte (1892)
Intermezzo for flute and pianoforte (1894)
Saltarello for flute and pianoforte (1889)
Old English Melody (“Early One Morning”) for flute and pianoforte (1901)
Henri Leclaire (Late 19th Century)
Fantasia on Themes from Edward German’s Savoy Opera “A Princess in Kensington” (1903)
Gilberto Fornito (flute), Christopher Howell (piano)
rec. 2023 Studio of Griffa e Figli, Milan, Italy
Da Vinci Classics CO1086

Minor Masterpieces of Organ Music No.3: Louis Vierne’s Berceuse

Most readers of this journal will have played on a harmonium at some stage in their career. If, like me, you have not been overimpressed by one of these instruments, it will hardly be surprising. Regularly found in a remote kirk, they will often suffer from damp, sticking notes and out of tune reeds. They are not ideal for leading a congregation in rousing hymns or giving a powerful recessional at the close of the service.

It will surely come as a surprise to certain listeners that Louis Vierne’s (1870-1930) Berceuse was written for this Cinderella of keyboard instruments. And what is more, so were all the other numbers in the “24 Pièces en style libre,” op.31. This includes the dynamic warhorse Carillon – sur la sonnerie du Carillon de la chapelle du Château de Longpont (Aisne) and the nippy, incisive Divertissement.

To be sure, the instrument that Vierne had in mind was unlike the ubiquitous American reed organ which sucks air over the reeds. The Victor and Auguste Mustel harmonium blew air across the reeds, resulting in something a little more akin to a pipe organ. For the record, the composer is known to have disliked the harmonium. He is said to have described it as a “big nasal accordion” and a “pitiful caricature of the pipe organ.”

Berceuse (sur les paroles classiques) is Vierne’s most played work, if not his most significant. For every organist who can play the Final of the Symphony No.6 or Les cloches de Hinckley from the Vingt-quatre pièces de Fantasie, there are dozens who can make a reasonable fist of this beautiful cradle song.

The “24 Pieces en style libre” were completed in the year preceding the outbreak of the First World War. The two volumes, each with twelve pieces, were published by Durand & Co. in 1914. It was at a time when the composer was exploring other genres. From this period dates his song cycle Stances d'amour et de rêve, op. 29, and the Sonate for cello and piano, op.27. Personally, in the early Autum of 1913, his young son, Andre died whilst the family were holidaying at Juziers, Île-de-France.

Vierne was inspired by an old French tune - “Dodo, l’enfant do” which was based on an ancient carillon rung at the midday Angelus. The text of the Lullaby was ‘Sleep, Child/The Child will sleep soon.’ The Berceuse carries the dedication ‘a ma fille COLETTE’ – his seven-year-old daughter.

Structurally, Berceuse is an interesting development of a basic musical form. The traditional ternary form (A B A) is used in more than a third of the Pieces en style libre. Often in works using this formula, the B section contrasts with the A with the introduction of new melodic, rhythmic, or harmonic material. Not so the Berceuse. Vierne has used a modification of this form: Statement – Development – Restatement, with an added coda. Thus, it becomes a monothematic composition.

One version of the original melody was as below:

Using this as inspiration, Vierne opened his Berceuse thus:

 

Of interest is the “call and response” motif on the second page:

Berceuse is written in A major, however it has a slightly unstable tonality. Many bars are diatonic, nevertheless some of the phrase endings step out of key. Harmonically, Vierne makes ample use of open fifth chords, often in both hands, but sounding as Major or Minor 7^th chords.The ‘restatement’ towards the conclusion is coloured with chromatic notes in the ‘alto’ part. The piece concludes with a long coda (19 bars) ending on an A major chord with an added sixth.

It is doubtful that the registration suggested by the composer would have been as effective on the harmonium. The Great organ calls for a flute and the Swell requires two string stops - a Gambe and the Voix Celeste. These latter give the Berceuse a dreamy, sleepy quality. The pedal requires 16’ and 8’ Bourdons. 

In its simple form and comforting melody, this is a Cradle “Song without Words.” Its harmonic treatment is free, relatively modern, and unique, reflecting the incomparable style of Louis Vierne. This is original and noteworthy music with a distinct and individual beauty.

With thanks to the Glasgow Society of Organists Journal where this essay was first published.