Anthony Philip Heinrich: The Ornithological Combat of Kings or The Condor of the Andes and the Eagle of the Cordilleras

In the years following the American Revolution, the young country sought to define its national identity. Many saw art as vehicle through which Americans could create their distinctiveness. For music, this meant composers working out of the European tradition needed to bring originality, yet stay honest to their tastes and traditions.

Surprisingly, a Bohemian born German became one of the clearest voices of this decidedly “American” art. Anthony Philip Heinrich (left) was born in 1781 and first came to the United States in 1805. He returned again in 1810, and seven years later he ventured to the “isolated wilds of Nature” in Kentucky. It was here that Heinrich decided to become a composer and musician.¹ Referred as the “Beethoven of America” in an 1822 article by John Rowe Parker, Heinrich staged the second performance of a Beethoven symphony in America.²

Dating from around 1835 and reaching its final form in 1857, The Ornithological Combat of Kings or The Condor of the Andes and the Eagle of the Cordilleras is a largely neglected symphony and is still unpublished, though it is one of Heinrich’s less blatant attempts at nationalism.³ This half-hour long symphony is in the typical four movement form and scored for an exceptionally large orchestra

of two flutes and piccolo, two oboes, two clarinets, basset horn, two bassoons and contrabassoon, three trombones, ophicleide, serpent (right), four horns, four trumpets, percussion (triangle, cymbals, snare drum, bass drum, timpani) and strings.⁴

While Heinrich was openly attempting to create a unique art of the Americas, he clearly falls in the vein of German Romanticism by drawing inspiration from the beauty of nature. This work’s nationalism, which is more of a pan-Americanism, come from his depiction of the land's natural wonders. Nature was great inspiration to Heinrich, and he continually emphasized his backwood Kentucky roots, although he never returned to the state in the last 38 years of his life after a 1823 move to Boston.⁵

Before I listened to The Ornithological Combat of Kings, I noticed that work is clearly programatic in describing a battle between a condor and an eagle. The first movement, “The Combat of the Condor in the Air” (Allegro ma moderato), has a dramatic opening in minor that grabbed my attention immediately. Occasionally there is quirkiness in the melody and rhythm that is refreshing to hear. Overall the movement appears well crafted, but structurally ambiguous as it seems through-composed. Perhaps this a programatic intention, but it leaves me lost. The movement ends peacefully. Somehow, though the lack of form, the work makes sense to me, and I enjoy it thus far.

The second movement, “The Repose of the Condor” (Andante sostenuto, quasi adagio), starts similarly to how the first movement ends, creating a smooth transition that possibly allows for programatic continuity and clearly shows Beethoven's influence on the composer. This movement has a dance like quality with dramatic contrasts. I am starting to wonder what exactly Heinrich is trying to depict.

“The Combat of the Condor on Land (Allegro)” is the third movement of the symphony. The music thus far has a similar character of aggressive, angry grandeur that wanders around through varying tempos and intensities. I feel that if I had a detailed description of the exact program that Heinrich is trying to convey (one that Heirich never provides), the music would be much easier to follow.

The fourth movement, “Victory of the Condor” (Finale: vivace brillante), is dance like, but more of the same character, yet it is less aggressive that the previous three movements. Besides similar characters and being in the same key, there lacks any element that links these movements.

I feel The Ornithological Combat of Kings should not be included in the canon of western music. Although it is well crafted, dramatic, and possibly effective in conveying a specific story, the lack of any apparent inner relationship limits the work’s ability to convey a message and provide a stimulating musical experience that entices me to return to this work. As effective as a programatic composition may be at describing a story, the quality of music is still an essential element in determining the work’s canonical eligibility, musical quality that The Ornithological Combat of Kings or The Condor of the Andes and the Eagle of the Cordilleras does not possess.

¹ J. Bunker Clark, introduction to The Sylviad: or, Minstrelsy of Nature in the Wilds of North America, by Anthony Philip Heinrich (Greenleaf, WI: Conners Publications, 1996), vii-viii

² William Gibbons, “The Musical Audubon: Ornithology and Nationalism in the Symphonies of Anthony Philip Heinrich,” Journal of the Society for American Music 3, no. 4 (2009): 467

³ Gibbon: 467-8

⁴ Gibbon: 478

⁵ Clark: viii

Antonio Soler - Sonata No. 88 in D-flat major

The designation as a composer working in Spain, writing numerous keyboard works, and teaching Spanish royalty music in the eighteenth century, all matches Dominco Scarlatti, but he is not alone in this category. The nearly unrecognized Antonio Soler likewise fits this exact description. A Catalan composer who lived from 1729 to 1783, Soler was an ordained priest at the monastery El Escorial, an important site where the Spanish royal families would spend the autumn months.1 When the royal family arrived, their entourage always included Dominco Scarlatti, but it cannot be said with certainty that Soler studied with the elder composer.^2,3 Like Scarlatti, Soler wrote many of his keyboard works for his royal pupil, Prince Gabriel.⁴ Like Scarlatti, Soler wrote primarily binary sonatas. The similarities in both situation and output are undeniable between the two composers, yet one remains in the canon of Western music and the other does not.

Soler wrote 120 keyboard sonatas, including the one examined here, the Sonata No. 88 in D-flat major.^{5 Not surprisingly, Soler’s single-movement sonatas for solo harpsichord are striking similar to Scarlatti's. Soler uses two repeated sections, the first harmonically traveling from the tonic, the second ultimately returning to the tonic without restating any of the opening material to create a rounded binary form. These works cannot be classified as stile galant as the phrases are not succinct and although the accompaniment is sometimes thin, it is not sparse. Throughout this work Soler maintains an active texture made of near constant rhythmic activity. The harmonic trajectory is more aggressive than in Scarlatti’s works. In the Soler’s D-flat major sonata the first section moves from D-flat major to the dominant, A-flat major. The second section suddenly begins in the mediant of F major creating an exciting tension that is resolved back the tonic by the end of the work.}

This sonata was initially exciting to hear as its virtuosity and rhythmic activity were invigorating. Disappointingly, this wonderful energy did not travel anywhere. Essentially static, the energy limited the overall dramatic affect. I hoped to hear more contrast in the magnitude of musical energy, but never did. Some phrases occasionally struck me as awkward and confusing. But overall, the initial visceral response was of excitement. Evident to me was the Spanish style. Several figures were reminiscent of castanets or a strummed guitar. While there were dramatic elements in this work they were not combined to create a drama. I enjoy listening to this sonata for its lightness and momentum, but I struggle to find any depth or value beyond the surface in that the emotional breadth, though cheerful, is thin. The lack of dramatic contrast create a desire to often revisit this work.

Antonio Soler is certainly not considered part of the canon of western music. It must be noted that Soler was only able to 12 works published in his lifetime.⁶ This lack of availability would diminish the chance of his music gaining substantial popularity, but with the ease at which Soler’s works can now be aquired, his exclusion from the canon must be considered on more qualitative terms.

The best way to examine the reasons for his stature is to compare the quality of his works directly to those of Domenico Scarlatti. Essential to a work’s effectiveness in the Classical Era is the contrast that it contains. Soler admirably attempts to display contrast, but the magnitude is often not as great to elicit response from the listener. Scarlatti was more effective at creating contrasting moods by altering the figuration to obtain great variety. Although it was common practice for a composer to vary phrase length for dramatic, when Soler writes a five measure phrase several bars into the second section of the D-flat major sonata to harmonically shift up a whole step,⁷ it feels awkward and stutters the motion created by the dramatic shift to F major. These factors cause the music to be significantly less dramatically relevant to a listener. This lack of relevance and existence of a contemporary who better succeeds at creating such drama is why Soler, although epitomizing the tastes of the era, is not commonly accepted into the canon of Western music.

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¹ Stanley Sadie and John Tyrrel, eds., The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 2nd ed. (London: Macmillan Publishers Limited, 2001), 23:633

2 Powell, Linton E. A History of Spanish Keyboard Music. Bloomington, Indiana University Press, 1980.

³ Frederick Marvin, preface to Ausgewählte Klaviersonaten, by Antonio Soler (Munich: G. Henle Verlag), viiiPaul R. Laird, Towards a History of the Spanish Villancico (Warren, Michigan: Harmonie Park Press, 1997), 125

⁴ Paul R. Laird, Towards a History of the Spanish Villancico (Warren, Michigan: Harmonie Park Press, 1997), 125

5 Antonio Soler, Ausgewählte Klaviersonaten (Munich: G. Henle Verlag), 18-22

⁶ Kitchen, John. “Soler: Sonatas completas, vol. 1.” Early Music 24.4 (November 1996): 717.

⁷ Soler, 20, mm 60-69