Part III.--Feast of the dedication at Jerusalem, after Judas and his

followers had recovered and restored the sanctuary, and re-established

the liberties of his country.--Return of Judas from his final victory

over Nicanor and his confederates.--Celebration of peace, and national

thanksgiving.

The first scene introduces the Israelitish Men and Women lamenting the

death of the father of Judas in the sorrowful chorus, "Mourn, ye

afflicted Children," which, after a duet for soprano and tenor, is

followed by still another chorus in a similar strain ("For Zion

Lamentation make"), but much more impressive, and rising to a more

powerful climax. After a brief and simple soprano solo ("Pious Orgies"),

the chorus sings the prayer, "O Father, whose Almighty Power," closing

with a characteristic fugue on the words, "And grant a Leader." After a

short recitative, Simon (bass) breaks out in the heroic and sonorous

aria, "Arm, arm, ye brave," which has always retained its popularity,

notwithstanding its antique bravura. It is followed by the chorus in the

brief, but stirring number, "We come in bright array." Five arias, a

duet, and two choruses, nearly all of which are now omitted in

performances, being of the same general character, and mainly apostrophes

to liberty, lead to the great chorus closing the first part, "Hear us, O

Lord." It is intricate in its construction, but when properly sung

resolves itself into one of the most vigorous and impressive choruses

Handel has written.

The second part opens with the Israelites celebrating the return of Judas

from the victories over Apollonius and Seron. An instrumental prelude,

picturing the scenes of battle, leads directly to the great chorus, the

best in the work, "Fallen is the Foe." The triumphant declaration is made

over and over with constantly increasing energy, finally leading to a

brilliant fugue on the words, "Where warlike Judas wields his righteous

Sword;" but interwoven with it are still heard those notes of victory,

"Fallen is the Foe," and the response, "So fall Thy Foes." The

Israelitish Man sings a vigorous tribute to Judas ("So rapid thy Course

is"). The triumphant strain, "Zion now her Head shall raise," is taken by

two voices, closing with the soprano alone; but before her part ends, the

whole chorus takes it and joins in the paean, "Tune your Harps," and the

double number ends in broad, flowing harmony. In a florid number ("From

mighty Kings he took the Spoil") the Israelitish Woman once more sings

Judas's praise. The two voices unite in a welcome ("Hail Judaea, happy

Land"), and finally the whole chorus join in a simple but jubilant

acclaim to the same words. The rejoicings soon change to expressions of

alarm and apprehension as a Messenger enters and announces that Gorgias

has been sent by Antiochus to attack the Israelites, and is already near

at hand. They join in a chorus expressive of deep despondency ("Oh,

wretched Israel"); but Simon, in a spirited aria ("The Lord worketh

Wonders"), bids them put their trust in Heaven, and Judas rouses their

courage with the martial trumpet song, "Sound an Alarm," which, though

very brief, is full of vigor and fire. After the departure of Judas to

meet the foe, Simon, the Israelitish Man, and the Israelitish Woman

follow each other in denunciation of the idolatries which have been

practised by the heathen among them, and close with the splendid chorus,

"We never will bow down to the rude Stock or sculptured Stone," in which

vigorous repetitions of the opening phrase lead to a chorale in broad,

impressive harmony, with which is interwoven equally vigorous repetitions

of the phrase, "We worship God alone."

The third part opens with the impressive prayer, "Father of Heaven, from

Thy eternal Throne," sung by the Priest. As the fire ascends from the

altar, the sanctuary having been purified of its heathen defilement, the

Israelites look upon it as an omen of victory and take courage. A

Messenger enters with tidings of Judas's triumph over all their enemies.

The Israelitish Maidens and Youths go out to meet him, singing the

exultant march chorus, "See the Conquering Hero comes," which is familiar

to every one by its common use on all occasions, from Handel's time to

this, where tribute has been paid to martial success and heroes have been

welcomed. It is the universal accompaniment of victory, as the Dead March

in "Saul" is of the pageantry of death. It is very simple in its

construction, like many others of Handel's most effective numbers. It is

first sung as a three-part chorus, then as a duet or chorus of Virgins,

again by the full power of all the voices, and gradually dies away in the

form of an instrumental march. The chorus did not originally belong to

"Judas Maccabaeus," but to "Joshua," in which oratorio it is addressed to

Othniel when he returns from the capture of Debir. Handel frequently made

transfers of that kind, and this was a permanent one; for the celebrated

chorus is now unalterably identified with the work in which he placed it,

and in which also the setting is still more imposing. A very elaborate

chorus ("Sing unto God"), a florid aria with trumpet solo for Judas

("With Honor let Desert be crowned"), the chorus, "To our Great God," a

pastoral duet with exquisite accompaniment ("O Lovely Peace"), and a

Hallelujah in the composer's customary exultant style, close this very

brilliant and dramatic oratorio.

The Dettingen Te Deum.

On the 27th of June, 1743, the British army and its allies, under the

command of King George II. and Lord Stair, won a victory at Dettingen, in

Bavaria, over the French army, commanded by the Marechal de Noailles and

the Duc de Grammont. It was a victory plucked from an expected defeat,

and aroused great enthusiasm in England. On the King's return, a day of

public thanksgiving was appointed, and Handel, who was at that time

"Composer of Musick to the Chapel Royal," was commissioned to write a Te

Deum and an anthem for the occasion. The original score, a large folio

volume in the Royal Collection, is headed "Angefangen Juli 17, 1743."

There is no date at the end; but as the beginning of the Dettingen Anthem

is dated July 30, it is probable that the Te Deum was finished between

the 17th and 30th. Both works were publicly rehearsed at the Chapel

Royal, Whitehall, on the 18th and 25th of the ensuing November, and

formed part of the thanksgiving services on the 27th at the Chapel Royal

of St. James, in the presence of the King and royal family.

The Dettingen Te Deum has been universally considered as one of the

masterpieces among Handel's later works. Never was a victory more

enthusiastically commemorated in music. It is not a Te Deum in the strict

sense, but a grand martial panegyric, and, as Rockstro says:--

"It needs no great stretch of the imagination to picture every drum and

trumpet in the realm taking part in the gorgeous fanfare of its opening

chorus, while the whole army, with the King at its head, joins the

assembled nation in a shout of praise for the escape which was so

unexpectedly changed into a memorable victory."

Schoelcher, in his reference to this work, notes that Handel set the hymn

of St. Ambrose to music five different times in thirty years, and always

with new beauty and fresh color, though it is somewhat remarkable that he

gave each time a plaintive character to the verse, "To Thee all angels

cry aloud,"--a fact also observed by Burney, who says:--

"There is some reason to suspect that Handel, in setting his grand Te

Deum for the peace of Utrecht, as well as in this, confined the meaning

of the word 'cry' to a sorrowful sense, as both the movements to the

words 'To Thee all angels cry aloud' are not only in a minor key, but

slow and plaintive."

Burney further says, speaking of its performance at the great Handel

Commemoration in Westminster Abbey in 1784:--

"As it was composed for a military triumph, the fourteen trumpets, two

pairs of common kettledrums, two pairs of double drums from the Tower,

and a pair of double-bass drums made expressly for this occasion, were

introduced with great propriety; indeed, these last drums, except the

destruction, had all the effect of the most powerful artillery."

The Te Deum contains eighteen short solos and choruses, mostly of a

brilliant, martial character, the solos being divided between the alto,

baritone, and bass. After a brief instrumental prelude, the work opens

with the triumphant, jubilant chorus with trumpets and drums, "We praise

Thee, O God," written for five parts, the sopranos being divided into

firsts and seconds, containing also a short alto solo leading to a

closing fugue. The second number ("All the Earth doth worship Thee") is

also an alto solo with five-part chorus of the same general character. It

is followed by a semi-chorus in three parts ("To Thee all Angels cry

aloud"), plaintive in style, as has already been observed, and leading to

the full chorus ("To Thee Cherubim and Seraphim"), which is majestic in

its movement and rich in harmony. The fifth number is a quartet and

chorus ("The glorious Company of the Apostles praise Thee"), dominated by

the bass, with responses from the other parts, and followed by a short

full chorus ("Thine adorable, true, and only Son"). The seventh number is

a stirring bass solo with trumpets ("Thou art the King of Glory"),

leading without break into a stately choral enunciation of the same

words. The eighth is a slow and plaintive bass solo, usually sung by a

tenor ("When Thou tookest upon Thee to deliver Man"), followed by a grave

and impressive chorus ("When Thou hadst overcome the Sharpness of

Death"). The next number is a trio for alto, tenor, and bass ("Thou

sittest at the Right Hand of God"), closing with a beautiful adagio

effect. A fanfare of trumpets introduces the next four numbers, all

choruses, set to four verses of the hymn:--

"We therefore pray Thee, help Thy servants: Whom Thou hast redeemed

with Thy precious blood.

"Make them to be numbered with Thy Saints: in glory everlasting.

"O Lord, save Thy people: and bless Thine heritage.

"Govern them: and lift them up forever.

"Day by day: we magnify Thee:

"And we worship Thy Name! ever, world without end."

In this group of choruses the art of fugue and counterpoint is splendidly

illustrated, but never to the sacrifice of brilliant effect, which is

also heightened by the trumpets in the accompaniments. An impressive bass

solo ("Vouchsafe, O Lord") intervenes, and then the trumpets sound the

stately symphony to the final chorus, "O Lord, in Thee have I trusted."

It begins with a long alto solo with delicate oboe accompaniment that

makes the effect very impressive when voices and instruments take up the

phrase in a magnificent outburst of power and rich harmony, and carry it

to the close.

HAYDN.

Joseph Haydn, the creator of the symphony and the stringed quartet, was

born at Rohrau, a little Austrian village on the river Leitha, March 31,

1732. His father was a wheelwright and his mother a cook, in service with

Count Harrach. Both the parents were fond of music, and both sang, the

father accompanying himself upon the harp, which he played by ear. The

child displayed a voice so beautiful that in his sixth year he was

allowed to study music, and was also given a place in the village

church-choir. Reutter, the capellmeister of St. Stephen's, Vienna, having

heard him, was so impressed with the beauty of his voice that he offered

him a position as chorister. Haydn eagerly accepted it, as it gave him

opportunities for study. While in the service of St. Stephen's he had

lessons on the violin and piano, as well as in composition. When his

voice broke, and his singing was of no further value, he was thrown upon

the tender mercies of the world. Fortune favored him, however. He

obtained a few pupils, and gave himself up to composition. He made the

acquaintance of Metastasio, Porpora, and Gluck. His trios began to

attract attention, and he soon found himself rising into prominence. In

1759, through the influence of a wealthy friend and amateur, he was

appointed to the post of musical director and composer in the service of

Count Morzin, and about this time wrote his first symphony. When the

Count dismissed his band, Prince Paul Anton Esterhazy received him as his

second capellmeister, under Werner. When the latter died, in 1766, Haydn

took his place as sole director. His patron, meanwhile, had died, and was

succeeded by his brother Nicolaus, between whom and Haydn there was the

utmost good feeling. Up to this time Haydn had written thirty symphonies,

a large number of trios, quartets, and several vocal pieces. His

connection with the Prince lasted until 1790, and was only terminated by

the latter's death. But during this period of twenty-eight years his

musical activity was unceasing; and as he had an orchestra of his own,

and his patron was ardently devoted to music, the incentive to

composition was never lacking. Anton succeeded Nicolaus, and was generous

enough to increase Haydn's pension; but he dismissed the entire chapel,

and the composer took up his abode in Vienna. He was hardly established

before he received a flattering proposition from Salomon, the manager, to

go to England. He had already had many pressing invitations from others,

but could not accept them, owing to his engagement at Esterhazy. Now that

he was free, he decided to make the journey. On New Year's Day, 1791, he

arrived in London. Success greeted him at once. He became universally

popular. Musicians and musical societies paid him devoted attention. He

gave a series of symphony concerts which aroused the greatest enthusiasm.

He was treated with distinguished courtesy by the royal family. Oxford

gave him the honorary degree of Doctor of Music. The nobility entertained

him sumptuously. After a year of continuous fetes, he returned to

Germany, where he remained two years, during a portion of which time

Beethoven was his pupil. In 1794 he made his second journey to England,

where his former successes were repeated, and fresh honors were showered

upon him. In 1804 he was notified by Prince Esterhazy that he was about

to reorganize his chapel, and wished him for its conductor again. Haydn

accordingly returned to his old position, where he remained during the

rest of his life. He was already an old man, but it was during this

period that his most remarkable works were produced, among them the

Austrian National Hymn ("Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser"), the "Seven

Words," the "Creation," the "Seasons," and many of his best trios and

quartets. He died May 31, 1809, a few days after the occupation of Vienna

by the French, and among the mourners at his funeral were many French

officers. Funeral services were held in all the principal European

cities. Honored and respected all over Europe, he was most deeply loved

by his own countrymen, who still affectionately speak of him as "Papa"

Haydn.

The Creation.

Haydn was sixty-five years of age when he undertook the great work of his

life. It was begun in 1796, and finished in 1798. When urged to bring it

to a conclusion more rapidly, he replied, "I spend much time over it,

because I intend it to last a long time." Shortly before his final

departure from London, Salomon, his manager, brought him a poem for music

which had been compiled by Lydley from Milton's "Paradise Lost," for use

by Handel, though the latter had not availed himself of it. Haydn took it

with him to Vienna, and submitted it to the Baron van Swieten, the

Emperor's librarian, who was not only a very learned scholar, but also

something of a musician and composer. The Baron suggested that he should

make an oratorio of it, and to encourage him, not only translated the

text into German, but added a number of arias, duets, and choruses,

particularly those of the descriptive kind. Several of the nobility also

guaranteed the expenses of preparation and performance. His friend

Griesinger writes:--

"Haydn wrote 'The Creation' in his sixty-fifth year with all the spirit

that usually dwells in the breast of youth. I had the good fortune to

be a witness of the deep emotions and joyous enthusiasm which several

performances of it under Haydn's own direction aroused in all

listeners. Haydn also confessed to me that it was not possible for him

to describe the emotions with which he was filled as the performance

met his entire expectation, and his audience listened to every note.

'One moment I was as cold as ice, and the next I seemed on fire, and

more than once I feared I should have a stroke.'"

On another occasion Haydn remarked: "Never was I so pious as when

composing 'The Creation.' I knelt down every day and prayed God to

strengthen me for the work." That he sought this inspiration in his old

age more than once, we may infer from another remark to Griesinger: "When

composition does not get on well, I go to my chamber, and with rosary in

hand say a few _aves_, and then the ideas return." It was first performed

in private at the Schwartzenberg Palace, April 29, 1798; and Bombet, the

celebrated French critic, who was present, says in one of his letters:

"Who can describe the applause, the delight, the enthusiasm of this

society? I was present, and I can assure you I never witnessed such a

scene. The flower of the literary and musical society of Vienna were

assembled in the room, which was well adapted to the purpose, and Haydn

himself directed the orchestra. The most profound silence, the most

scrupulous attention, a sentiment, I might almost say, of religious

respect, were the dispositions which prevailed when the first stroke of

the bow was given. The general expectation was not disappointed. A long

train of beauties, to that moment unknown, unfolded themselves before

us; our minds, overcome with pleasure and admiration, experienced

during two successive hours what they had rarely felt,--a happy

existence, produced by desires, ever lively, ever renewed, and never

disappointed."

The first public performance was given at the National Theatre, March 19,

1799, Haydn's name-day, and the next by the Tonkuenstler Societaet. On the

9th of March he conducted it at the palace of Ofen before the Archduke

Palatine Joseph of Hungary. Its success was immediate, and rivalled that

of "The Messiah." It was performed all over Europe, and societies were

organized for the express purpose of producing it. In London rival

performances of it were given at Covent Garden and the King's Theatre

during the year 1800.

The oratorio opens with an overture representing chaos. Its effect is at

first dull and indefinite, its utterances inarticulate, and its notes

destitute of perceptible melody. It is Nature in her chaotic state,

struggling into definite form. Gradually instrument after instrument

makes an effort to extricate itself, and as the clarinets and flutes

struggle out of the confusion, the feeling of order begins to make itself

apparent. The resolutions indicate harmony. At last the wonderful

discordances settle, leaving a misty effect that vividly illustrates "the

Spirit of God moving upon the face of the waters." Then, at the fiat of

the Creator, "Let there be Light," the whole orchestra and chorus burst

forth in the sonorous response, "And there was Light." A brief passage by

Uriel (tenor) describes the division of light from darkness, and the end

of chaos, introducing a fugued chorus, in which the rage of Satan and his

hellish spirits, as they are precipitated into the abyss, is described

with tremendous discords and strange modulations; but before it closes,

the music relates the beauties of the newly created earth springing up

"at God's command." Raphael describes the making of the firmament, the

raging of the storms, the flashing lightning and rolling thunders, the

showers of rain and hail, and the gently falling snow, to an

accompaniment which is closely imitative in character. The work of the

second day forms the theme of "The Marvellous Work," for soprano obligato

with chorus,--a number characterized by great joyousness and spirit. This

leads to the number, "Rolling in foaming Billows," in which the music is

employed to represent the effect of water, from the roaring billows of

the "boisterous seas," and the rivers flowing in "serpent error," to "the

limpid brook," whose murmuring ripple is set to one of the sweetest and

most delicious of melodies. This leads the way to the well-known aria,

"With Verdure clad," of which Haydn himself was very fond, and which he

recast three times before he was satisfied with it. It is followed by a

fugued chorus ("Awake the Harp"), in which the Angels praise the Creator.

We next pass to the creation of the planets. The instrumental prelude is

a wonderful bit of constantly developing color, which increases "in

splendor bright," until the sun appears. It is followed by the rising of

the moon, to an accompaniment as tender as its own radiance; and as the

stars appear, "the Sons of God" announce the fourth day, and the first

part closes with the great chorus, "The Heavens are telling," in which

the entire force of band and singers is employed in full, broad harmony

and sonorous chords, leading to a cadence of magnificent power.

The second part opens with the aria, "On mighty Pens," describing in a

majestic manner the flight of the eagle, and then blithely passes to the

gayety of the lark, the tenderness of the cooing doves, and the

plaintiveness of the nightingale, in which the singing of the birds is

imitated as closely as the resources of music will allow. A beautiful

terzetto describes with inimitable grace the gently sloping hills covered

with their verdure, the leaping of the fountain into the light, and the

flights of birds, and a bass solo in sonorous manner takes up the

swimming fish, closing with "the upheaval of Leviathan from the deep,"

who disports himself among the double-basses. This leads to a powerful

chorus, "The Lord is great." The next number describes the creation of

various animals; and perhaps nothing that art contains can vie with it in

varied and vivid description. It begins with the lion, whose deep roar is

heard among the wind-instruments. The alertness of the "flexible tiger"

is shown in rapid flights by the strings. A presto ingeniously represents

the quick movements of the stag. The horse is accompanied by music which

prances and neighs. A quiet pastoral movement, in strong contrast with

the preceding abrupt transitions, pictures the cattle seeking their food

"on fields and meadows green." A flutter of sounds describes the swarms

of insects in the air, and from this we pass to a long, undulating thread

of harmony, representing "the sinuous trace" of the worm. This

masterpiece of imitative music is contained in a single recitative. A

powerful and dignified aria, sung by Raphael ("Now Heaven in fullest

Glory shone"), introduces the creation of man, which is completed in an

exquisitely beautiful aria ("In Native Worth ") by Uriel, the second part

of which is full of tender beauty in its description of the creation of

Eve, and closes with a picture of the happiness of the newly created

pair. A brief recitative ("And God saw everything that He had made")

leads to the chorus, "Achieved is the glorious Work,"--a fugue of great

power, superbly accompanied. It is interrupted by a trio ("On Thee each

living Soul awaits"), but soon returns with still greater power and

grandeur, closing with a Gloria and Hallelujah of magnificent

proportions.

The third part opens with a symphonic introduction descriptive of the

first morning of creation, in which the flutes and horns, combined with

the strings, are used with exquisite effect. In a brief recitative ("In

rosy Mantle appears") Uriel pictures the joy of Adam and Eve, and bids

them sing the praise of God with the angelic choir, which forms the theme

of the succeeding duet and chorus ("By Thee with Bliss"); to which the

answering choir replies with a gentle and distant effect, as if from the

celestial heights, "Forever blessed be His Power." Again Adam and Eve in

successive solos, finally uniting, join with the choir in extolling the

goodness of God; and as they close, all take up the beautiful and

majestic paean, "Hail, bounteous Lord! Almighty, hail!" As the angelic

shout dies away, a tender, loving dialogue ensues between Adam and Eve,

leading to the beautiful duet, "Graceful Consort," which is not only the

most delightful number in the work, but in freshness, sweetness, and

tenderness stands almost unsurpassed among compositions of its kind.

After a short bit of recitative by Uriel ("O happy Pair"), the chorus

enters upon the closing number ("Sing the Lord, ye Voices all"),

beginning slowly and majestically, then developing into a masterly fugue

("Jehovah's Praise forever shall endure"), and closing with a Laudamus of

matchless beauty, in which the principal voices in solo parts are set off

against the choral and orchestral masses with powerful effect.

Haydn's last appearance in public was at a performance of the "Creation,"

which took place in 1808, when it was given in Italian under the

direction of Salieri. Dies says of this remarkable scene:--

"On alighting from the Prince's carriage, he was received by

distinguished personages of the nobility and by his scholar, Beethoven.

The crowd was so great that the military had to keep order. He was

carried, sitting in his arm-chair, into the hall, and was greeted upon

his entrance with a flourish of trumpets and joyous shouts of 'Long

live Haydn!' He occupied a seat next his Princess, the Prince being at

court that day; and on the other side sat his favorite scholar,

Fraeulein Kurzbeck. The highest people of rank in Vienna selected seats

in his vicinity. The French ambassador noticed that he wore the medal

of the Paris Concert des Amateurs. 'Not only this, but all the medals

which have been awarded in France, you ought to have received,' said

he. Haydn thought he felt a little draught; the Princess threw her

shawl about him, many ladies following her example, and in a few

moments he was completely wrapped in shawls. Poems by Collin and

Carpani, the adapter of the text, were presented to him. He could no

longer conceal his feelings. His overburdened heart sought and found

relief in tears. When the passage, 'And there was Light,' came, and the

audience broke out into tumultuous applause, he made a motion of his

hands towards heaven, and said, 'It came from thence.' He remained in

such an agitated condition that he was obliged to take his leave at the

close of the first part. As he went out, the audience thronged about

him to take leave of him, and Beethoven kissed his hand and forehead

devoutly. His departure completely overcame him. He could not address

the audience, and could only give expression to his heartfelt gratitude

with broken, feeble utterances and blessings. Upon every countenance

there was deep pity, and tearful eyes followed him as he was taken to

his carriage."

He lived but a short time longer, but long enough to witness the success

of his scholar, Beethoven, in the same year.

The Seasons.

"The Seasons," written two years after "The Creation," was Haydn's last

oratorio. The music was composed between April, 1798, and April, 1801. It

is not an oratorio in the strict sense of the term, as it partakes of the

form and qualities, not only of the oratorio, but also of the opera and

cantata. The words were compiled by Baron van Swieten from Thomson's

well-known poem of "The Seasons," but it was a long time before he could

persuade Haydn to undertake the task of composing an oratorio on the

subject. His old age and infirmities made him averse to the work. He was

greatly annoyed by the text, and still more so by its compiler, who

insisted upon changes in the music which Haydn testily declined to make.

He was frequently irritated over the many imitative passages, and it was

to relieve his own feelings and vary the monotony of the sentiment that

he introduced the rollicking bacchanal chorus in the third part. He

expressed his feelings to a friend in the remark: "My head was so full of

the nonsensical stuff that it all went topsy-turvy, and I therefore

called the closing fugue the 'drunken fugue.'" Notwithstanding his many

objections, when once he started, he worked hard,--so hard, indeed, that

this continuous labor induced brain-fever and intense suffering, and he

never entirely rallied from its effects. A weakness followed, which

constantly increased. To one friend he remarked: "The 'Seasons' have

brought this trouble upon me. I ought not to have written it. I have

overdone;" and to another: "I have done; my head is no longer what it

was. Formerly ideas came to me unsought: I am now obliged to seek for

them; and for this I feel I am not formed." It is a sad picture, that of

the old composer sitting down to work in his seventieth year, distrustful

of his own powers, with an uncongenial text before him; but no

indications of age or weakness are to be found in this music, which from

its first note to the last is fresh, original, bright, and graceful,--a

treasure-house of ideas to which subsequent composers have gone time

after time when they would write of Nature or attempt to picture her

moods.

The "Seasons" was first performed at the Schwartzenberg Palace, Vienna,

April 24, 1801, and was repeated on the 27th and on the 1st of May. On

the 29th of May Haydn himself conducted it in public at the Redoutensaal,

for his own benefit. Though some of the critics disparaged it, and

Beethoven was not overpleased with it, it met with a great popular

success, and Haydn himself was delighted with the work that had cost him

so much trouble. Bombet, the French critic, who was present at the first

performance, says of it:--

"The best critique that has been given of the work is that which Haydn

himself addressed to me when I went to give him an account of the

performance of it in the Palace Schwartzenberg. The applause had been

universal, and I hastened out to congratulate the author. Scarcely had

I opened my lips when the honest composer stopped me: 'I am happy to

find that my music pleases the public; but I can receive no compliment

on this work from you. I am convinced that you feel yourself that it is

not the "Creation;" and the reason is this: in the "Creation" the

actors are angels; here they are peasants.'"

The work is divided into four parts,--Spring, Summer, Autumn, and

Winter,--and the characters introduced are Simon, a farmer; Jane, his

daughter; Lucas, a young countryman and shepherd; and a chorus of Country

People and Hunters. A vivacious overture, expressing the passage from

winter to spring, and recitatives by Simon, Lucas, and Jane, who in turn

express their delight at the close of the one season and the approach of

the other, lead to the opening chorus ("Come, gentle Spring, ethereal

Mildness, come"),--a fresh and animated number, which is familiar to

every one. Simon trolls out a pastoral aria ("With Joy the impatient

Husbandman"), full of the very spirit of quiet, peace, and happiness,--a

quaint melody which will inevitably recall to opera-goers the "Zitti,

Zitti" from Rossini's "Barber of Seville," the essential difference

between the two pieces being that in the latter the time is greatly

accelerated. This aria is followed by a trio and chorus ("Be propitious,

bounteous Heaven"), a free fugue, in which all beseech a blessing upon

the sowing of the seed. The next number is a duet for Jane and Lucas,

with chorus ("Spring her lovely Charms unfolding"), which is fairly

permeated with the delicate suggestions of opening buds and the delights

of the balmy air and young verdure of spring. As its strains die away,

all join in the cheerful fugued chorus, "God of Light," which closes the

first part.

After a brief adagio prelude, the second part, "Summer," opens with a

charming aria by Simon ("From out the Fold the Shepherd drives"), which

gives us a delightful picture of the shepherd driving his flock along the

verdant hillside, then leaning upon his staff to watch the rising sun. As

it appears, it is welcomed by trio and chorus with the exultant shout,

"Hail, O glorious Sun!" As noon approaches, the music fairly becomes

radiant. A series of recitatives and arias follow, bringing out in a

vivid and picturesque manner the oppressive, exhaustive heat and the

longing for rest and shade, leading at last to an ominous silence as the

clouds begin to gather and the sky darkens. A short recitative prepares

the way. A crash of thunder is heard upon the drums: it is the prelude to

the storm-chorus ("Hark! the deep tremendous Voice"), which has been the

model for nearly all the storm-descriptions written since Haydn's time.

It is worked up to a tremendous climax of tumult and terror, of pouring

rain, flashing lightning, and pealing thunder. At last the tempest dies

away, and in the trio and chorus, "Now cease the Conflicts," night comes

on, with its song of the quail,--which Beethoven subsequently utilized in

his Pastoral Symphony,--the chirp of the crickets, the croaking of the

frogs, the distant chime of the evening bells, and the invocation to

sleep. Of the frog episode, Nohl says:--

"He particularly disliked the croaking of the frogs, and realized how

much it lowered his art. Swieten showed him an old piece of Gretry's in

which the croak was imitated with striking effect. Haydn contended that

it would be better if the entire croak were omitted, though he yielded

to Swieten's importunities. He declared afterwards, however, that the

frog passage was not his own. 'It was urged upon me,' he said, 'to

write this French croak. In the orchestral setting it is very brief,

and it cannot be done on the piano. I trust the critics will not treat

me with severity for it. I am an old man, and liable to make

mistakes.'"

After a quaintly melodious prelude the third part opens with a terzetto

and chorus ("Thus Nature ever kind rewards"), an invocation to virtue and

industry, and a quaintly sentimental duet ("Ye gay and painted Fair").

The next number, an aria by Simon ("Behold along the dewy Grass"),--which

gives us a picture of the hunter and his dog pursuing a bird,--prepares

the way for the great hunting chorus ("Hark! the Mountains resound"), one

of the most graphic and stirring choruses of this description ever

written. The whole scene,--the vales and forests resounding with the

music of the horns, the finding of the quarry, the flying stag

outstripping the wind, the pack at fault, but starting in again as they

find the scent, the tally-ho of the hunters, the noble animal at bay, his

death, and the shouts of the crowd,--are all pictured with a freshness

and genuine out-door feeling which seem almost incredible considering

Haydn's age. This remarkable number is separated from its natural

companion, the bacchanalian chorus, by a recitative extolling the wealth

of the vintage. This chorus ("Joyful the Liquor flows") is in two

parts,--first a hymn in praise of wine, sung by the tippling revellers,

and second, a dance tempo, full of life and beauty, with imitations of

the bagpipe and rustic fiddles, the melody being a favorite Austrian

dance-air. With this rollicking combination, for the two movements are

interwoven, the third part closes.

A slow orchestral prelude, "expressing the thick fogs at the approach of

winter," introduces the closing part. In recitative Simon describes the

on-coming of the dreary season, and Jane reiterates the sentiment in the

cavatina, "Light and Life dejected languish." In Lucas's recitative we

see the snow covering the fields, and in his following aria, "The

Traveller stands perplexed," a graphic tone-picture of the wanderer lost

in the snow is presented. At last he espies the friendly light in the

cottage. "Melodious voices greet his ears," and as he enters he beholds

the friendly circle, the old father telling over his stories of the past,

the mother plying the distaff, the girls spinning, and the young people

making the night merry with jest and sport. At last they join in a

characteristic imitative chorus ("Let the Wheel move gayly"). After the

spinning they gather about the fire, and Jane sings a charming love-story

("A wealthy Lord who long had loved"), accompanied by chorus. Simon

improves the occasion to moralize on the sentiment of the seasons in the

aria, "In this, O vain, misguided Man," impressing upon us the lesson

that "Nought but Truth remains;" and with a general appeal to Heaven for

guidance through life, this quaint and peaceful pastoral poem in music

draws to its close. It was the last important work of the aged Haydn, but

it has all the charm and freshness of youth.

LISZT.

Franz Liszt, the most eminent pianist of his time, who also obtained

world-wide celebrity as a composer and orchestral conductor, was born at

Raiding, Hungary, Oct. 22, 1811. His father was an accomplished amateur,

and played the piano and violoncello with more than ordinary skill. He

was In his ninth year Liszt played for the first noblemen encouraged him

to continue his studies, and guaranteed him sufficient to defray the

expenses of six years' tuition. He went to Vienna at once and studied the

piano with Czerny, besides taking lessons in composition from Salieri and

Randhartinger. It was while in that city that his first composition, a

variation on a waltz of Diabelli, appeared. In 1823 he went to Paris,

hoping to secure admission to the Conservatory; but Cherubini refused it

on account of his foreign origin, though Cherubini himself was a

foreigner. Nothing daunted, young Liszt continued his studies with Reicha

and Paer, and two years afterwards brought out a one-act opera entitled

"Don Sancho," which met with a very cordial reception. The slight he had

received from Cherubini aroused popular sympathy for him. His wonderful

playing attracted universal attention and gained him admission into the

most brilliant Parisian salons. He soon became known as the

"wonder-child," and was a favorite with every one, especially with the

ladies. For two or three years he made artistic tours through France,

Switzerland, and England, accompanied by his father, and everywhere met

with the most brilliant success. In 1827 the father died, leaving him

alone in the world; but good fortune was on his side. During his stay in

Paris he had made the friendship of Victor Hugo, George Sand, Lamartine,

and other great lights in literature and music, and their influence

prepared the way for his permanent success. Notwithstanding that he was

in many senses a Bohemian and a man of the world, he had a strong

religious tendency. For a time he became deeply interested in the

doctrines of Saint-Simon; but his adherence to that system did not last

long. He speedily returned to the Roman Church, and some years afterwards

went to Rome, at the suggestion of the Pontiff took orders, and set

himself about the work of reforming the church music,--a task, however,

which he soon abandoned; too many obstacles stood in his way. He expected

to become Capellmeister at the Sistine Chapel; but, as he himself said:

"I was thwarted by the lack of culture among the cardinals; and besides,

most of the princes of the Church were Italian." The Abbe was soon in

Germany again, where he resided until the close of his life. From 1839 to

1847 he travelled from one city to another, arousing the most

extraordinary enthusiasm; his progress was one continued ovation. In 1849

he went to Weimar and accepted the post of conductor at the Court

Theatre. He made Weimar the musical centre of Europe. It was there that

his greatest compositions were written, that the school of the music of

the future was founded, and that Wagner's operas first gained an

unprejudiced hearing; and it is from Weimar that his distinguished

pupils, like Von Buelow, Tausig, Bendel, Bronsart, Klindworth,

Winterberger, Reubke, and many others date their success. In 1859 he

resigned his position, and after that time resided at Rome, Pesth, and

Weimar, working for the best interests of his beloved art, and

encouraging young musicians to reach the highest standards. Few men of

this century have had such a powerful influence upon music, or have done

so much to elevate and purify it. His most important works were the

"Divina Commedia" and "Faust" symphonies, the twelve symphonic poems, the

six Hungarian rhapsodies, the "Graner Mass," the "Hungarian Coronation

Mass," and the oratorios "Christus" and "The Legend of the Holy

Elizabeth." Besides these he wrote a large number of orchestral pieces,

songs, and cantatas, and a rich and varied collection of pianoforte

solos, transcriptions, and arrangements. He died July 31, 1886.

The Legend of the Holy Elizabeth.

The oratorio, "Legend of the Holy Elizabeth," was written in 1864, and

first produced Aug. 15, 1865, upon the occasion of the twenty-fifth

anniversary of the Conservatory of Pesth-Ofen. The text is by Otto

Roquette, and was inspired by Moritz von Schwind's frescos at the

Wartburg representing scenes in the life of the saint. A brief allusion

to her history will still further elucidate the story which Liszt has

treated so powerfully. She was the daughter of King Andreas II. of

Hungary, and was born in 1207. At the age of four she was betrothed to

Ludwig, son of the Landgrave Hermann of Thuringia, whom she married in

1220. After his death, in 1227, she was driven from the Wartburg and

forced to give up the regency by her cruel and ambitious mother-in-law.

After long wanderings and many privations she retired to Bamberg, where

her uncle, the bishop, dwelt; but shortly afterwards her rights were

restored to her. She renounced them in favor of her son, Hermann II., and

died in 1231. Four years later she was canonized at Marpurg by order of

Pope Gregory IX. Her life was devoted to the relief of the poor and

suffering.

The characters introduced in the oratorio are Saint Elizabeth, Landgrave

Ludwig, Landgrave Hermann, Landgravine Sophie, a Hungarian Magnate, the

Seneschal, and the Emperor Frederick II. The last three _roles_ are

usually assigned to Ludwig, thus reducing the number of solo-singers to

four. The work is laid out in two parts, each having three scenes

corresponding in subjects with Von Schwind's six frescos. The first

describes the arrival of Elizabeth at the Wartburg, and the welcome she

receives. In the second she is married, and her husband, Ludwig, has

succeeded to the throne. His devotion to knight-errantry leads him from

home. During his absence a famine breaks out, and Elizabeth in her

devotion to the sufferers impoverishes herself and incurs the wrath of

her mother-in-law, the Landgravine Sophie. While carrying a basket of

bread and wine one day to the victims of the scourge, she is met by her

husband, who has unexpectedly returned. Amazed at the absence of her

attendants, he questions her, and she excuses herself with the plea that

she has been gathering flowers. Doubting the truth of her statement, he

snatches the basket from her. She confesses her falsehood; but upon

examining the basket it is found to be full of roses. The Lord has

performed a miracle. Overcome with remorse for doubting her, Ludwig begs

her forgiveness, and the two join in prayer that the Lord may continue

His goodness to them. The third scene opens at Schmalkald, on the borders

of Thuringia, where Ludwig has assembled his knights and nobles who are

to accompany him to the Holy Land. They declare their allegiance to

Ludwig as their leader, and he calls upon them also to swear fealty to

his wife. After a sad farewell Ludwig rides away at the head of his

Crusaders. The fourth scene opens with the news of Ludwig's death. The

Landgravine claims the castle as her inheritance, compels Elizabeth to

abandon the regency, and drives her out in the midst of a furious storm.

In the fifth scene we find her at a hospital which she has founded, and

notwithstanding her own troubles and sufferings still ministering to

others in like affliction. This scene closes with her death, and in the

last we have the ceremonies of her canonization at Marpurg.

The first scene opens with a long orchestral introduction, working up to

a powerful climax, and based mainly upon a theme from the old church

service, which is Elizabeth's motive, and is frequently heard throughout

the work. An animated prelude which follows it introduces the opening

chorus ("Welcome the Bride"). A brief solo by Landgrave Hermann

("Welcome, my little Daughter") and another of a national character by

the Hungarian Magnate attending the bride intervene, and again the chorus

break out in noisy welcome. After a dignified solo by Hermann and a brief

dialogue between Ludwig and Elizabeth, a light, graceful allegretto

ensues, leading up to a children's chorus ("Merriest Games with thee

would we play"), which is delightfully fresh and joyous in its character.

At its close the chorus of welcome resumes, and the scene ends with a

ritornelle of a plaintive kind, foreboding the sorrow which is fast

approaching.

The second scene, after a short prelude, opens with Ludwig's hunting-song

("From the Mists of the Valleys"), which is written in the conventional

style of songs of this class, although it has two distinct movements in

strong contrast. As he meets Elizabeth, a dialogue ensues, including the

scene of the rose miracle, leading up to a brief chorus ("The Lord has

done a Wonder"), and followed by an impressive duet in church style ("Him

we worship and praise this Day"). The scene closes with an ensemble, a

duet with full choral harmony, worked up with constantly increasing power

and set to an accompaniment full of rich color and brilliant effect.

The third scene opens with the song of the Crusaders, an impetuous and

brilliant chorus ("In Palestine, the Holy Land"), the accompaniment to

which is an independent march movement. The stately rhythm is followed by

a solo by the Landgrave, bidding farewell to Elizabeth and appealing to

his subjects to be loyal to her. The chorus replies in a short number,

based upon the Hungarian melody which has already been heard. Elizabeth

follows with a tender but passionate appeal to her husband ("Oh, tarry!

oh, shorten not the Hour"), leading to a solo ("With Grief my Spirit

wrestles"), which is full of the pain of parting. A long dialogue follows

between them, interrupted here and there by the strains of the Crusaders,

in which finally the whole chorus join with great power in a martial but

sorrowful style. As it comes to a close, the orchestra breaks out into

the Crusaders' march,--a brilliant picture of the knightly pageant, the

time gradually accelerating as well as the force, until it reaches a

tremendous climax. The trio of the march is based upon a religious melody

which was sung in the time of the Crusaders; but the remainder follows

the Gregorian intonation. The chorus once more resumes its shout of

jubilee, and the brilliant scene comes to an end. So vividly colored is

this music that one can well fancy the sorrowful Elizabeth as she stands

gazing at the band of knights, with Ludwig at their head, slowly riding

away, pennons fluttering in the breeze, and lances and mail glittering in

the sunlight.

In the fourth scene a slow and mournful movement, followed by an allegro

ominous and agitated in style, introduces the Landgravine Sophie, the

evil genius of the Wartburg. The tidings of the death of Ludwig have

come, and with fierce declamation she orders Elizabeth away from the

castle. The latter replies in an aria ("O Day of Mourning, Day of

Sorrow") marked by sorrowful lamentation. Sophie again hurls her

imprecations, and a very dramatic dialogue ensues, which takes the trio

form as the reluctant Seneschal consents to enforce the cruel order. Once

more Elizabeth tenderly appeals to her in the aria, "Thou too art a

Mother." Sophie impatiently and fiercely exclaims, "No longer tarry!" The

scene comes to an end with Elizabeth's lament as she goes out into the

storm, which is vividly described in an orchestral movement, interspersed

with vocal solos. These have little bearing upon the subject-matter,

however, which is mainly described by the band with overwhelming power.

The fifth scene opens with a long declamatory solo by Elizabeth,--full of

tenderness and pathos, in which she recalls the dream of

childhood,--closing with an orchestral movement of the same general

character. It is followed by the full chorus ("Here 'neath the Roof of

Want"), which after a few bars is taken by the sopranos and altos

separately, closing with chorus again and soprano solo ("Elizabeth, thou

holy one"). The death-scene follows ("This is no earthly Night"). Her

last words, "Unto mine End Thy Love has led me," are set to music full of

pathos, and as she expires, the instrumentation dies away in peaceful,

tranquil strains. A semi-chorus, which can also be sung by three solo

voices ("The Pain is over"), closes the sad scene, the ritornelle at the

end being made still more effective by the harps, which give it a

celestial character.

The last scene opens with an interlude which gathers up all the motives

of the oratorio,--the Pilgrim's Song, the Crusaders' March, the Church

Song, and the Hungarian Air, and weaves them into a rich and varied

texture for full orchestra, bells, and drums, forming the funeral song of

the sainted Elizabeth,--the same effect, and produced in the same manner,

which Wagner subsequently used with such magnificent power in the dirge

of Siegfried. It is followed by a solo from the Emperor, "I see assembled

round the Throne,"--a slow and dignified air, leading to the great

ensemble closing the work, and descriptive of the canonization of

Elizabeth. It begins as an antiphonal chorus ("Mid Tears and Solemn

Mourning"), the female chorus answering the male and closing in unison.

Once more the Crusaders' March is heard in the orchestra as the knights

sing, "O Thou whose Life-blood streamed." The church choir sings the

chorale, "Decorata novo flore," the Hungarian and German bishops intone

their benedictions, and then all join in the powerful and broadly

harmonious hymn, "Tu pro nobis Mater pia," closing with a sonorous and

majestic "Amen."

Christus.

"Christus, oratorio, with texts from the Holy Scriptures and the Catholic

Liturgy," as Liszt entitles his work, was finished in 1866. At the outset

the composer selected the "Hymn of Praise" and "Pater Noster" from

Ruechert's "Evangelical Harmony;" and upon these and one or two other

detached numbers for a background, he built up a series of religious

events connected with the offices of the Church according to the Vulgate

and its Liturgy. These events are laid out in three divisions,--"The

Christmas Oratorio," "After Epiphany," and "The Passion and

Resurrection;" the separate parts of which are as follows: (1) The

Introduction. (2) Pastoral and Vision of the Angels. (3) Stabat Mater

speciosa. (4) Song of the Shepherds in the Manger. (5) The Anointing of

the three Kings. (6) Hymn of Praise. (7) Pater Noster. (8) The

Establishment or Foundation of the Christian Church. (9) The Storm on the

Lake. (10) The Entry into Jerusalem. (11) Tristis est anima mea. (12)

Stabat Mater dolorosa. (13) Easter Hymn. (14) Resurrection of Christ. The

motive of the work is announced in Saint Paul's words to the Ephesians:

"But speaking the truth in love, may grow up into him in all things,

which is the head, even Christ."

The long instrumental introduction is constructed upon a theme

representative of a text from Isaiah, "Resound, ye Heavens above," many

times repeated, and leading to a pastoral which prepares the way for the

angelic announcement to the shepherds. This announcement is made in the

simple collect music by a soprano solo, and replied to by a female

chorus, first accompanied by string quartet, and then by full orchestra,

and leading to the full chorus, "Gloria in excelsis," a series of mighty

shouts, closing with a stately Hallelujah and a return of the orchestra

to the pastoral movement. The next division is the old Latin hymn,

"Stabat Mater speciosa," the Virgin at the cradle of our Lord,--a

six-part chorus in church style, accompanied by the organ, with solo

variations interspersed through it, and characterized by a lofty feeling

of devotion, especially in the "Inflammatus" and the majestic final

"Amen." The remaining numbers of the first part are entirely

instrumental, including the "Shepherd's Song at the Manger," a pastoral

full of beautiful effects, and "the Three Holy Kings," a march which is

majestic in its style and broad in its rhythm, and full of characteristic

color. The two numbers close the part in a brilliant and jubilant manner.

The second part opens with the "Seligkeiten" ("Hymn of Praise"), a grand

declamatory solo for baritone, accompanied by a six-part chorus, which,

like the next number, was written by Liszt in his younger days and

utilized in its present setting. The hymn is accompanied by organ

throughout, and is followed by the "Pater Noster," also with organ,--a

fervent, almost passionate, offering of prayer by the precentors and

congregation, closing with a mighty "Amen." In the next number--the

founding of the Church ("Tu es Petrus"), beginning with male chorus--the

orchestra resumes its work. The voices move on in stately manner until

the words, "Simon, son of Jona, lovest thou me?" are reached, when the

full chorus comes in with imposing effect. Of this number, Nohl says in

his fine analysis of "Christus:"--

"The perishable, sinful world in all its aspects is here contrasted

with an undoubting faith in an everlastingly constant higher ideal, to

give it this name. That it is the spirit of the subject, not its mere

perishable husk, is shown by the nature of the melody, which rises to

the most powerful expression of the final victory of this spirit of

love. Now again the full orchestra joins the double chorus; for the

world, the whole world, is meant."

The next scene, entitled "The Wonder," is purely instrumental, and is a

marvellous picture of the storm upon the lake, which Nohl also

characterizes with reference to its inner meanings:--

"The ninth scene is a marvel. 'The storms rage in contention,'--not the

storms of the sea, but the storm of desires to which the weak of faith

are exposed. It is not the outward marvel or superstition that is to be

strengthened, but the faith of human nature in itself and its higher

power and destiny. Hence the actual inner tranquillity when, after the

raging orchestral tumult, 'a great stillness' succeeds Christ's words,

which is ingeniously introduced with the motive of the 'Seligkeit,'

because such inner purity alone bestows upon mankind effective power

over the savage forces of the world."

"The Entrance into Jerusalem," a graphic instrumental prelude, introduces

a "Hosanna" for full chorus, followed by a "Benedictus" for mezzo-soprano

with chorus,--a splendidly constructed number, which closes the second

part in a style full of beauty and majesty.

The third part opens with the sorrowful scene, "Tristis est anima mea,"

Christ's sad words in the walk to Gethsemane,--an unutterably pathetic

solo, with an accompaniment which is a marvel of expressive

instrumentation. The next number is the old Middle-Age hymn, "Stabat

Mater dolorosa," in which Liszt has combined voices and instruments in a

manner, particularly in the "Inflammatus," almost overpowering. Solos,

duets, quartets, choruses, orchestra, and organ are all handled with

consummate skill. It has been aptly characterized as having the

dimensions of the "Last Judgment" in the Sistine Chapel. After the great

hymn is ended, another begins. It is the old Easter song, "O Filii et

Filiae," written to be sung by boys with harmonium,--a joyous, sunny

chorus, dispersing the gloom of the "Stabat Mater." The last scene, "The

Resurrection," is a powerful and massive chorus, full of mighty accords,

typical of the final triumph of Christianity, and closing with a majestic

"Amen" built up on the opening motive of the original introduction. "It

is," says Nohl, "a cycle of scenes such as only the victorious mastery of

the subject by inward perception can give, and such as only the artist

can draw who dominates all the conditions apart like a king, and has

reconciled his soul with the absolute truth and power of the Eternal."

MACFARREN.

George Alexander Macfarren, one of the most prominent of modern English

composers, was born in London, March 2, 1813. He began the study of music

in 1827 under the tuition of Charles Lucas. Two year's later he entered

the Royal Academy of Music, and in 1834 became one of its professors. The

latter year dates the beginning of his career as a composer, his first

work having been a symphony in F minor. During the next thirty years his

important works were as follows: overture "Chevy Chase" (1836); "Devil's

Opera," produced at the Lyceum (1838); "Emblematical Tribute on the

Queen's Marriage" and an arrangement of Purcell's "Dido and AEneas"

(1840); editions of "Belshazzar," "Judas Maccabaeus," and "Jephthah," for

the Handel Society (1843); opera "Don Quixote" (1846); opera "Charles

II." (1849); serenata "The Sleeper Awakened," and the cantata "Lenora"

(1851); the cantata "May Day," for the Bradford Festival (1856); the

cantata "Christmas" (1859); the opera "Robin Hood" (1860); the masque

"Freya's Gift" and opera "Jessy Lea" (1863); and the operas "She Stoops

to Conquer," "The Soldier's Legacy," and "Helvellyn" (1864). About the

last year his sight, which had been impaired for many years, failed. His

blindness did not however diminish his activity. He still served as

professor in the Royal Academy, and dictated compositions,--indeed some

of his best works were composed during this time of affliction. In 1873

appeared his oratorio, "St. John the Baptist," which met with an

enthusiastic reception at the Bristol Festival of that year. In 1875 he

was elected professor of music at Cambridge, to fill the vacancy

occasioned by the death of Sterndale Bennett, and in the same year was

also appointed principal of the Royal Academy of Music. In 1876 his

oratorio "The Resurrection" was performed at the Birmingham Festival, and

in 1877 the oratorio "Joseph" at Leeds, besides the cantata "The Lady of

the Lake" at Glasgow. Grove catalogues his other compositions as follows:

a cathedral service, anthems, chants, psalm-tunes, and introits for the

Holy Days and Seasons of the English Church (1866); "Songs in a

Cornfield" (1868); "Shakspeare Songs for Four Voices" (1860-64); songs

from Lane's "Arabian Nights," and Kingsley's and Tennyson's poems;

overtures to "The Merchant of Venice," "Romeo and Juliet," "Hamlet," and

"Don Carlos;" symphonies, string quartets, and a quintet; a concerto for

violin and orchestra; and sonatas for pianoforte alone, and in

combination with other instruments. As lecturer, writer, and critic, Sir

George Macfarren also holds a high place, among his important works being

"Rudiments of Harmony" (1860), and six Lectures on Harmony (1867); also

Analyses of Oratorios for the Sacred Harmonic Society (1853-57), and of

orchestral works for the Philharmonic Society (1869-71), besides numerous

articles in the musical dictionaries.

St. John the Baptist.

The oratorio "St. John the Baptist" was first produced at the Bristol

Musical Festival in 1873. The libretto was written by Dr. E. G. Monk, and

is divided into two parts,--the first styled "The Desert," and the second

"Machaerus," to correspond with the localities where the action is

supposed to take place. The incidents described are John's preaching to

the people, the baptism of Christ, and the events which begin with

Herod's feast and close with the execution of the Prophet. One of the

best of the English critics, speaking of the libretto, says:--

"John is thus shown in his threefold capacity, as the herald of the

Kingdom of Heaven, as the uncompromising champion of righteousness, and

as the witness of truth even unto death. Nothing could be more simple

or more definite than this, and the discreetness it evinces is shown

also by the manner in which the characters are treated. John, of

course, is the central figure. He stands out clothed with all the noble

attributes accredited to him in the Bible,--'stern and inflexible in

his teaching, yet bowing before him whose message he had to

promulgate.' A halo of grandeur surrounds the ascetic of the desert as

he hurls anathemas upon the corruptors of Israel; or as, in the true

spirit of the ancient prophets of his race, he rebukes Herod under the

roof of that monarch's palace. No greater hero could a musician wish

for as a source of inspiration, or as a means of exciting interest.

Next to John stands the weak and voluptuous King,--a contrast as marked

in character as in outward circumstance. The impulsive temperament of

Herod is well brought out. One instant he resents John's boldness, and

significantly exclaims, 'If I command to kill, they kill;' the next he

trembles before his rebuker, and promises to amend his life. The

rashness of the fatal vow to Salome, and the bitter but unavailing

repentance to which it led, are also put well forward, while in matters

of detail extreme care is taken to make the contrast of Prophet and

King as great as circumstances permit. The part of Salome, who is the

only other dramatic person, contains no more amplification of the Bible

narrative than was exacted by the necessities of musical treatment. In

structure, the libretto is partly dramatic, partly narrational, the

dramatic form being employed in all the chief scenes; and as little use

is made of 'Greek chorus,' the story marches without the halting

rendered necessary by efforts to 'improve' its incidents as they

arise."

The overture, which is very dramatic in character, is followed by a

powerful fugued chorus ("Behold! I will send My Messenger"), a part of

which is set to organ accompaniment. The Narrator (contralto) recites the

coming of the Prophet, in the orchestral prelude to which is a phrase

borrowed from an old church melody which Mendelssohn also used in his

Reformation Symphony, and which serves throughout the work as the motive

for the Prophet, in the genuine Wagner style. Saint John is introduced in

a rugged and massive baritone solo ("Repent ye, the Kingdom of Heaven is

at hand"), accompanied by very descriptive instrumentation. A dramatic

scene ensues, composed of inquiries as to the Prophet's mission by the

People, a short chorus by the latter ("What shall we do then?") which is

very melodic in style, and the resumption of the dialogue form, set to a

very skilful accompaniment. This scene is followed by a characteristic

aria for the Prophet, "I indeed baptize you with Water." The story is

once more taken up by the Narrator, who describes the baptism of Christ.

The words, "This is My Beloved Son," are given to a female choir, with

exquisite accompaniment by the violins and harps. A song for the Narrator

("In the Beginning was the Word") follows, and leads to the chorus, which

closes the first part, the words taken from the first verse of Psalm

civ., and the melody borrowed from the familiar old tune "Hanover," which

the composer has worked up with great skill and effect.

The second part opens in Herod's palace with the rebuke of the Monarch by

the Prophet. In this scene, as well as in others, the composer draws a

strong contrast in the music assigned to the two, the one being strong

and stern, the other sensuous, in style. In the duet, where Herod

confesses the error of his ways, the voices unite in a genuine religious

strain. The Narrator is once more introduced, and describes the feast

given by the Monarch to the Galilee estates, followed by a jubilant

chorus of Nobles ("O King, live forever!"), set to a brilliant

accompaniment, calling for the most ample orchestral resources. The next

number is a chorus for male voices ("Lo! the Daughter of Herodias cometh

in, she danceth!"), set to a dance rhythm with tambourines, the themes

being bits of Oriental melodies skilfully treated. We then have the

banquet-scene, the admiration of the Nobles for Salome's beauty, Herod's

oath, and Salome's joy expressed in a showy song ("I rejoice in my

youth"). Then follows the dramatic scene of Salome's request,--a

concerted number of great force in its treatment. Herod sings a mournful

aria ("Alas! my Daughter, thou hast brought us very low"). The Narrator

explains how the King was compelled to keep his word, and is followed by

the Nobles in a stirring chorus ("Lo! the Wrath of the King is as a

Messenger of Death"). The scene now changes to the dungeon, where the

Prophet sings his farewell song ("A Man can receive nothing"),

accompanied by orchestra and organ. The final tragedy is told by the

Narrator, and the work closes with two reflective numbers,--the beautiful

unaccompanied quartet, "Blessed are they which are persecuted," and the

chorus, "What went ye out into the Wilderness for to see?" The

above-mentioned critic, who was present at its first performance, says of

the work:--

"It is a strange thing that John the Baptist has not often attracted

the notice of musical composers in search of a subject. No more

remarkable personage, with one great exception, figures in Bible

history than he whom the Master described as 'more than a prophet.' His

striking appearance, stern asceticism, wrathful denunciation of

'wickedness in high places,' and tragic fate,--not to speak of his

relation to One whose shoes he professed himself unworthy to

loose,--throw his form into bold relief, and mark him as of heroic

proportions. Yet, save that he holds a subordinate place in a very

limited number of works, among which is Sir Julius Benedict's 'St.

Peter,' the great forerunner has been passed over till now. At length,

however, in that 'fulness of time' which ever brings forth the best

results, the Man and his Life have found a musical illustrator. There

is now an oratorio of 'John the Baptist,'--a work worthy its theme, and

to which the stamp of enthusiastic approval has been affixed by the

unanimous verdict of an audience competent to judge."

MACKENZIE.

Alexander C. Mackenzie, one of the very few successful Scotch composers,

was born at Edinburgh in 1847. His father was a musician; and recognizing

his son's talent, sent him to Germany at the age of ten. He began his

studies with Ulrich Eduard Stein at Schwartzburg-Sonderhausen, and four

years later entered the ducal orchestra as violinist. He remained there

until 1862, when he went to England to study the violin with M. Sainton.

In the same year he was elected king's scholar of the Royal Academy of

Music. Three years later he returned to Edinburgh and established himself

as a piano-teacher. The main work of his life, however, has been

composition, and to this he has devoted himself with assiduity and

remarkable success. Grove catalogues among his works: "Cervantes, an

overture for orchestra;" a scherzo for ditto; overture to a comedy; a

string quintet and many other pieces in MS.; pianoforte quartet in B, op.

11; Trois Morceaux pour Piano, op. 15; two songs, op. 12; besides songs,

part-songs, anthems, and pieces for the piano. This catalogue, however,

does not include his two most important works,--a Scotch Rhapsody,

introduced into this country by the Theodore Thomas orchestra, a

composition of great merit, and the oratorio, "The Rose of Sharon," which

has been received with extraordinary favor wherever it has been

performed.

The Rose of Sharon.

"The Rose of Sharon," a dramatic oratorio founded on the Song of Solomon,

the words selected from the Scriptures and arranged by Joseph Bennett,

was first brought out at the Norwich Festival, England, Oct. 16, 1884,

under the direction of the composer, and was subsequently performed in

London by the Sacred Harmonic Society. Its first performance in Scotland

took place at Glasgow, Dec. 8, 1885, under the auspices of the Glasgow

Choral Union, Madame Albani, Miss Hilda Wilson, Mr. Edward Lloyd, and Mr.

Watkins Mills being the principal vocalists. One notice of this

performance says: "The enthusiastic reception of the work on this

occasion was beyond all description; the composer was recalled after each

part with cheers that must have made his heart leap with delight." At the

first performance at Norwich he was showered with flowers by the chorus,

while the whole audience rose and greeted him with prolonged cheering. In

speaking of the text, its compiler says:--

"In adopting for the purposes of this oratorio a reading of the 'Song

of Songs' upon which Ewald and Renan substantially agree, the compiler

of the libretto favored no controversial opinion. He simply saw in the

ingenious commentaries of the learned Hebraists suggestions for a story

of unconquerable love, capable of expression in the language of the

Bible.

"For the arrangement of incident the compiler is alone responsible. In

some respects it departs widely from the original poem,--which opens,

for example, in Jerusalem,--and gives only in narrative the events that

occupy part one of the oratorio.

"In taking a story from a canonical book of Holy Scripture, the

compiler could not ignore its spiritual significance. He has,

therefore, introduced a prologue suggesting the parabolic character of

the drama, and an epilogue which points its moral."

The characters are the Rose of Sharon, designated throughout the work as

the Sulamite (soprano); a Woman (contralto); the Beloved (tenor); and

Solomon (baritone); the chorus representing Officers of the Court,

Princes, Nobles, Villagers, Elders, and Soldiers. The story, briefly

told, is one of the power of love. The Beloved and Solomon are both in

love with the Sulamite, and the king tears her from the former to be the

favorite among the women of the harem. Amid all the splendors of the

palace and the luxuries heaped upon her by her passionate admirer she

remains true to the Beloved, is ultimately restored to him, and returns

to the vineyards of Sulam. The work is divided as follows: Prologue; Part

I. Separation; II. Temptation; III. Victory; IV. Reunion; V. Epilogue.

The motto of the oratorio is "Love is strong as death, and unconquerable

as the grave." This motto has its musical theme as well as each of the

three principal characters, and they are invariably used with great skill

and effect. The Woman acts the part of Narrator, and after a brief

orchestral prelude she is heard declaring the meaning and spiritual

significance of the story in the prologue:

"We will open our mouth in a parable;

We will utter dark sayings of old,

Which we have heard and known,

Which our fathers have told us;

We will not hide them from our children,

That the generation to come may know them,

Who shall declare them to their children.

This is a great mystery; but we speak concerning Christ and his

Church."

The oratorio opens in the vineyard of Sulam as the Vine-dressers come

forth to their labor. The orchestral part begins with the melody of the

Vineyard Song ("We will take the Foxes"), and serves to introduce their

chorus, a joyous pastoral ("Come, let us go forth into the Field"). As

they disappear, the voice of the Beloved is heard singing a tender and

passionate appeal beneath the Sulamite's lattice ("Rise up, rise up, my

Love") as he urges her to join him, "For lo! the winter is past; the rain

is over and gone." Her reply follows from within her chamber, full of

love and adoration, and closing with the Vineyard Song ("We will take the

Foxes, the little Foxes that ravage the Vines"). She descends from her

chamber and joins the Beloved, and their voices unite in a delightful

duet ("Come, Beloved, into the Garden of Nuts"). Once more the chorus of

the Vine-dressers is heard, and at its close, after an intermezzo

descriptive of the joys of a spring morning, the scene changes to

Lebanon. A short alto solo announces the coming of Solomon, and the

pastoral music is followed by a brilliant and stately processional march,

accompanied by chorus ("God save the King!"). Solomon beholds the

Sulamite, and pours forth his admiration in a rapturous song ("Thou art

lovely, O my Friend, as Thirza"). The Princes and Nobles also testify to

their admiration of her beauty. A very dramatic scene ensues, in which

the Beloved and the Sulamite seek to escape "out of the caves of the lion

and from the haunt of the leopard." She is brought back by an elder, and

again Solomon pleads his cause in a passionate declamation ("Unto my

charger in Pharaoh's stud I would compare thee, O my friend"). She

replies, "My Beloved is to me a nosegay of myrrh," and clings to her

lover, who once more seeks to escape with her; whereupon she is seized

and placed in one of the king's chariots, and the cavalcade moves off to

the brilliant strains of the cortege music, accompanied by the chorus.

The second part, "Temptation," introduces us to Solomon's palace, where

the Sulamite is alone, pining for her lover. The scene opens with the

psalm, "The Lord is my Shepherd," set to a simple, charming melody, full

of the spirit of devotion, but entirely disconnected with the general

texture of the work. As the touching strain comes to an end, the Women of

the court enter, insidiously plead the cause of Solomon, tempt her with

his luxuries, and seek to shame her love for the Beloved. "Kings'

daughters shall be among thine honorable women; thy clothing shall be of

wrought gold; thou shalt be brought unto the king in raiment of

needlework, with gladness and rejoicing shalt thou be brought and enter

into the king's palace," sings one of the Women; but the Sulamite remains

loyal, and only answers: "My Beloved pastures his flocks among the

lilies. My Beloved is mine, and I am his." The temptation is interrupted

by the procession of the ark passing in the street below to the glad

acclaim of the people ("Make a joyful Noise unto the Lord, all ye

Lands"), and a brilliant march. Successively the Maidens of Jerusalem

with timbrels, the Elders, the Shepherds and Vine-dressers, the Soldiers,

the Priests bearing the sacred vessels pass by, singing tributes of

praise to the Lord; and as the Levites appear bearing the ark, and

Solomon comes in sight with all his retinue, the entire chorus

triumphantly repeat "God save the King!" The brilliant procession passes

from view. The Women once more appeal to the Sulamite; but she still

loyally declares: "My Beloved pastures his flocks among the lilies; lo!

Solomon in all his glory is not arrayed like one of these."

The third part, "Victory," opens with an orchestral prelude picturing the

sleep of the Sulamite, with her women watching about her. The voice of

the Beloved is heard without the chamber, "Open to me, my Sister, my

Bride." It reaches her in a dream, and in fancy she replies to him,

clothes herself, and searches for him in the streets; but when she

accosts the watchmen, they are so rude that her fright awakes her. She is

still a prisoner in the palace, and the Women about her announce the

coming of Solomon. He pleads his cause in a passionate song ("Ere the Day

cool and the Shadows flee away"); and she replies with another

protestation of her constancy in the solo, "Lo! a Vineyard hath Solomon

at Baal-hamon." The situation, which is very dramatic in its treatment,

is heightened by a duet and by the mocking chorus of Women; but above

them all still sings the brave Sulamite, "My Beloved is mine, and I am

his."

The fourth part brings us back again to the vineyards of Sulam. It opens

with a melancholy chorus of the Vine-dressers ("O Lord, be gracious unto

us"), lamenting her absence. It is followed by a bass solo ("Thus saith

the Lord") and a chorale in full broad harmony. At last the victorious

Sulamite is seen coming up from the valley leaning on the arm of the

Beloved. All join in a powerful and exultant chorus of gratitude and joy

("Sing, O Heavens, and be joyful, O Earth"). A rapturous duet ensues

between the Sulamite and the Beloved, and then all join in the spirited

finale:--

"For the flame of Love is as fire,

Even the fire of God.

Many waters cannot quench it,

Neither can floods drown it.

Yea, Love is strong as death,

And unconquerable as the grave."

MENDELSSOHN.

Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy, the son of a Berlin banker, was born at

Hamburg, Feb. 3, 1809, and, unlike almost all other composers, was reared

in the lap of luxury. Every advantage which wealth could procure he

enjoyed, with the result that he became highly educated in the other arts

as well as in music. His teachers in music were Zelter and Ludwig Berger,

and he made such progress that in his ninth year he appeared in public as

a pianist in Berlin, and afterwards in Paris. The first of his

compositions to attract general notice were the overture to Shakspeare's

"Midsummer Night's Dream" and the little opera "The Marriage of Camacho,"

which were brought out in Berlin in 1827. After several concert tours, in

which he met with great success, he resided for some time in Duesseldorf.

In 1835 he went to Leipsic as director of the famous Gewandhaus

concerts,--which are still given in that city. Two years later he married

Cecile Jeanrenaud, the beautiful daughter of a minister of the Reformed

Church in Frankfort, and shortly afterwards went to Berlin as general

director of church music. In 1843 he returned to his former post in

Leipsic, and also took a position in the newly established Conservatory,

where he spent the remainder of his days in company with his family, to

whom he was closely attached. He has left a large and rich collection of

musical works, which are favorites the world over. His three great

oratorios are the "Hymn of Praise," catalogued as a symphony-cantata,

"St. Paul," and "Elijah." The last is specially interesting, as it marked

a new departure from the conventional forms of oratorio, and gave the

widest scope to the dramatic elements,--to such a degree, in fact, that

it might with propriety be styled a sacred opera. Besides these

oratorios, his exquisite music to the "Midsummer Night's Dream," which is

familiar the world over, and his stately dramatic music to "Antigone," he

has left five symphonies, of which the "Scotch," the "Italian," and the

"Reformation" are best known; four exquisite overtures, "Ruy Blas," "Calm

Sea and Prosperous Voyage," "Hebrides," and "Melusina;" the very dramatic

cantata, "The Walpurgis Night;" a long list of beautiful songs for one or

more voices; the incidental music to Racine's "Athalia;" a very large

collection of sacred music, such as psalms, hymns, anthems, and cantatas;

several beautiful trios and other specimens of chamber-music; and the

lovely "Songs without Words," which are to be found upon almost every

piano, the beauty and freshness of which time has not impaired.

Mendelssohn never wrote a grand opera, owing to his fastidiousness as to

a libretto; though he finally obtained one from Geibel, on the subject of

the "Loreley," which suited him. He had begun to write it, and had

finished the finale to the first act, when death interrupted his work,

Nov. 4, 1847. Mendelssohn was a man of remarkable beauty, and his

character corresponded to his charm of person. He had a liberal

education, was a man of broad culture, a clever artist, and a very

skilful writer, as is shown by his volumes of letters from Italy and

Switzerland. Possessed of these graces of mind and person, and having all

the advantages that wealth could bestow, he lacked those incentives which

in other composers have brought out the deepest, highest, and most

majestic forms of musical expression. His music is a reflex of his life;

grace, elegance, culture, and finish are its characteristics.

St. Paul.

"St. Paul," the first of Mendelssohn's oratorios, was begun in Duesseldorf

and finished in Leipsic in the winter of 1835, the composer being then in

his twenty-sixth year. He first applied to Marx to write the text; but

the invitation was declined, on the ground that the chorales were

unsuited to the period of the narrative. Mendelssohn then consulted with

his friends Fuerst and Schubring, and the libretto as it now stands

represents their joint compilation. Its three principal themes are the

martyrdom of Saint Stephen, the conversion of Saint Paul, and the

apostle's subsequent career. One of the clearest statements of the

general character of the work is that given by Lampadius; he says:--

"The main thought which runs through the whole work is too high and

broad to be linked by the tie of a personal interest to any single man.

It is the glorification of Christianity, with its humility, its joy in

living and dying for the Lord, in contrast with the blind

self-righteousness of Judaism and the mere sensuous morality of the

heathen schools. It is the contrast, or rather the struggle, of the

last two with the former, and the victory of the light and love of the

Gospel,--the light eternal, the love divine. This thought is made

incarnate in the persons of Stephen, Paul, and Barnabas, and it is

concentrated at that point which is really the central point of

interest to the oratorio,--the conversion of Saint Paul."

The work was written upon a commission given by the Cecilien Verein of

Frankfort in 1831; but it was not produced until May 22, 1836, on the

occasion of the Lower Rhine Festival at Duesseldorf. The principal parts

were sung by Madame Fischer-Achten, Mademoiselle Grabau, Herren Schmetzer

and Wersing, the latter artist taking the part of Paul. The second

performance was given at Liverpool, Oct. 3, 1836; and between the two

performances Mendelssohn revised the work and cut out fourteen numbers.

After a long and expressive overture for orchestra and organ, the first

part opens with a strong and exultant chorus ("Lord! Thou alone art

God"). It is massively constructed, and in its middle part runs into a

restless, agitated theme ("The Heathen furiously rage"). It closes,

however, in the same energetic and jubilant manner which characterizes

its opening, and leads directly to a chorale ("To God on High"), set to a

famous old German hymn-book tune, "Allein Gott in der Hoeh' sei Ehr,"

which is serenely beautiful in its clearly flowing harmony. The martyrdom

of Stephen follows. The basses in vigorous recitative accuse him of

blasphemy, and the people break out in an angry chorus ("Now this Man

ceaseth not to utter blasphemous Words"). At its close Stephen sings a

brief but beautiful solo ("Men, Brethren, and Fathers!"); and as the calm

protest dies away, again the full chorus gives vent to a tumultuous shout

of indignation ("Take him away"). A note of warning is heard in the

fervent soprano solo, "Jerusalem, thou that killest the Prophets;" but it

is of no avail. Again the chorus hurls its imprecations more furiously

than before ("Stone him to death"). The tragedy occurs. A few bars of

recitative for tenor, full of pathos, tell the sad story, and then

follows another beautiful chorale of submission ("To Thee, O Lord, I

yield my Spirit"). Saul's participation in the tragedy is barely touched

upon. The lament for Stephen is followed by the chorus, "Happy and blest

are they," which is beautifully melodious in character. Saul now appears,

"breathing out threatenings and slaughter" against the apostles. His

first aria ("Consume them all") is a bass solo which is fiery in its

energy. It is followed by the lovely arioso for alto, "But the Lord is

mindful of His own,"--fitting companion to the equally beautiful "O rest

in the Lord" from "Elijah," and much resembling it in general style. Then

occurs the conversion. The voice from heaven ("Saul, Saul, why

persecutest thou Me?") is represented, as was often done in the

passion-music, by the soprano choir, which gives it peculiar significance

and makes it stand out in striking contrast with the rest of the work. A

forcible orchestral interlude, worked up in a strong crescendo, leads to

the vigorous chorus, "Rise up! arise!" in which the powerful orchestral

climax adds great strength to the vocal part. It is a vigorously

constructed chorus, and is followed by a chorale ("Sleepers, wake! a

Voice is calling"), which still further heightens the effect by its

trumpet notes between the lines. At the close of the imposing harmony the

music grows deeper and more serious in character as Saul breathes out his

prayer, "O God, have Mercy upon me;" and again, after the message of

forgiveness and mercy delivered by Ananias, more joyful and exultant in

the bass solo with chorus ("I praise Thee, O Lord, my God"), Saul

receives his sight, and straightway begins his ministrations. A grand

reflective chorus ("O great is the Depth of the Riches of Wisdom"),

strong and jubilant in character, and rising to a powerful climax, closes

the first part.

The second part opens with the five-part chorus, "The Nations are now the

Lord's,"--a clear fugue, very stately and dignified in its style,

leading, after a tenor and bass duet ("Now all are Ambassadors in the

Name of Christ"), to the beautifully melodious chorus, "How lovely are

the Messengers that preach us the Gospel of Peace," and the equally

beautiful soprano arioso, "I will sing of Thy great Mercies." After the

chorus, "Thus saith the Lord," and a second tumultuous chorus expressive

of rage and scorn ("Is this He who in Jerusalem"), another chorale occurs

("O Thou, the true and only Light"), in which the Church prays for

direction. The tenor recitative announcing the departure of Paul and

Barnabas to the Gentiles, followed by the tenor and bass duet, "For so

hath the Lord Himself commanded," bring us to the scene of the sacrifice

at Lystra, in which the two choruses, "The Gods themselves as Mortals,"

and "O be gracious, ye Immortals," are full of genuine Greek sensuousness

and in striking contrast with the seriousness and majestic character of

the harmony in the Christian chorus ("But our God abideth in Heaven")

which follows. Once more the Jews interfere, in the raging, wrathful

chorus, "This is Jehovah's Temple." In a pathetic tenor aria ("Be thou

faithful unto Death") Paul takes a sorrowful leave of his brethren, and

in response comes an equally tender chorus, "Far be it from thy Path."

Two stately choruses ("See what Love hath the Father," and "Now only unto

Him") close the work.

Hymn of Praise.

The "Lobgesang" ("Hymn of Praise") was written at Leipsic in 1840, the

occasion which gave birth to it being the fourth centennial celebration

of the art of printing. The musical features of the festival were

intrusted to Mendelssohn, the ceremonies occupying two days, June 24 and

25 of the above year. On the evening of the 23d there was a performance

of Lortzing's opera, "Hans Sachs," written for the occasion. On the

morning of the 24th there was a service in the church, followed by the

unveiling of the statue of Guttenberg in the public square, and an

open-air performance of the composer's "Festgesang" for two choirs, with

trombone accompaniment, David conducting one choir, and Mendelssohn the

other. In the afternoon of the 25th the "Hymn of Praise" was given for

the first time in St. Thomas's Church, preceded by Weber's "Jubilee

Overture" and Handel's "Dettingen Te Deum." Lampadius, who was present at

the performance, says:--

"The work called out the greatest enthusiasm, which could hardly be

repressed within bounds even by the fact that the audience were seated

within the walls of a church. After the first duet a subdued whisper of

applause ran through the edifice and betrayed the suppressed delight of

the listeners. On one of the evenings following, a torchlight

procession was made in honor of the great composer. Mendelssohn, who

then lived in Lurgenstein's Garden, appeared at the window, his face

lighted up with joy. 'Gentlemen,' he said in his neat, quiet way, with

a sensible trembling of the voice, 'you know that it is not my manner

to make many words; but I heartily thank you.' A loud 'Hoch!' three

times shouted, was our reply."

Its next performance was at Birmingham, Sept. 23, 1840, Mendelssohn

himself conducting. After this performance it was considerably changed,

and the whole scene of the watchman was added. The idea occurred to him

after a sleepless night, during which, as he informed a friend, the

words, "Will the night soon pass?" incessantly came into his mind.

The title given to the "Hymn of Praise," "a symphony-cantata," was first

suggested by his friend Carl Klingemann, of London, as will be seen by

the following interesting extract from a letter written by Mendelssohn to

him, Nov. 18, 1840:--

"My 'Hymn of Praise' is to be performed the end of this month for the

benefit of old invalided musicians. I am determined, however, that it

shall not be produced in the imperfect form in which, owing to my

illness, it was given in Birmingham; so that makes me work hard. Four

new pieces are to be added, and I have also much improved the three

sets of symphonies, which are now in the hands of the copyist. As an

introduction to the chorus, 'The Night is passed,' I have found far

finer words in the Bible, and admirably adapted to the music. By the

by, you have much to answer for in the admirable title you hit on so

cleverly; for not only have I sent forth the piece into the world as a

symphony-cantata, but I have serious thoughts of resuming the first

'Walpurgis Night' (which has been so long lying by me) under the same

cognomen, and finishing and getting rid of it at last. It is singular

enough that at the very first suggestion of this idea I should have

written to Berlin that I was resolved to compose a symphony with a

chorus. Subsequently I had not courage to begin, because the three

movements were too long for an introduction; and yet I never could

divest myself of the impression that something was wanting in the shape

of an introduction. Now the symphony is to be inserted according to my

original intention, and the piece brought out at once."

The text to the "Hymn of Praise" is not in narrative form, nor has it any

particular dramatic significance. It is what its name indicates,--a

tribute of praise. Lampadius says the composer undertook to show "the

triumph at the creation of light over darkness. With his pious and

believing heart he could easily enter into that theme, and show with

matchless power and skill the closing-in of those ancient foes, and the

victory of light when darkness cowered and ignobly shrank away." The

expression of delight over this victory is very well brought out, not

only in the music, but also in the arrangement of the Scriptural texts,

which begin with exhortations of praise, and appeals to those who have

been in distress and affliction to trust the Lord. The tenor, who may be

regarded as the Narrator, calls upon the Watchman, "What of the night?"

The response comes that the night has passed. In exultation over the

victory, once more the text ascribes praise to the Lord. "All that has

life and breath" sings to His name.

The symphony is in three parts, beginning with a maestoso movement, in

which the trombones at once give out the choral motive, "All that has

life and breath sing to the Lord,"--a favorite theme of Mendelssohn. This

movement, which is strong and energetic in character, is followed by an

allegretto based upon a beautiful melody, and to this in turn succeeds an

adagio religioso rich in harmony. The symphony clearly reflects the

spirit of the cantata, which follows. The opening chorus ("All that has

Life and Breath") is based upon the choral motive, and enunciates the

real hymn of praise. It moves along in a stately manner, and finally

leads without break into a semi-chorus, "Praise thou the Lord, O my

Spirit," a soprano solo with accompaniment of female voices. The tenor in

a long dramatic recitative ("Sing ye Praise, all ye redeemed of the

Lord") urges the faithful to join in praise and extol His goodness, and

the chorus responds, first, the tenors, and then all the parts, in a

beautiful number, "All ye that cried unto the Lord." The next number is

an exquisite duet for soprano and alto with chorus ("I waited for the

Lord"). It is thoroughly devotional in style, and in its general color

and effect reminds one of the arias, "O Rest in the Lord" from "Elijah,"

and "The Lord is mindful of His own" from "St. Paul." This duet is

followed by a sorrowful, almost wailing tenor solo, "The Sorrows of Death

had closed all around me," ending with the piercing, anxious cry in

recitative, "Watchman! will the Night soon pass?" set to a restless,

agitated accompaniment and thrice repeated. Like a flash from a cloud

comes the quick response of the chorus, "The Night is departing," which

forms the climax of the work. The chorus is beautifully constructed, and

very impressive in its effect. At first the full chorus proclaims the

night's departure; it then takes the fugal form on the words, "Therefore

let us cast off the works of darkness," which is most effectively worked

out.

In the finale the male voices are massed on the declaration, "The Night

is departing," and the female voices on the response, "The Day is

approaching;" and after alternating repetitions all close in broad,

flowing harmony. This chorus leads directly to the chorale, "Let all Men

praise the Lord," sung first without accompaniment, and then in unison

with orchestra. Another beautiful duet, "My Song shall alway be Thy

Mercy," this time for soprano and tenor, follows, and prepares the way

for the final fugued chorus, "Ye Nations, offer to the Lord," a massive

number, stately in its proportions and impressive in its effect, and

closing with a fortissimo delivery of the splendid choral motive, "All

that has Life and Breath."

Notwithstanding that the choral part is brief as compared with the "St.

Paul" and "Elijah," there are many critics who are inclined to pronounce

the "Hymn of Praise" Mendelssohn's greatest work. In its combination of

the symphony and the voice parts, the one growing out of the other and

both so intimately connected, it stands almost alone. Some critics have

condemned Mendelssohn for imitating Beethoven's Choral Symphony, though

in that colossal work the chorus is not only subordinate to the symphony,

but is even trifling in length as compared with it, and very inferior in

style. While in Mendelssohn's work the symphony is subordinated to the

choral part, and serves only as an introduction to it, they are yet

conventionally connected; but in Beethoven's work the chorus was the

product of necessity, as the idea could not have been developed without

it. The instruments had gone as far as possible; the voices _must_ speak.

Elijah.

"Elijah," the most admired of all Mendelssohn's compositions, was

finished in 1846. The plan of the work was first considered in 1837, and

was discussed with his friend Klingemann in London. During the next year

he had frequent consultations with another friend, Schubring, as to the

preparation of the book, and many of the passages were selected and

scenes sketched out; but it was not until 1840 that he really began to

put it into shape. We learn by a letter that in 1842 he was still at work

upon the book itself. Two years later he received an invitation to

conduct the Birmingham Festival of 1846; and it was evidently at that

time he decided to prepare the work for that occasion. We learn by

another letter that on the 23d of May, 1846, the entire first part and

six or eight numbers of the second part were sent to London to a Mr.

Bartholomew, who was engaged translating the text into English. That

Mendelssohn himself was pleased with his work is evident from his own

words, written to a friend after he had finished the first part: "I am

jumping about my room for joy. If it only turns out half as good as I

fancy, how pleased I shall be!" By the latter part of July the entire

oratorio was in the hands of Mr. Bartholomew, and on August 18

Mendelssohn himself arrived in London and immediately began the

rehearsals. The work was first performed on the 26th at Birmingham,

coming between Haydn's "Creation" on the 25th, and Handel's "Messiah" on

the 27th, the latter oratorio being followed by Beethoven's Mass in D. A

correspondent who was present writes:--

"How shall I describe what to-day has been in the Music Hall? After

such an intense enjoyment it is a hard task to express one's feelings

in cold words. It was a great day for the festival, a great day for the

performers, a great day for Mendelssohn, a great day for art. Four

da-capos in the first part, four in the second, making eight encores,

and at the close the calling out of the composer,--are significant

facts when one considers that it was the rigid injunction of the

Committee that the public should not testify its approval by applause.

But the enthusiasm would be checked by no rules; when the heart is

full, regulations must stand aside. It was a noble scene, the hall

filled with men, the galleries gay with ladies, like so many

tulip-beds, added to the princely music and their thundering bravas."

Mendelssohn himself on the day after the performance writes to his

brother in Berlin:--

"No work of mine ever went so admirably the first time of execution, or

was received with such enthusiasm by both the musicians and the

audience, as this oratorio. It was quite evident at the first rehearsal

in London that they liked it, and liked to sing and play it; but I own

I was far from anticipating that it would acquire such fresh vigor and

impetus at the performance. Had you only been there! During the whole

two hours and a half that it lasted, the large hall, with its two

thousand people, and the large orchestra were all so fully intent on

the one object in question that not the slightest sound was to be heard

among the whole audience, so that I could sway at pleasure the enormous

orchestra and choir, and also the organ accompaniments. How often I

thought of you during the time! more especially, however, when 'the

sound of abundance of rain' came, and when they sang and played the

final chorus with _furore_, and when, after the close of the first

part, we were obliged to repeat the whole movement. Not less than four

choruses and four airs were encored, and not one single mistake

occurred in the first part; there were some afterwards in the second

part, but even these were but trifling. A young English tenor[6] sang

the last air with such wonderful sweetness that I was obliged to

collect all my energies, not to be affected, and to continue beating

time steadily."

Notwithstanding his delight with the performance, he was not satisfied

with the oratorio as a whole. He made numerous changes and re-wrote

portions of the work,--indeed there was scarcely a movement that was not

retouched. It is interesting to note in this connection that the

beautiful trio, "Lift thine Eyes," was originally a duet, and very

different in character. The first performance of the work in London took

place April 16, 1847, when it was given by the Sacred Harmonic Society.

Her Majesty and Prince Albert were in attendance; and after the

performance the Prince sent to Mendelssohn the score which he had used in

following the music, with the following tribute written in it:--

To the noble artist who, surrounded by the Baal-worship of corrupted

art, has been able by his genius and science to preserve faithfully,

like another Elijah, the worship of true art, and once more to accustom

our ear, lost in the whirl of an empty play of sounds, to the pure

notes of expressive composition and legitimate harmony; to the great

master who makes us conscious of the unity of his conception through

the whole maze of his creation, from the soft whispering to the mighty

raging of the elements.

Written in token of grateful remembrance by

Albert.

Buckingham Palace, April 24, 1847.

The text was mainly compiled from the First Book of Kings, and was

translated, as has been said, by Mr. Bartholomew. Hiller says that the

idea of the oratorio was first suggested by the verse in the nineteenth

chapter, "Behold, the Lord passed by," and that Mendelssohn, while

reading it, remarked to him, "Would not that be splendid for an

oratorio?" The prominent scenes treated are the drought prophecy, the

raising of the widow's son, the rival sacrifices, the appearance of the

rain in answer to Elijah's appeal, Jezebel's persecution of Elijah, the

sojourn in the desert, his return, his disappearance in the fiery

chariot, and the finale, which reflects upon the meaning of the sacred

narrative. The scenes themselves indicate the dramatic character of the

oratorio. In this respect, indeed, Mendelssohn may almost be said to have

created a new school of oratorio construction. "Elijah" could be placed

upon the stage with scenery, costume, and properties as a sacred opera,

and make a powerful impression,--almost as much so, indeed, as Rossini's

"Moses." Mendelssohn's own testimony on this point is interesting. In a

letter written Nov. 2, 1838, to Pastor Julius Schubring, who was

assisting him in the preparation of the book, he says:--

"I figured to myself Elijah as a grand, mighty prophet, such as we

might again require in our own day,--energetic and zealous, but also

stern, wrathful, and gloomy; a striking contrast to the court myrmidons

and popular rabble,--in fact, in opposition to the whole world, and yet

borne on angel's wings.... I am anxious to do justice to the dramatic

element, and, as you say, no epic narrative must be introduced.... I

would fain see the dramatic element more prominent, as well as more

exuberant and defined,--appeal and rejoinder, question and answer,

sudden interruptions, etc."

Again, on the 6th of December, he writes:--

"In such a character as that of Elijah, like every one in the Old

Testament (except, perhaps, Moses), it appears to me that the dramatic

should predominate, the personages should be introduced as acting and

speaking with fervor,--not, however, for Heaven's sake, to become mere

musical pictures, but inhabitants of a positive, practical world such

as we see in every chapter of the Old Testament; and the contemplative

and pathetic element, which you desire, must be entirely conveyed to

our apprehension by the words and the mood of the acting personages."

The introduction to the oratorio is prefaced by a brief but very

impressive recitative,--Elijah's prophecy of the drought; leading

directly to the overture, a sombre, despairing prelude, picturing the

distress which is to follow as the curse settles down upon the streams

and valleys. At last the suffering is voiced in the opening chorus

("Help, Lord"), which, after three passionate appeals, moves along in

plaintive beauty, developing phrase after phrase of touching appeal, and

leading to a second chorus, with duet for two sopranos ("Lord, bow Thine

Ear to our Prayer"), the choral part of which is an old Jewish chant,

sung alternately by the male and female voices in unison. It is followed

by Obadiah's lovely tenor aria, "If with all your Hearts," full of

tenderness and consolation. Again the People break out into a chorus of

lamentation ("Yet doth the Lord see it not"), which at the close develops

into a chorale of graceful and serene beauty ("For He the Lord our God").

Then follows the voice of an Angel summoning Elijah to the brook of

Cherith, leading to the beautiful double quartet, "For He shall give His

Angels Charge over thee," the melody of which is simple, but full of

animation, and worked up with a skilful effect. Again the Angel summons

Elijah to go to the Widow's house at Zarephath. The dramatic scene of the

raising of her son ensues, comprising a passionate song by the mother

("What have I to do with thee?") and the noble declaration of the

prophet, "Give me thy Son," and closing with the reflective chorus,

"Blessed are the Men who fear Him."