of the children of the Chapels Royal, to the end of the eighteenth
century[61],--‘was born in 1734, at Ripon, of which borough his father
was an active and upright magistrate, whose three immediate ancestors
held, successively, the livings of Nidd and Stainley, within the
liberty of that town. He was intended for the church, and received
his education at the free grammar-school of his native place, where,
during five years, he was a contemporary of Beilby Porteus, afterwards
bishop of London. But his father, finding it prudent to indulge his
son’s natural inclination for music, placed him under the instruction
of Dr. Nares, then organist of the cathedral of York. At an early age
he was elected organist, auditor, and _rector chori_ of the collegiate
church of Southwell, in Nottinghamshire, where he married a lady of
good family. He quitted that place in 1764, upon being appointed
gentleman of the Chapel Royal; shortly after which he was installed a
vicar-choral of St. Paul’s Cathedral, and subsequently became one of
the lay-clerks of Westminster Abbey.
‘In 1780 he was promoted, by Bishop Lowth, to the office of master
of the children of his Majesty’s Chapels, on the resignation of his
friend Dr. Nares. In 1784 the University of Cambridge conferred
on him the degree of Doctor in Music; and some time after he was
admitted _ad eundem_ by the University of Oxford. His exercise was a
grand anthem, for a full orchestra, which merited and gained so much
praise, that it was ordered to be performed, with a complete band,
in St. Paul’s Cathedral, on the 29th of July, 1784, the day of the
General Thanksgiving for the peace. This was afterwards published in
score. In the same year he was chosen one of the assistant-directors
of the Commemoration of Handel, in Westminster Abbey, which situation
he filled at all the succeeding performances in that venerable
building, and took a very active part in their management. In 1805
he relinquished the mastership of the children of the Chapel, and
was succeeded by John Stafford Smith, Esq., having been allowed for
many years previous to perform the duties of his other appointments
by deputy. He died in 1808, and his remains were deposited in the
cloisters of Westminster Abbey, near those of his wife and several of
his children.
‘Dr. Ayrton was an excellent musician, of which his compositions for
the church bear indubitable evidence[62]. The performance of these
has been chiefly confined to the Royal Chapel, but the publication of
them, which has long been expected, would usefully augment the musical
resources of our various choirs, and add greatly to the reputation of
their author.’ (_Dictionary of Musicians._)
HARMONICS OF THE VIOLIN.
In the _Westminster Review_ for last January, is an article, under the
above title, which, judging from its clearness and simplicity, we are
inclined to believe must have proceeded from the very able pen of the
critic who recently reviewed in that work the scientific and clever
treatise on the Enharmonic Guitar[63].
The author, wishing to render the doctrine of harmonics comprehensible
to persons of all capacities, has imitated, in a very felicitous
manner, the style of a writer who, whatever opinion may be entertained
of him in other respects, allowedly has the art of making himself
understood by every one, however difficult or intricate the matter on
which he treats; and in a letter written as if from Mr. Cobbett to
his son, has given an intelligibility to the subject which it never
before received, insomuch that we are tempted to exceed the limits of
a quotation, and, for the benefit of such of our readers as do not see
the _Westminster Review_, borrow more largely from the pages of that
very able periodical than is usual, hoping that the liberal spirit of
its proprietors will not accuse us of piracy, and summon us into the
awful presence of the Keeper of the King’s Conscience.
‘The whole theory or principle of finding and producing the
harmonic notes is in reality very simple, and such as might be
communicated to any intelligent child in two or three short
lessons. If the author of the _Political Register_ had been born
and bred a professional musician, (as among the possible freaks
of fortune why should he not?) he would have set the hope of his
family before him, and said,
‘My dear little Son,
‘You are to get your bread by playing on the violin. It will
therefore be exceedingly useful to you to know all that can be
known about the harmonic notes; by which means you may not only get
your bread, but be able to secure its being well buttered also. A
violin-player is _worth_ a great deal more when he knows all about
the harmonic notes; and in fact, since the appearance of Paganini,
the chances are, that a player who does not know it will be worth
nothing at all.
‘Do you know what an _aliquot part_ is? I am sure you do not.
If you have a cake or an apple, and divide it equally among
your companions, whether they be _two_, _three_, _four_, or any
other number, then the thing is said to be divided into aliquot
parts,--“_aliquot_” being a word in the old Latin language meaning
“some certain number or other,” and implying here that the thing is
divided into equal parts of “some certain number or other.” But if
you were to divide it among the same so that their shares should
not be all alike,--or if you were to give each an equal piece, but
there should be a piece left after all which was not equal to one
of the pieces you had given away, but was greater or less,--then
the thing would be divided into parts, but not into aliquot parts.
Now then, my dear little son, you know what is meant by dividing a
string into aliquot parts.
‘Tell me now, how you would begin to show me the different places
in which a string can be divided into _aliquot parts_. You would
first show me the middle point, which divides it into _two_ equal
parts. Then you would divide the string, with your eye or with a
pair of compasses, into _three_ equal parts, and show me the two
points of division between them. Next you would divide it in the
same way into _four_ equal parts, and show me the three points
of division. And so on, for _five_, _six_, _seven_, _eight_,
and as many more as you liked to continue. These, then, you
would say,--both those I have made and those I might make if I
liked--are the points that divide the string into aliquot parts.
And if you pleased, you might mark them by writing under each point
of division the figure which shows how many equal parts the string
is divided into,--as for instance a 2 under the point where the
string is divided into two, a 3 under each of the points which
divide it into three, and so on. And indeed it will be better
that you should do this; for then you cannot help observing, that
sometimes more figures than one will fall on the same place--as for
instance when the string is divided into four, one of the marks
4 will fall on the same place as the division into 2; when it is
divided into six, one of the marks 6 will fall on the same place
that was previously marked 2, and two more on places that were
marked 3; and so on. All of which will be wanted another time.
‘Now if you touch the string gently with the finger at the distance
of any aliquot part from the bridge, (mind I said _from the
bridge_, not at _any_ of the divisions into aliquot parts, but at
the distance of one of them _from the bridge_,) and at the same
time pull the string or draw the bow across between this point and
the bridge, you will see a curious thing. The string will divide
itself into all the aliquot parts of which the point touched by the
finger makes one,--into two, or into three, or into four, as the
case may be,--and every one of them will move by itself, as if it
was a little string held fast at the two ends; the sound produced
being the same that would be made by pressing the string down to
the neck at the point touched, in the common way. If the divisions
are few, as two or three, this may be seen distinctly enough by the
eye: but where this is not the case, it may be shown to be the fact
by laying a little bit of paper on the string while it is sounded;
and if this is laid on any of the points of division into aliquot
parts, whether on the one nearest the bridge or any of its fellows,
it will lie still and not be thrown off, but if it is laid anywhere
else, it will be thrown off directly, which shows that the points
of division are at rest, and the others are not.
‘If you want to know how or why this curious thing takes place,
I will tell you as nearly as I can; but remember I do not pledge
myself that this is the reason, but only that I think it very
likely to be the reason, and this principally because I know no
other way in which it can be brought about. And this way is, that
when one portion of the string is moving in one direction, as for
instance from me towards you, the next portion of the string is
moving at the same time in the contrary direction, or from you
to me; and so with the other portions, whatever their number may
be. In this manner it seems possible that the points of division
should be kept at rest, and in any other manner it seems to be
not possible; and therefore, since the fact is before us that the
points of division remain at rest, I conclude that it is in this
way it takes place. This is what the _feelosofers_ would call a
syllogism. And because this sort of balance can only be kept up by
the portions of the string moving backwards and forwards (which
the same sort of people call _vibrating_) in equal times or with
equal quickness, and this again cannot take place unless the moving
portions of the string are of equal length,--it follows that this
sort of motion in parts or portions of the string can only take
place when those parts or portions are of equal length, which seems
to be the reason why the experiment will only answer when the point
touched is one that divides the string into _aliquot parts_.
‘But this is not all; for there is a more curious thing still.
And that is, that if you touch the string at _any other_ of the
points of division into aliquot parts, (by which I mean any other
than the point of division nearest to the bridge,) the string will
divide itself in the self-same way,--always with the exception (now
mind the exception) of the cases in which the point touched falls
in with a point in some simpler mode of division that has gone
before. For instance, you remember observing, that when the string
was divided into four equal parts, one of the points marked 4
fell on the same place as the division into 2. Touching the string
therefore in this place must make the same sound it did before;
which is a different sound from that which it makes when touched
at the other two points of division into 4. And in like manner in
other cases. But when this agreement with some simpler mode of
division does not interfere, all the points of division on being
touched produce the same sound. For example, if the division be
into five equal parts, inasmuch as none of these will coincide with
any of the simpler modes of division, there must be four points in
the string, any one of which being touched will produce the same
harmonic sound.
‘But if you want to know how and why this still more curious thing
takes place, I can only tell you in a roundabout sort of way as
before. If you divide the string, for example, into five equal
parts, and touch any of the four points of division you choose,
you check and finally prevent the continuance of any motion at
the point touched, though at the same time it would appear that
the touching (which, to make the experiment answer, must be very
light) is not enough to hinder the _shaking_, or, as the learned
people call it, the _vibration_, given at one end, from being
communicated past the point of touch. If, instead of touching the
string lightly, you were to lay hold of it with a pair of pincers,
then the experiment would fail altogether; the reason of which may
be concluded to be, because the motion is presented from being
at all communicated beyond the point laid hold of. In fact the
art,--for there is an art in everything, from scraping the grains
off a cob of Indian corn to sounding a musical string, whatever
the difference in importance and dignity of the two things may
be,--appears to consist in touching the string in such a manner,
and with such a degree of pressure, as shall allow the motion given
by pulling or bowing to be communicated past the finger, and yet
shall check and finally prevent the continuance of all motion, or,
as it was called before, _vibration_, that is not consistent with
the point which is touched remaining at rest. Now if you consider
carefully, you will see that the only way in which motion can go on
and this point remain at rest, is by the string’s dividing itself
into the five equal portions, the movements of which shall balance
each other as before described. It does not indeed follow, that
because the motion could go on no other way, it must necessarily go
on in this; but we have the evidence of the fact that it _does_ go
on in this; and the knowledge of the reasons why it could not go on
in any other is at all events very useful to make us remember what
the effect is that is produced, and how.
‘The next thing is to be able to tell what all the sounds thus
produced are. Now you remember that when you were a very little
boy, I showed you, that if you stop a string by pressing it
down hard in the middle you produce its _Octave_; where the two
sounds (of the original string and its half) are such sounds as
are produced by a man and a child when they sing the same tune
together, but in very different pitches of voice;--that if, instead
of shortening the string in this manner by the half, you shorten it
by a third part, you produce the sound which musicians have called
the _Fifth_; if you shorten it by a fourth part, you produce the
_Fourth_; if by the fifth part, the _Major Third_; if by the sixth
part, the _Minor Third_; with a great deal more which it is not
necessary to mention now;--and I told you, too, that the intervals
from one of these sounds to another were not the same, or such
as to allow of beginning on any you please and making the others
serve in the places they happen to fall in, which is attempted to
be done by what is called _Temperament_, a thing that you as a
violin player should hold in as much scorn, as an invitation to
cut off your two legs for the sake of trying how pleasant it is
to hop on wooden ones. If then you want to know what sound any of
the harmonics really is, you have only to do this;--double the
distance from the bridge to the nearest of the points of division
into aliquot parts, over and over, till you get to some length that
when pressed down in the common way makes a note which you know, as
the _Octave_, the _Fifth_, &c.; and then the harmonic will be this
note, only raised by as many octaves as there have been doublings.
For example, if you touch the thickest or G string of the violin so
as to bring out the harmonic at one-fifth of its length from the
bridge, and want to know what note this is,--doubling this length
once makes two-fifths of the whole string, and doubling it again
makes four-fifths, and four-fifths pressed down in the common way
make the _Major Third_ or B; therefore the harmonic produced is
B two octaves higher than the B on the thickest string, or the
same sound as the first B on the thinnest or E string. And in like
manner in other cases.
‘The examination of all the different possible harmonic notes might
evidently be carried a long way; and it would be very useful to do
it if you were intended for a trumpeter, for all the notes on the
trumpet or French horn are harmonic notes. But for playing on the
violin, as much as is given above appears to be sufficient. It will
enable you to trace all the principal harmonic sounds, and in fact
all that on the violin are of any practical use; for though there
is no absolute end of the number of harmonic notes, inasmuch as you
may divide the string into a hundred parts if you please, and then
into a hundred-and-one,--yet after the division into five or into
six, the sounds on the violin become so feeble as to be of no use
except as matters of experiment and curiosity. And it will have
this further good effect, that it will make you cease to marvel and
to wonder at finding the harmonic sounds on the same string grow
sometimes deeper and sometimes shriller, as you move your finger
from the bridge towards the head,--as if there was some mystery in
it that anybody could not learn in half an hour when they set about
it properly.
‘Suppose now you could stop some tune (as for instance “God save
the King”) on one string of the violin, as for example the fourth,
with your first or second finger, and at the same time always
touch the stopped string gently with the little finger of the same
hand at one quarter of the way to the bridge so as to bring out
the harmonic note;--is it not plain that you would play the tune,
only in the Double Octave, or two octaves higher than if played by
the simple stopping on the fourth string? There is no doubt that
this is very hard, especially for a little boy; it is almost as
bad as playing on two violins at once. But still the thing can be
done. And if, instead of touching with the little finger at the
_quarter_ of the way to the bridge, you should touch at the third,
the fifth, or the sixth of the way, you would bring out notes that
were not Double Octaves to the sound that would be made by simply
pressing down the first finger, but other sounds, which you have it
in your power to calculate; all of which might by possibility be
very useful, but the other was mentioned as being the simplest. If
you asked me what is the use of playing anything in Double Octaves
in this manner, or in any other of the harmonic notes,--I should
answer, First, because these harmonic notes have a very fine and
pure sound,--they do not squall like the sounds made by pressing
the strings to the finger-board very near the bridge;--Secondly,
because it is much easier to make the sounds in tune in this
manner, than by trying to make them by stopping near the
bridge,--for where the string is so short, the smallest error in
the stopping becomes sensible in proportion;--Thirdly, because (as
it is not necessary to be always playing in harmonics) they may be
mixed up with the common notes of the violin, and save an immensity
of trouble in jumping from one end of the instrument to the other
to find the high notes. Look, for instance, at an old-fashioned
fiddler playing on the second string, and wanting (suppose) A _in
alto_; and see what a leap he will make to find it on the first
string, and what a horrible screech he will bring out after all,
when he might produce the note in the most perfect tune and tone
by only touching the second open string that he is on already,
harmonically at a fourth of the way from the head to the bridge, or
at the same place that he would stop D on the second string.’
MELODY AND HARMONY[64].
The object and end of all music is the expression and excitement of
passion, of which its notes are the signs. The practice of music
doubtless shows best how powerful are these signs over the production
of corresponding passions; but its theory also, in the hands of some
writers, has even indicated the precise and simple expressions which
respectively belong to some of the passions.
Now we know that two passions cannot coexist in the mind, except at
the expense of their respective continuity, depth, and intensity. It
follows, of course, that their corresponding signs cannot coexist in
the ear without breaking and enfeebling their expression.
But melody consists of a succession of simple sounds, and harmony of
coexistant and related or concordant sounds. It is obvious, therefore,
that melody is alone adapted to the expression of passion--that is, to
musical expression.
A moment’s reflection, indeed, will show that, in language, it would
not be more absurd to endeavour to express or excite passion by means
of the related terms, emotion, sentiment, &c., or to express and excite
any one passion, as that of love, by means of the related terms,
friendship, affection, &c., than it would, in music, be to endeavour to
excite any passion, in all its purity, simplicity, continuity, depth,
and intensity, by means of impure, compound, broken, and feeble notes.
Which, accordingly, are the nations that have excelled in melody?--The
Italians, the Scots, the Irish, in whom the passions are intense and
powerful; while the Sclavonic and Gothic tribes, in whom the passions
are feeble, have practised that play upon related notes which indicates
the weakness or absence of passion, and which constitutes harmony.
There can, I think, be no more striking illustration than this at once
of the intimate nature and of the relative value of melody and harmony.
To the superior value of melody, however, similar homage is paid,
whether reluctantly or not, in the highest productions of scientific
music. Whenever, in the opera, sentiment, affection, or passion has
to be expressed, the simple melody of the airs is indispensable. If
anything were wanting to corroborate the preceding train of reasoning,
this surely is sufficient.
Let us now, however, from principles which regard the intimate nature
of melody and harmony, as well as their precise relation to the great
end of all music, descend to the mere practical observance of the
relative effects of melody and harmony.
Here one thing will, at the first, strike those who are in the habit
of paying any attention to the operation of their own minds, and of
endeavouring to analyse it. It is this, that, while there is no end
to the variety which the simplest melodies produce, there is but one
sentiment excited by harmony.
However varied the melody may be, whatever the succession of emotion
and passion which it calls up, it will be found that, with each of
these, and always at its expense, the harmony, _quoad_ harmony,
associates another, and that always one and the same, feeling. This,
if observed, will be found to be a feeling of surprise, and certainly
of pleasure, at the display of knowledge in the instant association of
related notes; surprise and pleasure at the art and skill, not at the
feeling and taste, of the composer[65].
The compositions of Handel, Bach, and others, are admirable in their
kinds and perfectly descriptive; but they touch not the most exquisite
feelings; they sink not into the heart; they rouse not the passions.
They excite, as already said, surprise and pleasure at the art and
skill, not at the feeling and taste, of the composer. Let them be
compared in this respect with Sarti, Cimarosa, &c., and all doubt on
this point will cease.
It is evident, then, that the admiration, however delightful, produced
by the instant and unexpected association of related notes, must,
precisely in proportion to its degree, weaken and diminish the
effect of the melody--must, in fact, destroy its purity, simplicity,
continuity, depth, and intensity.
It is, perhaps, scarcely a less fatal objection to the indiscriminate
practice of harmony, that even the restricted pleasure which it conveys
is, from want of education in this peculiar art, incapable of being at
all enjoyed by the vast majority of hearers.
The best practical illustration, indeed, of the relative value of
melody and harmony arises from observing their effects on the mind
and the expression of the features. The English people, being chiefly
of Gothic origin, have a fair capability of apprehending coexisting
related sounds, and their conduct while hearing them will furnish this
illustration.
Let any one, then, observe the effect of these sounds in the finest
harmonies produced at our Opera-house. An affected look of knowingness,
an insincere grin, passes from one face to another, and occasionally,
when some one who really understands the matter gives a bold and
loud rap with his stick,--believing that there must now certainly be
something very fine, they very innocently break into a long paroxysm of
applause, and they repeat this as often as the courageous fellow with
the stick chooses to give them the signal, each secretly thinking how
devilish stupid he must be not really to enjoy what everybody else is
so highly delighted with.
See, however, the same faces when a simple melody breaks out from the
chaos of the harmony: waiting for no prompter, pleasure instantly beams
on every face, and truth and nature have a triumph in that deep and
universal sympathy which art and affectation are utterly incapable of
achieving.
The practice of harmony has, indeed, been borrowed by us from the boors
of Russia, Bohemia, and Swabia, whose broad and flat configuration
of head seems to be as much connected with this _practice_ as their
coldness and apathy are utterly opposed to musical _feeling_, which has
no existence independent of passion.
So natural and universal is melody, that even many quadrupeds are
powerfully affected by it, while not one seems to be influenced by
harmony.
Such then is the kind of music which, originally borrowed from these
boors, the influence of a few amateurs has rendered fashionable
among the half-civilized people of Europe,--for we must call those
half-civilized who have no perception of the fundamental necessity and
transcendent beauty of simplicity in all the fine arts, those sole
tests of the highest civilization.
In Greece, where alone those arts reached the highest perfection,
the purest simplicity characterized every one of their productions;
and there, accordingly, harmony--as in general a complex and idle
decoration, in no way promoting expression, the end of music, but,
on the contrary, defeating its purpose, was, we are told, absolutely
proscribed.
Even if this fact had not been recorded, the slightest knowledge of the
genius of Grecian art would prove that it must have been so; and we
might as safely have predicted that they no more loaded their melodies
with Gothic or Sclavonic harmonies than their temples with Gothic
traceries[66].
The analogy is perfectly strict; for these gingerbread traceries are
not more unproductive of great or good effect than harmonies are; nor
are the barn-like temples which they cover more ugly in their general
form than the meagre airs which harmonies are intended to decorate.
But this is not all. Not only are the airs which harmonies are intended
to decorate generally meagre and worthless, it would appear that no
other airs than those are fit for conjunction with harmonies. It is
certainly true that, whenever the apathetic Germans have attempted to
harmonize the impassioned airs and exquisite melodies of Scotland and
Ireland, they have ruined them, and disgusted every person of pure and
natural taste.
The purpose, then, to which harmony is applicable is not to the
expression of pure, simple, continuous, deep, and intense passion--the
very highest purpose of musical expression,--but to the expression
either of the slightly modified and less definite feelings, or of the
more variable, and even jarring sentiments of several persons, purposes
far inferior to the former.
It is evident that, where several persons express musically somewhat
similar sentiments on the same subject, they may naturally sing
in harmony; and where these sentiments occur at intervals of time
slightly extended, they may even be supposed to chant in that regulated
succession which constitutes fugue. Hence harmony is peculiarly suited
to many voices, where deep pathos and passion are impossible; and it is
an abuse to apply it to the higher species of music.
It is evident, too, that, in descriptive or epic music, harmony
may form the background of the picture--the accompaniment of the
narration,--in the front of which some kind of melody appears; and
of this the most admirable examples are to be found in the works of
Beethoven, the most profound and philosophical of composers. But
whoever mistakes this for the highest species of music is not in a
condition to understand the present paper.
It is in fact, the absence of pathos and passion among the Gothic
races of modern Europe, that has led to the substitution of harmony
for melody. At the same time, their excellence in mechanical invention
has enabled them greatly to improve instruments, which, however suited
to the former, are incapable of the feeling and the meaning, the
expression and the delicacy, which essentially belong to the latter.
And again, the deficiency of instruments in these most important
qualities has led to those strong basses and accompaniments which fill
up the vacuity. Music, consequently, has sometimes degenerated into a
series of tricks which do not rank above rope-dancing or the ballet.
One word may now properly be added on instrumental accompaniments.
They are the natural resource of performers who are destitute either
of feeling or of voice. They may be comparatively beautiful when
associated with these, but they are absolutely offensive when they
interfere with the expression of deep feeling by a beautiful voice.
The best instrumental accompaniment is consequently that which least
interferes with the voice--not the continuous sounds of wind or bowed
instruments (for their music is rather the poor unfeeling substitute
for, than the accompaniment of, fine vocal music), but the light touch
of the string of the harp, the guitar, or the lyre, which, while it
verifies the accuracy, least interferes with the feeling of vocal
expression.
Hence the great masters of art, the Greeks, employed so simple an
instrument as the guitar (their κιθαρα being obviously its original),
or the lyre, which appears to have been simpler and better still.
I rejoice, therefore, to see the former becoming as fashionable in
England as it has long been on the Continent.
~Donald Walker.~
A GERMAN CRITIQUE.
(From the _Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung_.)
[A specimen of criticism from the most esteemed and widely-circulated
musical journal of Germany, will not be uninteresting to our readers.
The beauty of M. Mendelssohn’s overture has excited in M. Fink’s mind
a lively recollection of Shakspeare’s most fanciful drama, and almost
turned the brain of the critic. He has wrought himself into a belief
that music is equal to language in the power of describing. His reverie
is amusing; but the intimate acquaintance he manifests with the works
of our great dramatic poet, is a circumstance more gratifying to us
than all the sallies of his imagination.]
* * * * *
Overture to Shakspeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream, composed by Felix
Mendelssohn Bartholdy, arranged as a Duet for the Piano-Forte, by
the composer. (Property of the publishers.) Leipzig. Published by
Breitkopf and Härtel. Pr. 1 Thaler.
The same Composition arranged for the Piano-Forte (for one
performer) by F. Mockwitz.
Reviewed by G. W. Fink, (the Editor.)
It was announced last year in one of the numbers of this publication
that the orchestral parts of this excellent work had appeared at the
above publisher’s; and we then expressed our regret that they should
have been published without the score, for want of which the overture
could not be reviewed. Up to the present time we have not relaxed in
our endeavours to meet with the score, but we have been unsuccessful.
This would have been a matter of still deeper regret to us if we had
not had the good fortune to hear the overture, the arrangements of
which are lying before us, played by our orchestra, which, at the first
performance, got through the difficult composition in such a delightful
manner, that a tolerably distinct impression of it remained upon our
mind, which, upon looking over and playing the two clever arrangements,
is powerfully called back to our memory. From the impression produced
by the instrumental performance, and from these two published
arrangements, we cannot but give the palm to this production of the
persevering young composer, as evincing a greater degree of ability and
genius than any other of his works with which we are acquainted.
Tones of simple melody seem to float, like soft and delicate whispers,
through the shadows of night. It seems as though something mystic were
approaching, from the distance shrouded in darkness, which suddenly
settles like a gleam of moonshine on the desired spot. Now gentle and
vigorous sounds alternate, as though a power of both those characters,
veiled in the misty clouds, were at hand; and in a chord of silvery
softness, Titania beckons her fairy followers, who, forthwith forming
in couples, wind through the silent wood in fantastic twirling dances.
Here, detaching themselves from their companions, a diminutive
elfin couple creep into a polished acorn-cup, and sing in delicate
fairy strains to the elegant movements of the rest. Pea-blossom,
Mustard-seed, Moth, and Cobweb, are there among the busy revellers
in the moonshine; and there is such a twirling and flirting, and
rustling and glitter, that one would fain be present at the nuptial
revels of the bright-helmed Theseus, were it even in the capacity of a
tinker. Anon somebody trips in with a prying look, softly and slyly,
as though he were plotting mischief; and this personage is no other
than Friend Oberon, attended by his roguish Puck, projecting a little
spell to punish his refractory consort. And lo! on a sudden, matters
become coarsely real and corporeal. The ‘rude mechanicals’ are about
to rehearse their ‘most lamentable comedy’ in the wood; and the lovers
are eloping, because the cruel father will not let his daughter marry
him she loves. The night is as busy and full of life as though it were
open day, and a legato cantabile, keeping up the character of the
scene, expresses the impassioned prayer of the maiden, exhausted by
her flight, imploring that she may be allowed to slumber undisturbed
on the mossy rock. In the foreground beneath the trees the mechanics
are rehearsing their drama, each according to his part; Oberon surveys
unseen the strange performance, and gives his commands to the sly
Puck. The scene is now one of wonderful bustle and confusion; mortals
rehearse and elves dance, Oberon smiles, and Puck, ever frolicsome and
mischievous, returning, dives through the dewy atmosphere and presents
to his radiant master the magic floweret, Love in idleness, whose
penetrating juice changes the wise to stupid and the stupid into wise.
This is, between ourselves, the very flower which, among other things,
is the cause that the most shallow effusions thus metamorphosed are
the most assiduously read and strummed. Dip them in the water, their
element, and Puck’s observation is perfectly legible upon their hairy
foreheads--
‘Churl, upon thy eyes I throw
All the power this charm doth owe.’
It is only a pity that the wag should always mistake his man, and,
instead of the right, invariably hit upon the wrong! But for the rest,
this is after all of little consequence; for in a genuine Midsummer
Night’s Dream it is proper that all things should be at cross purposes,
and yet so clearly defined, that in the confusion we may distinguish
the forms of the beings composing it. And here the great charm is
that this is just the case in this instance. Oh! what a delightful
thing is a merry dream! Suddenly the chord of the diminished seventh,
that pliant and accommodating harmony, accompanied by rumbling bases,
resounds through the busy scene, and one may fancy Quince exclaiming,
‘Bless thee, Bottom, bless thee, thou art translated!’ No matter! it
is rather a piece of good fortune for Bottom. Although the scared
artisans run off at the sight of his monstrous head, the slumbering
Titania, being also under the spell of the magic floweret, on awaking
beholds the transformed wight; and oh! how beautiful and intellectual
does she find the agreeable beast! how lovingly does she caress him!
The sprightly elves are ordered to dance to her long-eared darling, and
Pea-blossom to scratch his lovely little head. Theseus now approaches
with his queen of the Amazons and train of huntsmen to the sound of the
horns and the barking of dogs. Things now begin to assume a clearer
aspect; Bottom too is disenchanted, and it seems as if the clowns were
playing Pyramus and Thisbe at the wedding. Bottom roars so that the
duke says, ‘Let him roar again!’ Lysander has returned to his love; and
matters end so much to our satisfaction that one cannot help exclaiming
with Bottom, ‘I have had a most rare vision--I have had a dream past
the wit of man to say what dream it was. Man is but an ass, if he
go about to expound this dream.’ In short, the beauty of the thing
is, that in its true sense, the beginning is the end and the end the
beginning.
Now let the reader, who in this account may here and there have
observed something of a flowery description, first of all read the
Midsummer Night’s Dream; then let him take the two-handed arrangement,
or the duet, as he pleases, (they are both beautiful and good; but the
arrangement for four hands is the better--a circumstance, however,
which ought by no means to imply a defect as regards the two-handed
arrangement, for the simple reason that two is not four,) and he will
be delighted with it and feel the import of the lines,
Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so,
And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.
REVIEW OF NEW MUSIC.
~Six original English Glees~, _for three and four voices, including
the Glee which gained the Prize given by the_ Manchester Glee-Club,
1832, _and those performed at the_ Concentores Society, _composed
by_ ~H. R. Bishop~. _The Poetry by_ Mrs. ~Hemans~, ~Joanna
Baillie~, ~J. Wilson~, Esq., _and_ Dr. ~Johnson~. (Goulding and
D’Almaine.)
The Glee is our national music, is indigenous to these isles, and a
beautiful species of composition however viewed; we should therefore
be sorry to see it fall into anything like neglect, a danger which
some few years ago seemed to be threatened, though now we trust is
past, judging from the encouragement it has lately received from many
associated bodies, and from its re-introduction to domestic parties,
where it appears to be regaining that favour which its own merits,
and the facility with which it may now be performed, ought always to
command.
Mr. Bishop, though he pursued his professional studies under an
Italian master, and has devoted his life chiefly to the theatre, has
cultivated what in an English musician may almost be called a natural
talent for glee-writing, to which, it is fair to a laudable institution
to state, he has probably been partly induced by his connexion with
the _Concentores Society_, a small club, whose sole object is the
conservation of this kind of composition, and for the service of which
three out of the present collection were produced.
The first glee in this volume, ‘Where shall we make her grave?’ in
~E~♭, for four equal voices, gained the _premium_--(a _Prize_ implies a
medal, or cup; a far more gentlemanlike reward, by-the bye,)--given by
a club at Manchester, and is a very impressive composition, the words
set with judgment and feeling, and full of good, rich harmony. Being
long, a more frequent and decided change of key would have increased
the effect of this; though as it is in four different movements, the
sameness which otherwise would have been felt, is much concealed. The
melody at the words ‘where shower and singing-bird,’ is very charming;
and the whole of pages 4 and 5, where the author modulates first into
~A~♭, then into ~D~♭, is set in a masterly, affecting manner.
The second, ‘Up! quit thy bower!’ a cheerful glee in ~F~, for two
sopranos, tenor, and base, is lively and pleasing: the frequent use
here of the diminished 7th is rather a novelty in a glee, and tends to
a good purpose. The whole of this is full of agreeable melody, which is
particularly striking at page 15, where the annexed passage occurs,--a
successful departure from the usual habits of glee-writers:--
[Illustration: _Moderately Quick_
The lulling stream that sooth’d thy dream is dancing, &c.
The lulling stream that sooth’d thy dream is dancing, &c.
]
The third, ‘No more the morn with tepid rays,’ in ~D~, for four equal
voices,--the words, Dr. Johnson’s Ode to Winter,--is in several
movements, but the key is not so various, and the whole, though set
with a due regard to the Poet’s sentiments, is rather monotonous and
heavy. The following passage contains some clashing notes, though we
allow that many of them are passing notes.--
[Illustration:
congeal’d impetuous show’rs descend, congeal’d impetuous show’rs
congeal’d impetuous show’rs descend.
]
The composer’s design is obvious, but nothing in music can justify what
is disagreeable to a cultivated ear.
The fourth, ‘Oh! Sky-lark!’ in ~F~, also for four equal voices, is
throughout graceful, especially in melody; the repetition of certain
pleasing phrases conduces here very much to effect.
The fifth, ‘In tears, the heart oppressed with grief,’ in ~E~, for
soprano, tenor, and base, a single movement, is elegant and gentle,
and the words are most judiciously set. Some chromatic notes in this
will put glee-singers on the alert: they are, generally speaking,
averse from trouble, but it is time to rouse them, and break through
their ancient habits.
The sixth and last, ‘Come forth, sweet spirit!’ in ~F~, for four
equal voices, in two movements, is a good composition, and quite
irreproachable, yet not very captivating. It is best calculated to
please those critics who judge music by the eye rather than the
ear,--who deal largely in the phrases ‘fine writing,’ ‘parts well put
together,’ &c., and seldom look beyond the mechanism of a composition.
We may pronounce this to be a successful work: the glees are all of
the orthodox kind, deficient in nothing that good taste requires, or
that the nature of the composition, by a prescriptive right, demands.
No very hazardous attempts are made at novelty, but we meet with
nothing common, and no pedantic show of mistaken learning. Mr. Bishop
has written to please, not without a sufficient regard for his own
reputation, and has not failed in his endeavour.
* * * * *
1. ~Songs of the Bower~, _composed by_ ~C. W. Manners~. (Goulding
and D’Almaine.)
2. The Spring Wreath, ~Twelve Songs~, _composed by Messrs._ ~John
Thomson~, ~R. Webster~, ~J. P. Clarke~, ~T. Macfarlane~, _and_ ~W.
Hindmarsh~: _the words by_ ~T. Atkinson~, _author of_ The Cameleon.
8vo. (Goulding and D’Almaine.)
Without being at all informed on the subject, and judging only from
the dedication of the _Songs of the Bower_, we are inclined to believe
that they are the production of an amateur, and that the words are by
the author of the music. If we are in error as to the latter point, the
composer is bound to excuse us, for he should have named the writer
of them, if not from his own pen. They are six in number, show a vast
deal of taste, a desire to avoid commonplaces, (though not always
successful in this respect,) and a most correct manner of setting the
poetry, both as regards expression and accentuation. Indeed, it is the
latter circumstance which leads us to think that the composer and poet
are one and the same person, for mere musicians, more often than not,
are influenced by the meaning of particular words rather than by the
context, and almost as frequently commit mistakes in quantity and in
emphasis.
The first of these, ‘Once more to the bower,’ in ~E~, is a slow,
expressive air, well accompanied, but not very original, particularly
in its cadences. The second, _The Regret_, in ~F~, if sung slowly,
rather ad libitum, and with feeling, will always make an impression.
The accompaniment to this is very appropriate. The third, ‘When youth
first leads,’ in ~D~, is more pleasing than new. Of the fourth, ‘Now is
the hour,’ in ~E~ flat, precisely the same may be said, though it is
not as a whole equal to the former. The fifth, ‘Come welcome with me,
lovely May,’ in ~G~, should have been written in triple time; it has a
strong polacca tendency, and halts exceedingly in its present measure.
The praise we have bestowed on the composer’s accentuation must be
abated so far as this song is concerned: giving a long note to ‘with,’
and in the strong part of the bar too, cannot escape censure. The
sixth, ‘The last red rose,’ in ~E~ flat, is another expressive air, and
the accompaniment shows much good taste in harmony; but the cadences
here, as once or twice before, are, contrary to the moral rule, not the
more valuable for being old acquaintances.
No. 2 is a very pretty volume of lithographed songs, thin enough to
carry in the pocket, and with neat cover and gilt leaves, producible in
any lady’s drawing-room; and all this at a less price than two songs
of the ordinary kind! We confess that the smallness of the characters
calls on the eye for unusual exertion; and the singer and accompanyist,
if in the dual number, must sit in the closest possible contact if they
mean to see a single note or word.
Of these songs, the best are, _The Promise_, in the Scottish style,
by J. P. Clarke; _The Night Flower_, by T. Macfarlane; ‘The Midnight
Dream,’ by John Thomson, Esq., a very superior composition; and _The
Proud Lover_, by R. Webster. The poetry of the songs is unaffected, and
some of it remarkable for tenderness, if not for any higher quality;
and, at all events, the publication is certainly worth the moderate,
the hardly remunerating price set on it.
* * * * *
PIANO-FORTE.
1. _Souvenir du_ Pré aux Clercs, ~Fantasia~, _composé par_ ~F.
Kalkbrenner~, Op. 119. (Goulding and Co.)
2. _Souvenir de_ ~Herold~, _Fantasia, par_ ~C. Chaulieu~. Op. 151.
(Goulding and Co.)
Both of these are remembrances of M. Herold, the lately-deceased French
composer, and made up, we believe, chiefly of airs from his operas.
The first, though requiring considerable powers of execution, is good
music; difficulty is not the author’s _object_. Some parts are very
beautiful, others ingenious; but we most condemn the hateful run of
semitones in thirds, foolishly introduced, at page 8, in deference to a
vicious fashion.
* * * * *
M. Chaulieu has produced some clever and many pleasing things for
the piano-forte, which have always been noticed by us in terms of
due approbation. Though not an original or vigorous composer, he has
generally been a rational one. But all at once his judgment seems to
have abandoned him,--a fit of pedantic foppery has seized him! Will it
be credited that a composer in the nineteenth century, a musician not
under restraint, not actually in a strait waistcoat, can have attempted
to retrograde a century and a half, by introducing, in a piece written
for the piano-forte only, the contra-tenor clef? He has not only
employed this, most freely, in the present fantasia, but written it
with _8va. alta_ over the notes, as if the same meaning could not have
been expressed infinitely better by the usual clef, even admitting that
the ~C~ clef were still in use! If such folly as this is countenanced,
we shall soon go back to six-line staves, to the treble clef on the
first line, and the mean on the fifth,--to musical darkness and
barbarism. Surely the London publisher, Mr. D’Almaine, could not have
been aware of this mad freak, or exquisite piece of musical coxcombry,
or his common sense would have prompted him immediately to restore
sanity to the notation of this work, which, in its present state,
cannot have the least chance of sale.
* * * * *
1. ~Grosses Concert-Stuck~, (_Pièce de Concert_,) _Op. 47, composé
par_ ~Mayseder~, _arrangé pour le Piano-forte par_ ~Charles
Czerny~. (Wessel and Co.)
2. ~Rondeau Mignon, No. 7~, _sur l’air_ ‘Non più andrai’ _de_
~Mozart~, _composé pour le Piano-forte par_ ~Fred. Kulau~. (Wessel
and Co.)
The subject of No. 1 has frequently, in one shape or other, come under
our notice; it has all the frothy gaiety of the author, and not a trait
that gives it the slightest chance of being remembered beyond the
fleeing hour. M. Czerny, as might have been expected, has not palliated
any of its defects, but rather aggravated them, by a succession of
restless, unrelated, senseless passages.
* * * * *
M. Kulau, a judicious musician, but, alas! no more, has made a very
charming rondo out of Mozart’s popular air from _Figaro_. Like a
reasonable man, he has studied the convenience of the player, and also
confined himself within moderate bounds;--like a man of taste, he has
been regulated by the style of the subject;--and like a musician who
really understands his art, he has added nothing but what every sound
harmonist will approve and admire.
* * * * *
1. ~Minuetto~ _and_ ~Trio~, ~Andante Sentimentale~, _and_ ~Allegro
Scherzando~, _composed by_ ~Edward J. Loder~. Op. 19. (Goulding and
D’Almaine.)
2. ~Horn’s~ ‘Happy Valley,’ _and_ ‘Dark-eyed Brunette,’ _arranged,
with an_ Introduction, _by_ ~T. A. Rawlings~. (Monro and May.)
3. ‘Non più mesta,’ _the Finale to_ La Cenerentola, arranged, with
Variation, _by_ ~T. A. Rawlings~. (Monro and May.)
No. 1 evinces talent of no common kind: he who composed these pieces
could, we should suppose, put parts to them, and by the addition of
a single movement exalt them into a symphony, of which they seem to
have been intended as portions. The three great masters are the models
on which these compositions are formed, of whom Beethoven appears to
be the object of the author’s highest admiration. The Minuet, in ~E~
flat, and Trio, in ~A~ flat, are spirited, and less studied in manner
than the Andante, in ~B~ flat, which is impressive and _recherché_.
The Allegretto, in ~A~ flat, is bold and energetic; the modulations
here are many and fearless, and the author has ventured on discords for
which he has no precedent that immediately occurs to us, thus at least
proving a courage and independence which promise much as the result of
his future exertions. Were our advice likely to influence Mr. E. Loder,
we would recommend him to pursue his present course, only guarding him
against the possibility of being allured from melody by the temptations
of harmony.
* * * * *
The composer of a song has no chance now of success unless he fee some
public performer to sing it; and the composer of a piano-forte piece
must not expect that his work will attract any notice unless built on
some popular air. Mr. Rawlings has long known the truth of this, and
still acts on his experience. No. 2 is formed on two airs said to be
popular, and No. 3 on one that unquestionably is, namely, ‘Non più
mesta; of all of which he has made good use, and produced two very
agreeable and recommendable publications.
* * * * *
1. ~Contre-Danses Brillantes~, _et_ ~Valse~, _composés par_ ~J. T.
Surenne~. (Robertson, _Edinburgh_.)
2. ~Quadrille~ _de_ ~Contre-Danses~, _sur des motifs de l’opéra de_
~Donizetti~, Anna Bolena, _arrangée par_ ~Henry Lemoine~. (Wessel
and Co.)
No. 1 are animated, animating dances, not exhibiting any very new
thoughts, but well put together.
No. 2 are subjects from an opera that cannot boast a single original
idea, therefore the compiler of this quadrille must not be censured for
want of novelty; but he has well arranged the airs he has chosen, and
adapted them in a convenient manner for the performer.
* * * * *
DUETS, PIANO-FORTE.
1. ~Grosses Concert-Stuck~, (_Pièce de Concert_,) Op. 47, _composé
par_ ~Mayseder~, _arrangé par_ ~Charles Czerny~. (Wessel and Co.)
2. ~Duet~ _on a_ ~Danish Melody~, _composed for two performers, by_
~Fred. Kulau~. (Wessel and Co.)
No. 1 is the work noticed above, as arranged for a single performer. We
like it better in its present form, for the parts are more dispersed,
and the melody comes out more distinctly. The upper part of this is
very difficult, but the lower is easy, the duet therefore will very
well suit an elder and younger sister, or two players whose musical
advancement is unequal.
* * * * *
No. 2 is Kulau’s _Recollections of Odensee_, in two quick, pleasing,
and very practicable movements. We will not answer for the airs being,
_bonâ fide_, of Danish origin, but whatever their birth-place, they are
lively, pretty, and the superior master often peeps out while he means
to be only simple and familiar.
* * * * *
1. ~Quadrille~ _sur des motifs de_ ~Herold~, _de l’opéra_ Zampa,
_arrangée par_ ~Henry Lemoine~. No. 1. (Wessel and Co.)
2. No. 2, Ditto. ditto. ditto.
Some of the best subjects from an opera which has been too much lauded
on the continent, are here arranged in an easy but effective manner.
* * * * *
ORGAN.
~Select Organ Pieces~, _from Masses, Motets, and other sacred works
of_ ~Mozart~, ~Haydn~, ~Beethoven~, ~Cherubini~, ~Palestrina~,
_and other classical composers of the German and Italian schools,
arranged by_ ~Vincent Novello~. _Nos. 31 to 36._ (A. Novello.)
What the preceding numbers of this work contain, we have had no means
of judging, having only received those now under notice, and must
confine ourselves to them. By means of very close engraving, twenty-two
pieces are included in these numbers, principally from Haydn’s and
Mozart’s sacred compositions, but some few are by Novello, Portogallo,
and Bonno. We are not among those who think that the Masses, &c. of
Haydn and Mozart are, taken altogether, equal to their secular works;
many of them, we are persuaded, would never have been published by
the consent of the composers, but parts of them make very good organ
pieces. These Mr. Novello has culled, and, with his well-known ability,
converted them to a very useful purpose. He certainly calculates his
adaptations for superior organists, and is not sparing of notes.
Sometimes there will be found too many, by second-rate performers;
and we take the liberty to mention to Mr. N. that in the country, nay
even in the metropolis, are several respectable organists, very well
qualified to do the duty of parish churches, who think his arrangements
too much crowded for ordinary players, and too full of harmony for
country congregations.
VOCAL.
‘Tantum ergo,’ a ~Soprano Solo~, _with chorus, and violin, or
flute, obligato, composed by_ ~C. Guynemer~. (J. A. Novello.)
This is more to be praised for smoothness of melody, and elegance
in style, than for invention; we meet with nothing in it that can
be called new, but, at the same time, nothing but what is rather
agreeable. The air is in two movements, the first slow in three-four
time, the last quicker, in common time. We prefer the former. The
chorus, with a principal soprano added, to which a few florid
passages are given, is simple, therefore--according to our notion of
choral church music--appropriate; but it is also graceful. The flute
accompaniment (by Mr. Nicholson) is good, as such, but not of that
grave character which the words so imperatively demand.
* * * * *
1. ~Terzetto~, ‘Soccorso, sostegno,’ _for soprano, contr’alto, and
basso, composed by_ ~John Lodge~, Esq. (Lonsdale and Mills.)
2. ~Glee~, ‘The Butterfly,’ _for four voices, the words by_ ~S.
Rogers~ [Esq.] _the music by_ ~James Battye~. (Goulding and
D’Almaine.)
3. ~Duet~, ‘Wandering Zephyr,’ (_the words from the Spanish, by
Mrs. Lawrence_,) _composed by_ ~John Lodge~, Esq. (Lonsdale and
Mills.)
4. ~Duet~, ‘We must part, love!’ _written by_ ~W. Ball~, _the
melody by_ ~Mozart~, _with symphonies, &c. by_ ~William Forde~.
(Cocks and Co.)
No. 1 begins with a single voice, the contr’alto following, on the
same subject a fourth below; but the most pleasing part of this is
where the three voices come together. The whole is quite in the Italian
style,--the best, though; and not unworthy the acceptance of the
talented and lovely young dilettante to whom it is dedicated,--the Hon.
Mary Anne Jervis.
* * * * *
No. 2 is not a glee, we beg to hint to the composer: having an
accompaniment, and a free one too, it should have been called a
quartet. The name, however, may not much signify; but as Mr. Brown is
better known by that appellation than if he were called Mr. White, so
the term quartet more correctly explains the nature of the present
composition than that now bestowed on it. But whatever the name of
this, it will not give one to its author: he must not build his hopes
of immortality on _The Butterfly_.
* * * * *
No. 3 is simple, easy in every respect, and exactly calculated to
please those who either do not understand or have no taste for
elaborately written music. In whatever Mr. Lodge publishes, however
unpretending, a trait of originality is always to be found, and this
duettino is no exception to the rule.
* * * * *
We cannot say from which of Mozart’s works Mr. Forde has taken the
melody of No. 4; it does not bear any of the very distinguishing
marks of the author, though agreeable. The words, which are not quite
intelligible to us, are not all adapted with the proper regard to
emphasis, and the accompaniment needs much thinning. With a little
alteration, this duet may be made useful to such amateur singers as are
not disposed to examine too critically the poetry to which they give
utterance.
1. ~Arietta~, ‘Torna in quell’ onda chiara,’ _the words by_
~Metastasio~, _the Music composed by_ ~Lord Burghersh~. (Lonsdale
and Mills.)
2. ~Ballad~, ‘Crabbed Age and Youth,’ _composed and published as
the preceding_.
3. ~Ballad~, ‘Unmindful of my sorrow,’ _written by_ ~Mrs.
Butterworth~, _composed by_ Mrs. ~Philip Millard~. (Monro and May.)
4. ~Ballad~, ‘I know our dream of love is o’er,’ _the melody by_
~Beethoven~, _the Poetry, Symphonies, and Accompaniments by_ ~J. A.
Wade~, Esq. (Hawes.)
5. ~Song~, ‘The World of Change,’ _the poetry by_ ~Mrs. Abdy~,
_adapted to a melody of Spohr’s, by_ ~Edwin J. Neilson~. (Hawes.)
6. ~Song~, ‘When the moon sheds her lustre,’ _written by_ ~S. P.
Quin, Esq.~, _composed by_ ~Alexander D. Roche~. (Cocks and Co.)
7. ~Song~, ‘I saw thee crop that beauteous flower,’ _composed by_
~Charles M’Korkell~. (Chappell.)
8. ~Canzonet~, ‘Farewell, ye green hills,’ _composed by_ ~J. W.
Davison~. (Purday.)
No. 1, short and simple as it is, possesses much of that quality
for which we so often sigh,--originality. Nothing can be more easy
than this, for both singer and accompanyist, and it cannot fail of a
circulation among those who do not take fright at a foreign language.
* * * * *
No. 2, we are told in a note, ‘is founded on the ancient Greek
enharmonic mode, in which the 4th and 7th of the scale are omitted,
as in the scale used in the Scotch melodies.’ In old Scottish airs,
and, what is rather remarkable, in Chinese melodies, these intervals
are rejected, but we do not wish to see the practice imitated, except,
perhaps, now and then, to give--as in the present case--a tinge of
antiquity to music set to ancient poetry.
* * * * *
No. 3 is very expressively set; but the time being marked 2/4, it
appears to us that _larghetto_ would have met the composer’s intentions
better than _andante_, which, in four-quaver time, is quicker than the
character of both words and music seems to justify.
* * * * *
No. 4 is the andante in ~B~ flat from Beethoven’s septet, which Mr.
Wade apparently intends now to be sung much slower than it is played in
its original form. He has not been very fortunate in adapting words to
this; ‘one’ is not emphatic, nor is the last syllable of ‘memory,’ of
‘melody,’ and of ‘minstrelsy,’ long. Me-mo-ry, &c., will not do.
* * * * *
No. 5 also exhibits numerous errors in emphasis, beautiful as is the
air. In fact, as the words are now adapted, a singer would stand a fair
chance of being laughed at who should perform this air.
* * * * *
The sixth and seventh of these call for no remark.
* * * * *
No. 8 sets off with some promise of novelty, but the composer, in
modulating from ~F~ to ~E~ minor, gets quite out of his depth, and is
engulphed in fifths of so abominable a kind, that we cannot allow them
to pass without a remark.
PIANO-FORTE AND VIOLIN.
~Gran Duo Concertante~, _on Airs from_ ~Meyerbeer’s~ Robert le
Diable; _the Piano-forte part by_ ~Kalkbrenner~, _the Violin part
by_ ~Lafont~. (Chappell.)
This is a composition in which two first-rate artists have united their
talents, and requires performers of nearly equal rank to execute it in
a fit and proper manner. It is a work remarkable for its brilliancy,
which appears to have been the principal aim of the writers, for the
greater part is of this cast; though an expressive adagio in ~B~ minor,
and one variation of the same kind in ~F~ minor, operate as seasonable
contrasts and reliefs. The bulk of this consists of an air in ~C~, (we
do not recollect its title,) with, in point of fact, five variations,
though only numbered as two. The first of these requires a violinist
expert in double stops; and if the pianist cannot run demisemiquavers
in thirds, with one hand, in quick time, he had better at once decline
all share in the concertante.
* * * * *
PIANO-FORTE AND FLUTE.
~Introduction~ _and_ ~Rondo~ on ‘Ah! quand il gêle sans se
laisser,’ _chorus in_ ~Onslow’s~ _opera_, Le Colporteur, _composed
by_ ~F. Kulau~, Op. 98. (Hill.)
We cannot any that any great exertion appears to have been made by M.
Kulau either in the choice or arrangement of this chorus, but it has an
advantage, and not a trifling one, namely, that it enables two moderate
performers to make a considerable display without the cost of much
previous practice, and at the expense of but little exertion. This is
in ~E~ minor, but ends in the major key. It has an introduction, which,
though there is an air of pretence in it, is heavy, and signifies
nothing.
* * * * *
1. ~Tre Duettini~, _ridotti per due Flauti e Piano-Forte, da_ ~T.
Bucher~. (Cocks and Co.)
2. ~Paganini’s~ _Three_ ~Fantasias~, _arranged and published by the
same_.
The duets are ‘Cara pupille,’ and ‘Che cangi sempre,’ of Blangini, and
‘Vedi da questi palpiti,’ by Mercadante, arranged as ~Trios~, in as
easy a manner as possible for all three instruments; and to a numerous
class of amateurs they will not be less agreeable because divested of
all manner of difficulty, without being rendered insipid.
* * * * *
No. 2 are as brief as the foregoing, but the flute part requires rather
more skill in the performer, while the accompaniment is much the same
as the other. As to the airs, they are without any distinguishing
character; and why such trifling compositions, so short--only two pages
each--so scanty in subjects, and consequently so destitute of those
flights of imagination which the term fantasia implies, should have
received such a title, we are at a loss to guess.
ANCIENT CONCERTS.
ELEVENTH CONCERT,
_Under the Direction of Earl Howe, Wednesday,
May 29, 1833._
~Act I.~
National anthem, ‘Lord of Heaven.’
Song, ‘Rejoice, O Judah.’ Chorus, ‘Hallelujah.’ ~Handel.~
(_Judas Maccabeus._)
Glee, ‘A generous friendship.’ ~Webbe.~
Recit., ‘Ei parte, senti, ah no!’ Song, ‘Per pietà.’ ~Mozart.~
(_Cosi fan Tutte._)
Chorus, ‘O Father, whose.’ (_Judas Maccabeus._) ~Handel.~
Concerto 2nd. (_Grand._) ~Handel.~
Recit., ‘He was cut off.’ Song, ‘But thou didst not ~Handel.~
leave.’ (_Messiah._)
Chorus, ‘Lift up your heads.’ (_Messiah._) ~Handel.~
Selection from the _Creation_. ~Haydn.~
Recit., ‘And God said.’
Recit. acc., ‘In splendour bright.’
Chorus, ‘The heavens are telling.’
Trio, ‘The day that is coming.’
Grand chorus, ‘The heavens are telling.’
~Act II.~
Overture. (_Henry the Fourth._) ~Martini.~
Recit., ‘Grazie vi rendo.’ Song, ‘A compir.’ ~Guglielmi.~
(_Semiramide._)
Glee, ‘When winds breathe soft.’ ~Webbe.~
Recit., ‘Me, when the sun.’ Song, ‘Hide me from ~Handel.~
Day’s.’ (_Il Pensieroso._)
Overture. (_Prometheus._) ~Beethoven.~
Chorus, ‘Rex tremendæ.’ Quartet, ‘Recordare.’ ~Mozart.~
(_Requiem._)
Glee, ‘Though the last glimpse of Erin.’ Irish air,
harmonized by ~Greatorex.~
Chorus, ‘O sing unto Jehovah.’ ~Haydn.~
This concert, the first selected by the noble Earl who has lately
added his name to the list of directors, augurs very favourably of his
musical knowledge and taste. We here discern no symptoms of prejudice,
of an irrational exclusive system, for the best productions of the
great schools are allowed a place; and, so long as the works of
living composers are declared inadmissible,--a regulation which, for
obvious reasons, ought to be strictly enforced,--the wider the field
for choice, the better, both for the subscribers and the art itself.
With this exception, the rule should be, and we have no doubt will be,
to throw the door wide open to all that is excellent, whatever its
country or date, and to give every work all the advantages that the
best-appointed orchestra can bestow.
The Queen was present at this performance, and perhaps what is here
denominated ‘The National Anthem’ was meant as a compliment to her
Majesty. But why not have called it by its right name? And what reason
can there have been for not giving the composer the credit of it? This
is neither more nor less than Haydn’s Hymn for the Emperor Francis,
with English words adapted to the music,[67] and as such would probably
now have been announced, had not the secretary made his copy from a
book of some former year.
The song from _Judas Maccabeus_ is certainly not one of the best in
that fine oratorio, but the chorus is grand. Webbe’s lovely glee, of
which it is difficult to say whether the melody or the simple harmony
is most charming, was well executed by the second choir; the first
wanted strength in the base. Madame Cinti excels more in the cantabile
than in the declamatory style; she therefore sang the air, ‘Per
pietà,’ divinely, but was not quite so successful in the recitative.
The fine choral prayer, ‘O Father, whose almighty power,’ with the
spirited fugue, forming the second movement, was admirably performed;
as was Handel’s concerto. In the air from the _Messiah_, Mrs. Knyvett
was perfectly at home, as she is in all Handel’s music. Indeed this
lady is, we fear--and we feel with regret this apprehension--likely
to be the last of that school which has received from tradition the
true manner of singing the oratorio music of this master. The chorus
that followed, by being placed in juxtaposition with Haydn’s choral
_chef-d’œuvre_, seemed to challenge comparison; but if Handel is to
be weighed in the scale against Haydn, ‘Lift up your heads,’ though a
very masterly chorus, is not the work to be selected for the purpose.
Nothing can exceed the admirable manner in which the selection from
the _Creation_ was performed: Braham’s ‘In splendour bright’ was
magnificent, and ‘The heavens are telling’ stupendously grand; we never
before heard so perfect a performance, and never were more affected by
choral music.
The very pleasing light overture of Martini found an abundance of
admirers in the room: many who did not justly appreciate Haydn’s
chorus, entered fully into the merits of this. The melody, ‘Charmante
Gabrielle,’ forming part of this, dragged--was played too slow. The
aria, ‘A compir,’ proved too much of a duet; the violin was rendered
more prominent than the composer intended; but Madame Cinti executed
her share of it with a delicacy and neatness that never have been
surpassed. Webbe’s greatest work, his glee, ‘When winds breathe soft,’
was a very finished performance. Miss Stephens sang most sweetly the
song from _Il Pensieroso_. What poetical music! what musical words! But
the whole oratorio (as it is called) whence this is taken, tempts one
to commit an anachronism, by making Milton and Handel commune together
during the progress of their work. The overture to _Prometheus_ went
well, but wanted some of the fire of the Philharmonic orchestra. The
chorus, ‘Rex tremendæ majestatis,’ had ample justice done it; but in
the exquisite quartet, a want of _ensemble_, of that union which good
rehearsing produces, was too apparent.
TWELFTH CONCERT,
_Under the Direction of Lord Burghersh, Wednesday, June 5, 1833._
~Act I.~
Overture. Chorus, ‘O the pleasures.’ (_Acis and ~Handel.~
Galatea._)
Song, ‘Parto ma tu ben.’ (_La Clemenza di ~Mozart.~
Tito._)
Glee, ‘Mark’d you her eye.’ ~Spofforth.~
Recit., ‘O loss of sight!’ Song, ‘Total eclipse!’ ~Handel.~
(_Samson._)
Quartet, ‘Vieni à regni.’ (_Orfeo ed Euridice._) ~Gluck.~
Song, ‘Il pensier stà.’ (_Orfeo ed Euridice._) ~Haydn.~
Recit., ‘Euridice!’ Song, ‘Che farò.’ (_Orfeo ed ~Gluck.~
Euridice._)
Te Deum (MS.) Composed for the Royal Chapel at ~Leo.~
Naples, 1741.
~Act II.~
Overture (_Alceste._) ~Gluck.~
Song, ‘Let the bright seraphim.’ Chorus, ‘Let their ~Handel.~
celestial.’ (_Samson._)
Sestetto, ‘Dove son.’ (_Cosi fan Tutte._) ~Mozart.~
Duetto, ‘Dove scorre.’ ~Mozart.~
Quartet ‘Agnus Dei.’ Chorus, ‘Dona nobis.’ ~Mozart.~
Song, ‘Misera! dove son?’ ~Mozart.~
Madrigal (double choir), ‘When all alone.’ ~Conversi.~
Song. ‘Alles still tiefe.’ ~Keiser,
1694.~
Chorus, ‘Father, we adore thee.’ (_Judah._) ~Haydn.~
With this concert the season concluded, and in a manner which we should
suppose must have determined almost every subscriber to continue
his name on the list for the ensuing year. So good a selection, so
much variety and novelty, never appeared on the books of the Ancient
Concerts. Madame Pasta’s deeply expressive style of singing ‘Parto’
was felt by the whole room, but her shakes, or attempts to shake,
nearly neutralized all the good effect she produced. Spofforth’s very
beautiful glee,--one of those specimens of the English school which
will descend to posterity, and never lose its power to charm,--was,
upon the whole, delicately sung, though somewhat too quick. Mr.
Bennet in ‘Total eclipse!’ did himself the greatest credit; he sang
it most chastely, and afforded the best proofs of having studied the
words as well as music of this exceedingly pathetic song, one of the
_chefs-d’œuvre_ of the great master. The beautiful quartet from Gluck’s
_Orfeo_ was new to these concerts. It is reasonably a matter of wonder
that it never before had been rescued from neglect. We would willingly
have spared the ‘Musica di Ballo,’ which, though essential on the
stage, is quite unnecessary in the concert-room. Not less excellent
than the quartet, though of a different character, is the aria from a
drama written on the same subject, and composed by Haydn--‘Il pensier
stà negli oggetto,’ a gentle, lovely air in ~E~, sung by Mr. Parry,
jun., with great judgment and effect. This, we believe, has never
till now been publicly performed in England![68] We have heard Madame
Pasta, in the scena from Gluck’s opera, with feelings of pleasure less
mingled with regret than on the present occasion. She seems exhausted
by constantly singing. The two spring months in London fatigue a
fashionable performer more than a whole year in cities peopled by
reasonable folks. The _Te Deum_ of Leo, though nearly a century old,
is another novelty, not only to the Ancient Concerts, but to this and,
we suspect, every other country: it is one of the grandest works of
this great composer: and some trombone parts which were, with great
good sense, added to it on the present occasion, increase to a very
considerable degree the sublimity of its effect. To Lord Burghersh,
we are told, the subscribers are indebted for so much that is new to
them; and we are much mistaken if the musical world generally will not
have to thank that accomplished nobleman for having saved this valuable
institution from the dissolution that was impending.
The overture to _Alceste_ is decidedly a work of genius. Was it ever
before performed in London, except forty years ago at the Opera-House?
In the sestetto from _Cosi fan Tutte_ the performers were by no means
at ease; they wanted what they ought to have been compelled to undergo,
a couple of hours’ private study together, with the piano-forte only,
before they even rehearsed it with the band.
‘Dove scorre’ has never been a great favourite with us, though
undoubtedly an elegant composition. It was extremely well executed by
Messrs. Bennet and Phillips. The ‘Agnus Dei,’ from a not very generally
known mass, is a beautiful quartet. The scena, ‘Misera! dove son?’ and
following aria, is from Mozart’s _Operngesaenge_, and, like most of the
pieces in that collection, did not call forth much of the composer’s
strength; Mrs. Bishop, however, did it every justice in her power.
The almost bewitching madrigal of Girolamo Conversi, first published
at Venice, in 1575, was encored!--a great effort for this wonderfully
self-controlled audience. Keiser has recently been made generally known
through the medium of our work, and a very passionate and charming air
by him, admirably sung by Madame Devrient, added to the attraction of
this fine concert,--a concert which has most effectually assisted in
retrieving the character that had been rather damaged by a few former
seasons, and has left a most favourable impression on all who were
present at this last of the _fifty-eighth_ series.
PHILHARMONIC CONCERTS.
SEVENTH CONCERT, MONDAY, May 27, 1833.
~Act I.~
Sinfonia in ~C~. ~Beethoven.~
Aria, Signor Tamburini, ‘O, colpo impensato!’ (_La ~Rossini.~
Gazza Ladra._)
New MS. concerto in ~F~, M. Hummel. ~Hummel.~
Duetto, Madame Pasta e Signor Tamburini, ‘Se la ~Rossini.~
vita.’ (_Semiramide._)
Fantasia Drammatica (MS.) composed expressly for the ~The
Philharmonic Society, and first time of performance. Chevalier
Neukomm.~