In the next scene we have the appearance of Elijah before Ahab, and the

challenge of the Priests of Baal to the sacrifice on Mount Carmel, set

forth in vigorous recitative, accompanied by short choral outbursts. At

the words of Elijah, "Invoke your forest gods and mountain deities," the

Priests of Baal break out into the stirring double-chorus, "Baal, we cry

to thee," which is fairly sensual and heathenish in its rugged, abrupt

melodies, as compared with the Christian music. At its close Elijah bids

them "call him louder, for he is a god; he talketh, or he is pursuing."

Again they break out into a chorus of barbaric energy ("Hear our Cry, O

Baal"), in the intervals of which Elijah taunts them again and again with

the appeal, "Call him louder." The Priests renew their shouts, each time

with increasing force, "pausing in vain for the reply, and closing with a

rapid, almost angry expostulation ("Hear and answer"). Then follows the

calm, dignified prayer of the prophet ("Lord God of Abraham"), succeeded

by a simple, but beautiful chorale ("Cast thy Burden upon the Lord"). It

is the moment of quiet before the storm which is to come. He calls for

the fire to descend upon the altar, and a chorus of passionate energy

replies, "The Fire descends from Heaven," accompanied by imitative music,

and closing with a brief movement in broad harmony. In fierce recitative

Elijah dooms the Priests of Baal to destruction, and after a short choral

reply sings the bass aria, "Is not His Word like a Fire?"--a song of

extraordinary difficulty, and requiring a voice of exceptional accuracy

and power for its proper performance. A lovely arioso for alto ("Woe unto

them") follows Elijah's vigorous declamation. These two arias are

connecting links between the fire chorus and the rain scene which ensues.

Obadiah summons Elijah to help the People, and Elijah replies in an

exquisite little andante passage, repeated by the chorus ("Open the

Heavens and send us Relief"). Then follows a dialogue-passage between the

prophet, the People, and the Youth, whom he bids "look toward the

sea,"--the most striking features of which are the responses of the Youth

and the orchestral climax as the heavens grow black and "the storm rushes

louder and louder." As the deluge of rain descends, the thankful People

break out into a passionate shout of delight ("Thanks be to God"), heard

above the tempest in the orchestra. At first it is a brief expression of

gratitude. The voices come to a pause, and Elijah repeats the tribute of

praise. Then all join in a surging tumult of harmony, as fresh and

delightful as was the pouring rain to the thirsty land, voices and

instruments vying with each other in joyful acclamations, until the end

is reached and the first part closes.

The second part opens with a brilliant soprano solo ("Hear ye, Israel"),

beginning with a note of warning, and then with trumpet obligato

developing into another melody of an impetuous and animated description

("I, I am He that comforteth"). The solo leads to the magnificent chorus,

"Be not afraid," in which, after a short pause, the entire force of

voices, orchestra, and organ join in the sublime strain, sweeping on in

broad, full harmony. There is a pause of the voices for two bars, then

they move on in a strong fugue ("Though Thousands languish and fall"). At

its close they are all merged again in the grand announcement, "Be not

afraid," delivered with impetuosity, and ending with the same subject in

powerful chorale form. The scene which follows is intensely dramatic. The

prophet rebukes Ahab and condemns the Baal worship. Jezebel fiercely

accuses Elijah of conspiring against Israel, and the People in sharp,

impetuous phrases declare, "He shall perish," leading to the chorus, "Woe

to him!" After a few bars for the instruments, Obadiah, in an exquisite

recitative, counsels him to fly to the wilderness. In the next scene we

behold Elijah alone, and in a feeble but infinitely tender plaint he

resigns himself. It is hard to conceive anything grander and yet more

pathetic than this aria, "It is enough," in which the prophet prays for

death. A few bars of tenor recitative tell us that, wearied out, he has

fallen asleep ("See, now he sleepeth beneath a juniper-tree in the

wilderness, and there the angels of the Lord encamp round about all them

that fear Him"). It introduces the trio of the Angels, "Lift thine Eyes

to the Mountains," sung without accompaniment,--one of the purest,

loveliest, and most delightful of all vocal trios. An exquisite chorus

("He watching over Israel") follows, in which the second theme,

introduced by the tenors ("Shouldst thou, walking in Grief"), is full of

tender beauty; the trio and chorus are the perfection of dream-music. At

its close the Angel awakes Elijah, and once more we hear his pathetic

complaint, "O Lord, I have labored in vain; oh, that I now might die!" In

response comes an aria of celestial beauty, sung by the Angel ("Oh, rest

in the Lord"), breathing the very spirit of heavenly peace and

consolation,--an aria of almost matchless purity, beauty, and grace.

Firmly and with a certain sort of majestic severity follows the chorus,

"He that shall endure to the end." The next scene is one of the most

impressive and dramatic in the oratorio. Elijah no longer prays for

death; he longs for the divine presence. He hears the voice of the Angel:

"Arise now, get thee without, stand on the mount before the Lord; for

there His glory will appear and shine on thee. Thy face must be veiled,

for He draweth near." With great and sudden strength the chorus

announces: "Behold! God the Lord passed by." With equal suddenness it

drops to a pianissimo, gradually worked up in a crescendo movement, and

we hear the winds "rending the mountains around;" but once more in

pianissimo it tells us "the Lord was not in the tempest." The earthquake

and the fire pass by, each treated in a similar manner; but the Lord was

not in those elements. Then, in gentle tones of ineffable sweetness, it

declares, "After the fire there came a still, small voice, ... and in

that still, small voice onward came the Lord;" and onward sings the

chorus in low, sweet, ravishing tones to the end: "The Seraphim above Him

cried one to the other, Holy, holy, holy, is God the Lord!"--a double

chorus of majestic proportions. Once more Elijah goes on his way, no

longer dejected, but clothed with "the strength of the Lord." His aria,

"For the Mountains shall depart," prepares us for the final climax. In

strong accents the chorus announce, "Then did Elijah the prophet break

forth like a fire;" his words were like "burning torches;" he overthrew

kings; he stood on Sinai and heard the vengeance of the future on Horeb.

Then comes a significant pause. The basses begin, "And when the Lord

would take him away;" another brief pause, and the full chorus pictures

in vivid color the coming of the fiery chariot and the whirlwind by which

he was caught up into heaven. The picturesqueness and dramatic intensity

of this splendid chorus can hardly be described in words. One more tenor

aria ("Then, then shall the Righteous shine") and a brief soprano solo

introduce the chorus, "Behold My servant." A beautiful quartet ("Oh!

come, every one that thirsteth") follows, and the massive fugue, "And

then shall your Light break forth as the Light of the Morning," closes

this great masterpiece.

[6] Mr. Lockey was the tenor on this occasion; the part of Elijah was

sung by Standigl.

Christus.

"Christus," which Mendelssohn intended as the third in the series with

"Elijah" and "St. Paul," was left unfinished. The words were written by

the Chevalier Bunsen and given to the composer in 1844, before he began

"Elijah." With his customary fastidiousness, he altered and rearranged

the text, and it was not until 1847, after "Elijah" was finished, that he

touched the music. At this time he was in delicate health, and had not

recovered from the shock of his sister's death. He sought consolation for

his troubles and relief for his ailments among the mountains of

Switzerland. Part of his time was devoted to mountain-rambling, and the

remainder to work upon "Christus" and the opera "Loreley," neither of

which he lived to finish.

It is interesting to note in this connection that before Mendelssohn

settled upon "Christus," the subject of Saint Peter occupied his

attention, although he still had the former in view for later

consideration. In a letter to his friend Schubring, written at

Bingen-on-the-Rhine, July 14, 1837, he says:--

"I wish to ask your advice in a matter which is of importance to me,

and I feel it will therefore not be indifferent to you either, having

received so many proofs to the contrary from you. It concerns the

selection of a subject of an oratorio which I intend to begin next

winter. I am most anxious to have your counsels, as the best

suggestions and contributions for the text of my 'St. Paul' came from

you. Many very apparent reasons are in favor of choosing St. Peter as

the subject,--I mean its being intended for the Duesseldorf Musical

Festival at Whitsuntide, and the prominent position the feast of Whit

Sunday would occupy in this subject. In addition to these grounds, I

may add my wish (in connection with a greater plan for a later

oratorio) to bring the two chief apostles and pillars of the Christian

Church side by side in oratorios,--in short, that I should have a 'St.

Peter' as well as a 'St. Paul.'"

Another extract from the same letter will show the keenness with which he

analyzed his themes. He writes:--

"I need not tell you that there are sufficient internal grounds to make

me prize the subject; and far above all else stands the outpouring of

the Holy Ghost, which must form the central point or chief object. The

question, therefore, is whether the place that Peter assumes in the

Bible, divested of the dignity which he enjoys in the Catholic or

Protestant Churches as a martyr, or the first Pope, etc.,--whether what

is said of him in the Bible is alone and in itself sufficiently

important to form the basis of a symbolical oratorio. For, according to

my feeling, the subject must not be treated historically, however

indispensable this was in the case of 'St. Paul.' In historic handling,

Christ must appear in the earlier part of St. Peter's career; and where

he appears, St. Peter could not lay claim to the chief interest. I

think, therefore, it must be symbolical; though all the historical

points might probably be introduced,--the betrayal and repentance, the

keys of Heaven given him by Christ, his preaching at Pentecost,--not in

an historical, but prophetic light, if I may so express myself, in

close connection."

The project was never carried out; but the deep earnestness with which

Mendelssohn considered it shows how thoughtfully he must have devoted

himself to the scheme which took its place. Neither his letters nor his

biographers throw much light upon the history of "Christus." Lampadius

says: "The oratorio was laid out upon a grand scale. It was to be in

three parts,--the career on earth, the descent into hell, the ascent to

heaven." This plan must have been subsequently changed, for the fragments

of the oratorio are included in two parts, though they entirely pertain

to the earthly career. There are in all eight complete numbers,--three

from the first part, and five from the second. The first part opens with

a soprano recitative ("When Jesus our Lord was born in Bethlehem"),

leading to a strong trio for tenor and two basses ("Say, where is he

born?"), the question of the Wise Men from the East. The chorus replies,

"Then shall a Star from Jacob come forth," closing with the old German

chorale, "Wie schoen leuchtet der Morgenstern" ("How brightly shines the

Morning Star!"), in plain, flowing harmony.

The fragments of the second part are in the form of the passion-music,

and include five tenor recitatives, narrating the dialogue between

Pilate, the Elders and the People, and his final order, "Take ye him and

crucify him, for I cannot find a fault in him," and several short, angry

choruses of the Jews, accusing Jesus and calling for his death, leading

to a beautiful chorus for mixed voices ("Daughters of Zion, weep"), and

closing with an effective chorale for male voices in the genuine Bach

style:--

"He leaves his heavenly portals,

Endures the grief of mortals,

To raise our fallen race.

O love beyond expressing!

He gains for us a blessing,

He saves us by redeeming grace.

"When thou, O sun, art shrouded,

By night or tempest clouded,

Thy rays no longer dart;

Though earth be dark and dreary,

If, Jesus, thou art near me,

'Tis cloudless day within my heart."

MOZART.

Johann Chrysostomus Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, one of the most remarkable

musical geniuses the world has produced, and the only one of his

contemporaries whose operas still hold the stage with unimpaired

freshness, was born at Salzburg, Jan. 27, 1756. He was the son of Leopold

Mozart, the Salzburgian Vice-Capellmeister, who gave him and his sister

Nannerl their earliest instructions in music, and with such good results

that the children travelled and gave concerts with great success. Before

he was seven years of age, he had composed several pieces for piano and

violin, his earliest having been written at the age of five! At twelve he

became court capellmeister in Salzburg. After his musical travels he went

to Vienna, and there began his real period of classic activity, which

commenced with "Idomeneus," reached its culmination in "Don Giovanni,"

and closed with the "Requiem,"--the "swan-song" of his wonderful life. In

his brief life Mozart composed more than fifty great works, besides

hundreds of minor ones in every possible form of musical writing. His

greatest compositions may be classed in the following order: "Idomeneus"

(1780); "Entfuehrung aus dem Serail" (1781); "Figaro's Hochzeit" ("The

Marriage of Figaro"), (1785); "Don Giovanni" (1787); "Cosi fan tutti,"

"Zauberfloete" ("The Magic Flute"), and "Titus" (1790); and the "Requiem"

(1791, the year of his death). The catalogue of Mozart's works is an

immense one, for his period of productivity was unusually long. From the

age of five to his death, there was not a year that was not crowded with

his music. Besides his numerous operas, of which only the more famous are

given above, he wrote a large number of symphonies (of which the

"Jupiter" is now the best known), sonatas, concertos for all kinds of

instruments, even to musical-glasses, trios, quartets, quintets, and

sextets for all possible combinations of instruments, marches, fugues,

masses, hymns, arias of extraordinary brilliancy,--many of them written

for his sister-in-law, Aloysia Weber, to whom at one time he was

engaged,--liturgies, cantatas, songs, and ballads, and indeed every form

of music that is now known. His style was studied by Beethoven, and so

closely imitated that the music of his first period, if published without

autograph, would readily be attributed to Mozart. His style was so

spontaneous and so characteristic that it has been well said there is but

one Mozart. The distinguishing trait of his music is its rich melodic

beauty and its almost ravishing sweetness. His melody pours along in a

bright, unbroken stream that sometimes even overflows its banks, so

abundant is it. It is peculiarly the music of youth and spring-time,

exquisite in form, graceful in technique, and delightful in expression.

It was the source where all his immediate successors went for their

inspiration, though it lacked the maturity, majesty, and emotional depths

which were reached by such a Titan as Beethoven. Old as it is, and

antiquated in form, especially as compared with the work of the new

schools, its perennial freshness, grace, and beauty have made it

immortal.

The Requiem.

Mozart's "Requiem" was written in Vienna in 1791 and was left in an

unfinished state by the composer, who made suggestions and gave

instructions as to its completion even upon his death-bed; it was

literally his swan-song. No work by any composer has given rise to more

romantic stories or more bitter discussion. It was long the popular

belief that the "Requiem" was commissioned by a dark, mysterious

stranger, whose appearance impressed Mozart with the conviction that he

was a messenger of death; more than this, that he himself had been

poisoned, and that he was writing his own death-song, upon the order of

some supernatural power. There was some foundation for the belief, as the

commission was given in a very mysterious manner, and Mozart's health at

that time was so delicate that he had had several premonitions of death.

In his gloomy spirits he even said to his wife that he was writing his

own requiem. The actual circumstances attending the commission, though

they do not bear out the romantic versions of the story-tellers, are yet

of extraordinary interest.

The author of the commission was one Count von Walsegg, living in the

village of Stuppach, whose wife had died early in 1791. He was an amateur

musician of vast ambitions and small accomplishments, and had conceived

the idea of purchasing a requiem anonymously from Mozart and passing it

off as his own work. In pursuance of his scheme he despatched his

steward, named Leutgeb, a tall, solemn, mysterious looking person, with

an anonymous letter to Mozart, who at that time was in absolute poverty,

asking for the music and requesting him to name his own

price,--stipulating, however, that he should make no effort to discover

the identity of his patron. The unsuspicious Mozart accepted the

proposition, after consulting with his wife. He was about to begin work

upon it at once, when he received a commission to write the opera of

"Clemenza de Tito," in honor of the Emperor Leopold's coronation. This

occupied him several weeks, and when it was completed he decided upon a

visit to Baden. At the moment he was about to get into the carriage, the

mysterious stranger again appeared and inquired about the progress of the

"Requiem." Mozart excused himself, and replied that as soon as he

returned he would begin the work; and the stranger went away satisfied.

Mozart came back to Vienna in September; and after the completion of the

"Magic Flute," and its first performance, Nov. 30, 1791, he devoted

himself assiduously to the "Requiem," though it served only to increase

his gloom. One day he remarked to his wife: "I well know that I am

writing this requiem for myself. My own feelings tell me that I shall not

last long. No doubt some one has given me poison; I cannot get rid of the

thought." It is now known that this suspicion was only the result of his

morbid thoughts; but when it was publicly uttered, most unjust

accusations were made against his rival, Salieri, embittering the old

composer's life until its close. As the work progressed, his gloom

increased. "The day before his death," Nohl says, "he desired the score

to be brought to him in bed, and he sang his part, taking the alto voice.

Benedict Shack took the soprano, his brother-in-law, Hofer, the tenor,

and Gerl the bass. They had got through the various parts to the first

bars of the 'Lacrymosa,' when Mozart suddenly burst into tears and laid

aside the score." His sister-in-law has left an account of his last

moments. She writes:

"As I approached his bed, he called to me: 'It is well you are here;

you must stay to-night and see me die.' I tried as far as I was able to

banish this impression; but he replied: 'The taste of death is already

on my tongue, I taste death; and who will be near to support my

Constance if you go away?' Suessmayer [his favorite pupil] was standing

by the bedside, and on the counterpane lay the 'Requiem,' concerning

which Mozart was still speaking and giving directions. He now called

his wife and made her promise to keep his death secret for a time from

every one but Albrechtsberger, that he might thus have an advantage

over other candidates for the vacant office of capellmeister to St.

Stephen's. His desire in this respect was gratified, for

Albrechtsberger received the appointment. As he looked over the pages

of the 'Requiem' for the last time, he said, with tears in his eyes:

'Did I not tell you I was writing this for myself?'"

Mozart's widow, after his death, fearing that she might have to refund

the money advanced for the work, induced Suessmayer, who was thoroughly

familiar with Mozart's ideas, to complete it. He did so, and the copy was

delivered to Count von Walsegg, who did not hesitate to publish it as his

own. Suessmayer, however, had kept a copy, and after completion published

it; and in a letter to the publishers set up a claim to the

instrumentation of the "Requiem," "Kyrie," "Dies Irae," and "Domine," and

to the whole of the "Sanctus," "Benedictus," and "Agnus Dei." The

publication of Suessmayer's letter provoked a controversy which has raged

from that day to this. The ablest critics and musicians in Europe have

taken part in it. Nearly all of them have defended Mozart's authorship;

but after half a century's discussion it still remains in doubt how far

Suessmayer participated in the completion of the work as it now stands.

The bulk of the evidence, however, favors the theory that Suessmayer only

played the part of a skilful copyist, in writing out the figurings which

Mozart had indicated, carrying out ideas which had been suggested to him,

and writing parts from the sketches which the composer had made. One of

the most pertinent suggestions made in the course of this controversy is

that of Rockstro, who says:--

"Some passages, though they may perhaps strengthen Suessmayer's claim to

have filled in certain parts of the instrumentation, stand on a very

different ground to those which concern the composition of whole

movements. The 'Lacrymosa' is quite certainly one of the most beautiful

movements in the whole 'Requiem'--and Mozart is credited with having

only finished the first eight bars of it! Yet it is impossible to study

this movement carefully without arriving at Professor Macfarren's

conclusion that 'the whole was the work of one mind, which mind was

Mozart's.' Suessmayer may have written it out, perhaps; but it must have

been from the recollection of what Mozart had played or sung to him,

for we know that this very movement occupied the dying composer's

attention almost to the last moment of his life. In like manner Mozart

may have left no _Urschriften_ (sketches) of the 'Sanctus,'

'Benedictus,' and 'Agnus Dei,'--though the fact that they have never

been discovered does not prove that they never existed,--and yet he may

have played and sung these movements often enough to have given

Suessmayer a very clear idea of what he intended to write. We must

either believe that he did this, or that Suessmayer was as great a

genius as he; for not one of Mozart's acknowledged masses will bear

comparison with the 'Requiem,' either as a work of art or the

expression of a devout religious feeling. In this respect it stands

almost alone among instrumental masses, which nearly always sacrifice

religious feeling to technical display."

After an introduction, which gives out the subject of the opening

movement,--a slow, mournful, solemn theme,--the first number begins with

the impressive strain, "Requiem aeternam dona eis," which gradually

brightens in the phrase, "Et Lux perpetua," and reaches a splendid burst

of exultation in the "Te decet hymnus," of which Oublichieff, the Russian

critic, says: "One seems to hear the voice of an archangel, and Saint

Cecilia herself with her organ sounding a fugued accompaniment which the

most laborious efforts of mortals never could have power to reach." After

a repetition of the "Requiem aeternam," the number closes with the "Kyrie

eleison," a slow and complicated fugue, which is sublime in its effect,

though very sombre in color, as befits the subject.

The next number is the "Dies Irae," written for chorus in simple

counterpoint, and very dramatic in its character, the orchestral part

being constantly vigorous, impetuous, and agitated, and reaching intense

energy on the verse, "Quantus tremor est futurus," the whole presenting a

vivid picture in tones of the terrors of the last judgment. In the "Tuba

mirum" the spirit of the music changes from the church form to the

secular. It is written for solo voices, ending in a quartet. The bass

begins with the "Tuba mirum," set to a portentous trombone accompaniment;

then follow the tenor ("Mors stupebit"), the alto ("Judex ergo"), and the

soprano ("Quid sum miser"). This number is particularly remarkable for

the manner in which the music is shaded down from the almost supernatural

character of the opening bass solo to the beauty and sweetness of the

soprano solo. From this extraordinary group we pass to the sublime

chorus, "Rex tremendae majestatis," once more in the church style, which

closes with the prayer, "Salva me," in canonical form. With rare skill is

this last appeal of humanity woven out of the thunder-crashes of sound in

the judgment-music.

The "Dies Irae" is followed by the "Recordare," written, like the "Tuba

mirum," as a quartet for solo voices. The vocal parts are in canon form

and are combined with marvellous skill, relieved here and there with

solos in purely melodic style, as in the "Quaerens me," while the

orchestral part is an independent fugue, with several subjects worked up

with every form of instrumental embellishment, the fugue itself sometimes

relieved by plain accompaniment. The whole is an astonishing piece of

contrapuntal skill, apparently inexhaustible in its scientific

combinations, and yet never for an instant losing its deep religious

significance. Once more the orchestral part is full of agitation and even

savage energy in the "Confutatis maledictis," as it accompanies a

powerful double chorus, closing at last in a majestic prayer ("Oro

supplex et acclinis"), in which all the voices join in magnificent

harmony.

The "Lacrymosa" is the most elegant and poetically conceived movement in

the "Requiem." It begins in a delicate, graceful, and even sensuous

manner, which gradually broadens and strengthens, and at last develops

into a crescendo of immense power, reaching its climax on the words

"Judicandus homo reus." Then it changes to a plaintive prayer ("Huic ergo

parce Deus"), and closes in a cloud of gloom in the "Dona eis requiem."

The next number ("Domine Jesu Christe") is in pure church form, beginning

with a motet by chorus in solid harmony, which runs into a fugue on the

words "Ne absorbeat eas Tartarus," followed by a quartet of voices

regularly fugued, leading to another great fugue on the passage, "Quam

olim Abrahae," which closes the number in a burst of sacred inspiration.

The "Domine" is followed by the "Hostias," a lovely choral melody which

leads to the "Sanctus," a sublime piece of harmony closing with a fugued

"Hosanna." The "Benedictus," which follows it, is a solo quartet

plaintive and solemn in character, but full of sweet and rich melodies

magnificently accompanied.

The "Agnus Dei" closes the work, a composition of profound beauty, with

an accompaniment of mournful majesty, developing into a solemn, almost

funereal strain on the words "Dona eis requiem," and closing with the

fugue of the opening "Kyrie" on the words "Lux aeterna." "Written under

the inspiration of death" might well be inscribed on this great monument

of musical skill, this matchless requiem of awful majesty and divine

beauty. In its own unity, its perfection of form and design, its

astonishing skill, from the opening fugue of the "Kyrie" to its

repetition in the finale, may be found the proof that Mozart and no other

wrote the entire score, and that every thought and idea in it are the

inspired work of the dying master.

PAINE.

John K. Paine, one of the very few really eminent American composers, was

born at Portland, Me., Jan. 9, 1839. He studied the piano, organ, and

composition with Kotzschmar in that city, and made his first public

appearance as an organist, June 25, 1857. During the following year he

went to Germany and studied the organ, composition, and instrumentation

with Haupt and other masters in Berlin. He returned to this country in

1861 and gave several concerts, in which he played many of the organ

works of the best writers for the first time in the United States.

Shortly after his return he was appointed instructor of music in Harvard

University, and in 1876 was honored with the elevation to a professorship

and given a regular chair. He is best known as a composer, and several of

his works have been paid the rare compliment of performance in Germany,

among them his Mass in D and all his symphonies. The former was given at

the Berlin Singakademie in 1867, under his own direction. Among his

principal compositions are the oratorio "St. Peter;" the Mass in D; the

Centennial Hymn, set to Whittier's poem and sung at the opening of the

Philadelphia Centennial Exhibition; the overture to "As You Like It;"

"The Tempest," in the style of a symphonic poem; the symphony in C minor

and "Spring" symphony; besides numerous sonatas, fantasies, preludes,

songs, and arrangements for organ and piano. His larger orchestral works

have been made familiar to American audiences by Mr. Theodore Thomas's

band, and have invariably met with success. His style of composition is

large, broad, and dignified, based upon the best classic models, and

evinces a high degree of musical scholarship.

St. Peter.

"St. Peter," Mr. Paine's only oratorio,--and from the highest standpoint

it may be said the only oratorio yet produced in this country,--was

written in 1872-73, and first performed at Portland, Me., in June of the

latter year, under the composer's own direction. The solos were sung by

Mrs. Wetherbee, Miss Adelaide Phillipps, Mr. George L. Osgood, and Mr.

Rudolphsen. It was again produced with great success at the third

Triennial Festival of the Boston Handel and Haydn Society, May 9, 1874,

with Mrs. J. Houston West, Mr. Nelson Varley, Miss Phillipps, and Mr.

Rudolphsen in the principal parts.

The establishment of Christianity, illustrated by the four principal

scenes in the life of St. Peter, forms the subject of the oratorio. It is

divided into two parts, and these are subdivided as follows: Part I. The

Divine Call; The Denial and Repentance. Part II. The Ascension;

Pentecost. The overture, a short adagio movement expressive of the

unsettled spiritual condition of the world prior to the advent of

Christianity, leads directly to the opening chorus, "The Time is

fulfilled," which develops not only this subject, but also a second,

"Repent, and believe the glad Tidings of God," in a masterly manner. The

chorus, written in a very noble style, is followed by the tenor

recitative, which describes the divine call of our Lord to Simon and

Andrew as "He walked by the Sea of Galilee." It prepares the way for a

soprano aria ("The Spirit of the Lord is upon me") which announces the

glad tidings they are commissioned to deliver. Twelve male voices,

representing the Disciples, accept the call in the chorus, "We go before

the Face of the Lord," which is beautifully accompanied by and interwoven

with the full chorus, closing with the smoothly flowing chorale, "How

lovely shines the Morning Star." Then ensues the first dramatic scene. To

the question of the Saviour, "Who do men say that I am," the twelve male

voices first reply, followed by Peter in a few bars of very effective

recitative, "Thou art the Christ." A tenor arioso, declaring the

foundation of the Church "upon this rock," is followed by a noble and

exquisitely chaste bass aria for Peter ("My Heart is glad and my Spirit

rejoiceth"), the scene ending with the powerful chorus, "The Church is

built upon the Foundation of the Apostles and Prophets." The next scene,

"The Denial and Repentance," opens with the warning to Peter that he will

deny his Lord, and his remonstrance, "Though I should die with thee,"

which is repeated by the Apostles. These brief passages are followed by a

very pathetic aria for tenor ("Let not your Heart be troubled") and a

beautifully worked-up quartet and chorus ("Sanctify us through Thy

Truth"). A contralto solo announces the coming of "Judas with a great

multitude," leading Jesus away to the High Priest, and is followed by the

very expressive chorus, "We hid our Faces from him." The scene of the

denial is very dramatic, the alternating accusations of the servants and

the denials of Peter being treated with great skill; it closes with a

very effective contralto recitative, illustrating the sad words: "And

while he yet spake, the cock crew. And the Lord turned, and looked on

Peter; and he remembered the word of the Lord, and he went out and wept

bitterly." An orchestral interlude follows, in the nature of a lament, a

minor adagio full of deep feeling. It is followed by an aria for Peter

("O God, my God, forsake me not"), which is cast in the same strain of

lamentation as the orchestral number which precedes and really introduces

it. At its close a chorus of Angels, sopranos, and altos, with harp

accompaniment ("Remember, remember from whence thou art fallen"), is

heard warning Peter, augmented on the introduction of the second subject

("And he that overcometh shall receive a Crown of Life") by the full

chorus. This chorus is followed by a beautiful aria for alto ("The Lord

is faithful and righteous to forgive our Sins"); and then a massive

chorus, which is fairly majestic ("Awake, thou that sleepest"), closes

the first part.

The second part opens with a chorus ("The Son of Man was delivered into

the Hands of sinful Men"), which tells the story of the crucifixion, not

only with great power, but also with intense pathos, ending with the

chorale, "Jesus my Redeemer lives," which invests the sad narrative with

tender and consolatory feeling. The ascension scene is accompanied by

graceful and expressive recitatives for tenor and bass, followed by a

tenor arioso ("Go ye and teach") and a short soprano recitative ("And he

lifted up his Hands"), leading to the full melodious chorus, "If ye then

be risen." The next number is an impressive soprano solo ("O Man of

God"), in which Peter is admonished "to put on the whole armor of God and

fight the good fight." A beautifully written quartet ("Feed the Flock of

God") closes the scene of the ascension. The last scene opens with a

tenor solo describing the miracle of Pentecost, set to an extremely

vigorous and descriptive accompaniment. It is followed by the chorus,

"The Voice of the Lord," which is one of the most effective in the whole

work, though not constructed in the massive style of those which close

the two parts. A contralto recitative links this chorus to its successor,

"Behold! are not all these who speak Galileans?" After a brief soprano

recitative, Peter has another vigorous solo ("Ye Men of Judaea"), which is

as dramatic in its style and almost as descriptive in its accompaniment

as the opening tenor solo of this scene. A reflective aria for alto ("As

for Man") follows it, and bass and tenor recitatives lead up to the

eagerly questioning chorus of the people, "Men and Brethren." The answer

comes from Peter and the Apostles, "For the Promise is to you." An

intricate chorus ("This is the Witness of God"), closing with a chorale

("Praise to the Father"), leads to the finale, which comprises the

chorus, "Beloved, let us love one another," written for bass solo,

tenors, and basses (the Disciples), and full chorus; an effective duet

for soprano and tenor ("Sing unto God"); and the final majestic chorus

("Great and marvellous are thy Works").

ROSSINI.

Gioachino Antonio Rossini, the father of the modern Italian school of

opera, was born Feb. 29, 1792, at Pesaro, in the Romagna. His father was

an accomplished musician, and his mother a professional singer, so that

he was brought up in a musical atmosphere. Even as a boy he sang with his

mother in the theatre. He first studied with Mattei, and later with

Martini. His first opera, "Demetrio e Polibio," was brought out at Rome

in 1812, and before he had concluded his life-work, more than forty of

his operas had been given in almost every part of Europe,--a crowning

result of labor and contemporaneous fame not often enjoyed by composers.

His "Tancredi," which was produced for the first time at Venice in 1813,

was the opera which made him famous, and its remarkable success spread

his reputation far and wide. In 1815 appeared "L' Italiana in Algeri" and

"Aureliano in Palmira;" in 1816, "Elisabetta," "Otello," and his splendid

work "The Barber of Seville," which, though his masterpiece, is said to

have been written in fourteen days; in 1817, "La Cenerentola," "La Gazza

Ladra," and "Armida;" and in 1819, "Ricciardo e Zoraide," "La Donna del

Lago," and many others. From 1815 to 1822 Rossini was under the

"management" of the _impresario_ Barbaja in Naples, who had much

difficulty in keeping him to the work of composition, his facility in

writing often leading him to defer work until it was the very eve of

performance. In 1823, under the auspices of Barbaja, and with the

assistance of the prima donna, Colbran, whom Rossini married about this

time, his opera "Zelmira" and others of his works were given with such

brilliant success as to raise his aspirations for a wider and more

promising field of labor. In the year 1823 he went to Paris and London,

finally settling in the former city, where he not only began a new grand

opera, but also gave himself to the study and development of orchestral

music and the encouragement of artists. His home was the Mecca of

singers, and, like Liszt's at Weimar, the centre of art influences. The

new work was "William Tell," which was first brought out in Paris in

1829. It was his last important effort. It met with only temporary

success, though it enjoys to-day a reputation almost equal to that of the

"Barber." His most celebrated work in sacred music is the "Stabat Mater,"

which, though written in operatic style and very brilliant in coloring,

has retained its place in popular favor, and is to-day as eagerly sought

for by artists and the public as it was in his own day. Among his other

sacred works is "Moses in Egypt,"--originally written as an oratorio for

the San Carlo in Naples, and brought out there in 1818, though

subsequently recast and provided with a revised libretto for the Paris

Grand Opera in 1827. The "Prayer" from this work has a world-wide

popularity. During the latter years of his life Rossini gave up

composition entirely,--in part because of the eventual failure of his

"William Tell,"--and enjoyed the fruits of his labors at his beautiful

villa in Passy. He died Nov. 14, 1868. His sacred works, besides those

already mentioned, are a few Italian oratorios, now unknown, three

choruses, "Faith, Hope, and Charity," the "Petite Messe Solenelle," a

"Tantum Ergo," a "Quoniam," and an "O Salutaris."

Stabat Mater.

The great Stabat Maters in the musical world are those of Palestrina,

Pergolesi, Haydn, Steffani, Clari, Astorga, Winter, Neukomm, Rossini, and

the one recently written by the Bohemian composer, Dvorak. Of all these

no one has been so popular as that of Rossini, nor made the world so

familiar with the text of the Virgin's Lamentation. After the failure of

"William Tell," Rossini abandoned opera-writing, though he had a contract

with the Grand Opera at Paris for four more works, and contemplated

taking up the subject of Faust. "William Tell" was his last work for the

stage; but before his absolute retirement he was to produce a work

destined to add to his fame. In 1832 his friend Aguado induced him to

compose a "Stabat Mater" for the Spanish minister, Don Valera, which was

not intended to be made public. Before its completion he fell ill, and

Tadolini wrote the last four numbers. The work was dedicated to Valera,

with the understanding that it should always be retained by him. Nine

years afterwards Valera died, and Rossini learned that his heirs had sold

the work to a Paris publisher for two thousand francs. He at once claimed

the copyright and brought an action, in which he was successful. He then

composed four new numbers in place of those written by Tadolini, and sold

the work complete to the publisher, Troupenas, for six thousand francs.

The latter sold the right of performance for a limited time to the

Escudiers for eight thousand francs, and they in turn sold it to the

Theatre Italien for twenty thousand. Its first complete performance was

at the Salle Ventadour, Jan. 7, 1842, Grisi, Albertazzi, Mario, and

Tamburini taking the principal parts.

A brief but brilliant orchestral prelude leads to the opening chorus,

"Stabat Mater dolorosa," arranged for solos and chorus, and very dramatic

in style, especially in its broad, melodious contrasts. It is followed by

the tenor solo, "Cujus Animam," which is familiar to every

concert-goer,--a clear-cut melody free of embellishment, but very

brilliant and even jubilant in character, considering the nature of the

text. The next number ("Quis est Homo"), for two sopranos, is equally

familiar. It is based upon a lovely melody, first given out by the first

soprano, and then by the second, after which the two voices carry the

theme through measure after measure of mere vocal embroidery, closing

with an extremely brilliant cadenza in genuine operatic style. The fourth

number is the bass aria "Pro peccatis," the two themes in which are very

earnest and even serious in character, and come nearer to the church

style than any other parts of the work. It is followed by a beautifully

constructed number ("Eia Mater"), a bass recitative with chorus, which is

very strong in its effect. The sixth number is a lovely quartet ("Sancta

Mater"), full of variety in its treatment, and closing with full, broad

harmony. After a short solo for soprano ("Fac ut Portem"), the climax is

reached in the "Inflammatus,"--a brilliant soprano obligato with powerful

choral accompaniment. The solo number requires a voice of exceptional

range, power, and flexibility; with this condition satisfied, the effect

is intensely dramatic, and particularly fascinating by the manner in

which the solo is set off against the choral background. A beautiful

unaccompanied quartet in broad, plain harmony, "Quando Corpus," leads to

the showy fugued "Amen" which closes the work.

Unquestionably the "Stabat Mater" is one of the most popular of all the

minor sacred compositions; and the secret lies on the surface: it is to

be found in the delightful and fascinating melodies, which are strewn so

thickly through it, as well as in the graceful bravura, which was so

characteristic of Rossini, and which when delivered by accomplished

artists is very captivating to a popular audience. As to its sacred form,

it is as far from the accepted style of church music as Berlioz's or

Verdi's requiems. Indeed, Rossini himself remarked to Hiller that he

wrote it in the "mezzo serio" style. In connection with this matter one

or two criticisms will be of interest. Rossini's biographer, Sutherland

Edwards, says: "The 'Stabat Mater' was composed, as Raphael's Virgins

were painted, for the Roman Catholic Church, which at once accepted it,

without ever suspecting that Rossini's music was not religious." The

remark, however, would be more pertinent were it not for the fact that

the Church itself has not always been a good critic of its own music, or

a good judge of what its music should be, as Liszt discovered when he

went to Rome full of his purposes of reform in the musical service.

Heine, in a letter to the "Allgemeine Zeitung" in 1842, replying to

certain German criticisms, went so far as to say,--

"The true character of Christian art does not reside in thinness and

paleness of the body, but in a certain effervescence of the soul, which

neither the musician nor the painter can appropriate to himself either

by baptism or study; and in this respect I find in the 'Stabat' of

Rossini a more truly Christian character than in the 'Paulus' ['St.

Paul'] of Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy,--an oratorio which the

adversaries of Rossini point to as a model of Christian style."

It will hardly be claimed, however, even by Heine's friends, that this

sweeping statement is either just to Mendelssohn or true of Rossini.

Perhaps they will also concede that Heine was not a very good judge of

Christianity in any of its aspects, musical or otherwise. The veteran

Moscheles in one of his letters criticizes the work very pertinently. He

says,--

"It is, as you may imagine, a model of 'singableness' (if I may say

so); but it is not sufficiently church music to my taste. His solitary

fugue is clumsy. The criticisms on the work are very various. Some

agree with me; but the majority delight in the captivating Italian

phrases, which I admire too, but which I cannot think are in the right

place."

He might have added, "Because they are the phrases of 'Semiramide,'

'Tancredi,' and the 'Barber.'" There is scarcely a number of the "Stabat

Mater" which might not be detached from it and reset in one of Rossini's

operas without doing violence to whatever of the real religious style it

may be supposed, or was intended, to have. The "Stabat Mater" music would

be captivatingly beautiful in any setting.

RUBINSTEIN.

Anton Gregor Rubinstein was born, Nov. 30, 1829, at the village of

Wechwotynetz, in Russia. His parents, who were in moderate circumstances,

moved to Moscow during his infancy, and in that city he received his

first musical instruction. His mother gave him lessons at the age of

four, with the result that by the time he was six she was unable to teach

him anything more. He then studied the piano with Alexander Villoing, a

pupil of John Field. His first composition appeared in his twelfth year,

and soon his songs and two and four hand piano-pieces began to attract

the attention of musicians. In 1840 Villoing took him to Paris and placed

him in the Conservatory, where he attracted the attention of Liszt,

Chopin, and Thalberg. He remained in that city eighteen months, devoting

himself to unremitting study, and then made some professional tours, in

which he met with extraordinary success, particularly in England. From

that country he went to Holland and Sweden, everywhere meeting with an

enthusiastic reception. In 1844 his parents removed to Berlin, and he was

placed under Dehn, the famous contrapuntist, to study composition, his

brother Nicholas being a companion in his work. The father dying in 1846,

the mother and Nicholas returned to Russia, leaving Anton alone. During

the next two years he taught music in Pressburg and Vienna, and in the

latter part of 1848 went back to Russia. About this time he received an

honorary musical appointment from the Grand-Duchess Helene. For eight

years he studied and wrote in St. Petersburg, and at the end of that time

had accumulated a mass of manuscripts destined to make his name famous

all over Europe, while his reputation as a skilful pianist was already

world-wide. He visited England again in 1857, and the next year returned

home and settled in St. Petersburg, about which time he was made Imperial

Concert Director, with a life-pension. At this period in his career he

devoted himself to the cause of music in Russia. His first great work was

the foundation of the Conservatory in the above city in 1862, of which he

remained principal until 1867. He also founded the Russian Musical

Society in 1861, and in 1869 was decorated by the Czar. In 1870 he

directed the Philharmonic and Choral Societies of Vienna, and shortly

afterwards made another tour, during which, in 1872, he came to this

country with the eminent violinist Wieniawsky, as will be well

remembered. His visit here was marked by a succession of ovations. No

other pianist ever achieved such a wonderful success, not only among

musicians, but among the people of all classes. Musicians were astounded

at his remarkable knowledge, while musical and unmusical people alike

were carried off their feet by the whirlwind-style of his playing. It was

full of grace, nobility, breadth, and dignity; but it combined with these

qualities a fire, an intensity, and a passion which sometimes invested

the piano with orchestral effects, and again transformed it into an

instrument that wept, laughed, sang, and danced. His power was

irresistible and electric. As a composer he ranks very high. His greatest

works are the Ocean Symphony, Dramatic Symphony, and a character sketch

for grand orchestra called "Ivan the Terrible;" his operas, "Children of

the Heath," "Feramors," "Nero," "The Maccabees," "Dimitri Donskoi," and

the "Demon;" the oratorios "Paradise Lost" and "Tower of Babel;" and a

long and splendid catalogue of chamber, salon, and concert music, besides

some beautiful songs which are great favorites in the concert-room.

The Tower of Babel.

"The Tower of Babel," a sacred opera, as Rubinstein entitles it, was

written in 1870, the text, which is somewhat of a travesty on sacred

history, by Julius Rodenberg. An English critic very pertinently says:

"One item alone in all the multitude of details crowded by Herr Rodenberg

into his canvas has any foundation in fact. He adopts the theory that

there really was a tower of Babel, and all the rest he founds on

conjecture." In point of fact, the anachronisms are numerous enough to

make the text almost a burlesque. Nimrod, the mighty hunter, is made the

chief builder of the tower, which is supposed to be in process of

erection as an insult to the Deity. Abraham appears upon the scene (many

years before he was born), and rebukes Nimrod for his presumption;

whereupon the hunter-king orders "the shepherd," as he is called, to be

thrown into a fiery furnace, after the manner of Shadrach, Meshach, and

Abednego. The angels watch over the patriarch, and he comes out of the

fire unharmed. Some of the people standing by ascribe the miracle to

Baal, some to Dagon, some to Ashtaroth, and a few to Jehovah, and at last

get into a quarrel with each other. Nimrod interposes his authority, and

orders them to their work on the tower again. Soon the heavens cloud

over, and a storm is seen approaching. Abraham prophesies destruction,

and Nimrod orders him to be seized and hurled from the summit of the

tower; but before his commands can be executed, a thunderbolt strikes it

and crumbles it into a heap of shapeless stones. While Abraham exults

over the destruction, the dispersion of the three races, the Shemites,

Hamites, and Japthides, occurs. Nimrod laments over the result of his

folly, and at last acknowledges the authority of the Divine Power, and

thus the story ends.

The _dramatis personae_ are Nimrod (bass), Abraham (tenor), Master Workman

(baritone), four Angels (boys' voices), the choruses by Nimrod's

followers, the People, Angels, and Demons. The overture is a confused,

formless number, indicating the darkness. In the beginning there is no

clear musical idea; but at last the subject assumes definite form as the

dawn breaks and the Master Workman announces the sunrise and calls the

People to their work, in the recitative, "Awake! ye Workers, awake!" The

summons is followed by the chorus, "To work," in which the vocal part is

noisy, broken, and somewhat discordant, representing the hurry and bustle

of a crowd of working-men,--with which, however, the orchestra and organ

build up a powerful theme. The song of the Master Workman is also

interwoven, and the chorus is finally developed with great vigor and

splendid dramatic effect. Nimrod now appears, and in a triumphant

outburst ("Stately rises our Work on high") contemplates the monument to

his greatness now approaching completion. Abraham rebukes him ("How,

Mortal, canst thou reach His Presence?"). The scene at this point is full

of dramatic vigor. Nimrod hurls imprecations at Abraham, followed by

strongly contrasting choruses of the angry People and protecting Angels,

which lead up to the mixed chorus of the People, indicating the confusion

of tongues as they severally ascribe the escape of Abraham from the

furnace-fire to Baal, Dagon, Ashtaroth, and Jehovah, and closing with

tumultuous dissension, which is quelled by Nimrod. The effect of the

Angels' voices in the hurlyburly is exceedingly beautiful, and the

accompaniments, particularly those of the fire-scene, are very vivid.

Nimrod's order to resume work on the tower is followed by the angelic

strain, "Come on! let us down to Earth now hasten." Once more the

Builders break out in their barbaric chorus, "To work," followed by the

portentous outburst of the People, "How the Face of Heaven is

o'ershadowed!" In a vigorous solo Abraham replies, "No! 'tis not Vapor

nor Storm-clouds that gather." There is a final controversy between

Abraham and Nimrod, and as the latter orders the patriarch to be thrown

from the tower, the storm breaks, and amid the shrieks of the chorus

("Horror! horror") and the tremendous clangor of organ and orchestra on

the theme already developed in the opening, the tower is destroyed.

The tumultuous scene is followed by Nimrod's lament ("The Tower whose

lofty Height was like my State"), a bass aria of great power, and

reaching a splendid climax. Abraham, in an exultant strain ("The Lord is

strong in Might"), proclaims God's purpose to scatter the people. The

most picturesque scene in the work now occurs,--the dispersal of the

Shemites, Hamites, and Japthides, typified by orchestral marches and

choruses of a barbaric cast. The stage directions at this point indicate

that the three choruses "must be sung behind the scenes, while dissolving

views present to the audience the emigration of the three great human

races,"--an effect which is also made in the last act of Goldmark's

"Queen of Sheba." The first chorus, that of the Shemites, which is sung

in unison, is taken from some of the ancient music in the ritual of the

Jewish Synagogue, that used on the eve of the Day of Atonement. The other

two choruses are also Oriental in color and rhythm, and give a very

striking effect to this part of the work. The chorus of Angels ("Thus by

Almighty Power of God") proclaims the completion of the work, and two

long solos by Abraham and Nimrod lead up to the final choruses of the

Angels, People, and Demons, worked up in very powerful style, and in the

finale uniting the themes which originally introduced the chorus of the

People and the Angels, and the subject of the darkness in the overture.

The tableau is thus described in the stage directions: "The stage is

divided into three horizontal compartments. In the middle is the earth;

in the upper is the throne of the Almighty, surrounded by all the

heavenly powers; in the lower, hell, Satan seated on his throne,

surrounded by all the infernal deities."

Paradise Lost.

The oratorio "Paradise Lost" was first produced in Vienna in 1859 by the

Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde, a choral organization conducted by

Rubinstein during his stay in that city. Like "The Tower of Babel," it is

entitled by the composer "a sacred opera," though it is in genuine

oratorio form, and usually classed as such. The text is a very free

transcription from Milton. The work is divided into three parts; but as

the second is usually the only part given by oratorio societies, our

sketch will be principally confined to that. The first part mainly

concerns the defeat of Satan's forces by the legions of Heaven, and is

remarkable for its vigorous instrumental treatment.

The second part is devoted to the creation, and is composed principally

of choruses introduced by a few bars of recitative, invariably for the

tenor, who acts the part of narrator. The first seven of these describe

the creation of the earth. After a characteristic introduction, the tenor

declares "Chaos, be ended!" whereupon the Angels sing a glowing tribute

to light ("Upspringing, the darkened Air broke forth into radiant

Brightness"). Again the tenor and chorus in a brief number describe the

firmament. The third chorus ("Fierce raged the Billows") pictures the

division of land and water with great vigor, accompanied by imitative

instrumentation which indicates Rubinstein's skill as a water-painter

quite as clearly as his great Ocean Symphony. In the fourth and fifth

choruses the music vividly tells the story of the creation of the trees

and plants and the appearance of the stars in the firmament. The sixth

("Gently beaming, softly streaming"), in which the Angels rejoice in the

soft radiance of the moon, is short, but exceedingly tender and

beautiful. In the seventh ("All around rose the Sound of the Strife of

Life"), we have a description of the awakening of life characterized by

extraordinary descriptive power. This group of choruses, each one

thoroughly fresh, original, and picturesque in its description, brings us

up to the creation of man, which is the finest portion of the whole

work. It begins with a long tenor recitative, "In all her Majesty shines

on high the Heaven," reaching a fine crescendo at the close ("And lo! it

was Man"). The Angels reply with their heavenly greeting, "Hail to Thee,

O Man." A short dialogue follows between Adam and the Narrator, and the

Angels renew their greeting, this time to Eve. This leads up to a lovely

duet between Adam and Eve ("Teach us then to come before Thee"), which is

very gracefully constructed, and tenderly melodious in character. The

final number is a chorus of the Angels ("Clear resounded the Trumpets of

Heaven"), beginning in broad, flowing, jubilant harmony, then developing

into a fugue on the words "Praise the Almighty One," built up on a

subject full of exultation and grandeur, and closing with a Hallelujah

delivered with mighty outbursts of power.

The third part is devoted to the fall of Adam and Eve and their

banishment from Eden, closing with the announcement of the ultimate

salvation of mankind. Both the Almighty and Satan appear in this part,

the former's music being sung by the tenor voice; though, curiously

enough, the latter's music is much the more attractive.

SAINT-SAENS.

Charles Camille Saint-Saens, famous as composer, pianist, and critic, was

born in Paris, Oct. 9, 1835. He began his musical studies at a very early

age. In his seventh year he took piano lessons of Stamaty and studied

harmony, and in his twelfth was a student at the Conservatory, where he

took two organ prizes; though he failed on two occasions in his

competition for the Prix de Rome. His first symphony appeared in 1851,

and was performed with success. In 1853 he was appointed organist of the

Church of St. Merri, and five years later secured a like position at the

Madeleine, which he filled with high honor for nineteen years, finally

resigning in favor of Theodore Dubois. In 1867 he was awarded a prize for

his cantata "Les Noces de Promethee" by the Paris International

Exhibition, and the next year he was received with distinguished honor at

the Artists' Meeting in Weimar, both as pianist and composer. His

operatic career began about this time. "La Princesse jeune" appeared in

1872, and "Le Timbre d'Argent" in 1877; but neither was successful. His

next work was the sacred drama "Samson et Dalila," produced at Weimar in

the latter part of 1877; followed by "Etienne Marcel" at Lyons in 1879.

In addition to his operas he has written several cantatas, among them

"The Deluge" and "La Lyre et la Harpe," composed for the Birmingham

Festival of 1879; three symphonies; four symphonic poems, "La Rouet

d'Omphale," "Phaethon," "Danse Macabre," and "La Jeunesse d'Hercule;" a

large number of concerted pieces with orchestra, songs and romances, as

well as chamber-music and compositions for piano and organ. His sacred

music includes the following works: mass for four voices, Requiem Mass,

"Oratorio de Noel," "Tantum Ergo," the Nineteenth Psalm for solos,

chorus, and orchestra, and many minor pieces for choir use. He has been a

prolific writer, but his fame thus far rests upon his instrumental music.

He has travelled much as a virtuoso in Russia, Spain, Germany, and

England, conducting his own compositions, and also giving piano and organ

recitals, in which he has met with great success. He also ranks high as a

musical critic, and many of his contributions to the Parisian press have

been collected, with a view to publication in a separate volume. Of late

he has obtained considerable notoriety by his controversial articles on

the Wagner question,--in which, however, national prejudice sometimes has

been more apparent than cosmopolitan judgment. As a composer, he is

unquestionably more learned than are any of his native contemporaries,

and he has made a closer study of Bach than even Gounod has. His

descriptive powers are very strong, as is evidenced by the symphonic

poems which Mr. Thomas has introduced into this country. They even go to

the verge of the sensational; but, on the other hand, the study of his

"Oratorio de Noel" and of his transcriptions from Bach will show that he

is a master of counterpoint and thematic treatment.

Christmas Oratorio.

"Noel," Saint-Saens' Christmas oratorio, in dimensions hardly exceeds the

limits of a cantata, but musically is constructed in oratorio style. Its

subject is the nativity, combined with ascriptions of praise and a final

exultant hallelujah. The work is short, but very effective, and is

written for five solo voices and chorus, with accompaniment of strings

and organ, and the harp in one number. It opens with a pastoral symphony

of a very melodious character. The first number is the recitative, "And

there were Shepherds," including the angelic message and the appearance

of the heavenly hosts, the subject being divided among the tenor, alto,

soprano, and baritone, and leading up to the first chorus ("Glory now

unto God in the highest"), which is quite short, but beautifully written.

The next number is an aria for mezzo-soprano ("Firm in Faith"), which is

very simple, but graceful in its melody. The fourth number is a tenor

solo and chorus ("God of all"), written in the church style, followed by

a soprano and baritone duet ("Blessed, ever blessed"), which is very

elaborate in its construction, and highly colored. The next number is the

chorus, "Wherefore are the Nations raging," which is intensely dramatic

in its effect, especially for the manner in which the voice-parts are set

off against the agitated accompaniment. The contrasts also are very

striking, particularly that between the tumultuous opening of the chorus

and its tranquil close in full harmony on the words, "As it was in the

Beginning." The next number is a lovely trio for tenor, soprano, and

baritone ("Thou art from first to last"), with harp accompaniment

throughout, which gives to it an extremely graceful and elegant effect.

It is followed by a quartet ("Alleluia"), in which the theme is

introduced by the alto. The Alleluia is then taken up by all four parts

(soprano, mezzo-soprano, alto, and baritone), in full, rich harmony, the

alto closing the number alone in a very effective adagio passage. The

next number is a quintet and chorus, the prelude to which is a repetition

of parts of the opening pastoral. It is also utilized in the voice parts.

The number is very elaborate in its construction and development, and is

followed by a short final chorus ("Raise now your Song on high") in

simple church style. Short as the work is, it is very beautiful, and full

not only of genuine service music, but also of graceful conceits and

delicate fancies, both in the voice parts and the accompaniments.

SCHUMANN.

Robert Schumann, one of the greatest of musicians, and one who, had his

life been spared, would probably have stood at the head of all composers

since Beethoven and Schubert, was the son of a bookseller, and was born

at Zwickau, in Saxony, June 8, 1810. In his earliest youth he was

recognized as a child of genius. His first teacher in music was

Baccalaureus Kuntzsch, who gave him piano instructions. It was while

taking these lessons that he attended a concert given by Moscheles. The

playing of the great teacher aroused his musical ambition, and first

inspired him to become a musician. His father recognized his talent very

early, but his mother was opposed to his ambition. In deference to her

wishes, he began the study of law,--with the full determination, however,

to make music his vocation; and in this he ultimately succeeded, through

the influence of Wieck, whose daughter, Clara, he subsequently married,

and who is still a skilful pianist and famous teacher. He studied the

piano with Wieck until his right hand was injured. In 1830, in which year

his artistic career really opened, he began the theoretical study of

music in its groundwork, first with Director Kupsch in Leipsic, and later

with Heinrich Dorn, and at the same time entered upon the work of

composition. His opus No. 1 was the so-called "Abegg Variations,"

dedicated to a young lady, Meta Abegg, whom he had met at a ball in

Mannheim. In the same year, 1830, he composed a toccata. In 1831 his

famous "Papillons" and other piano works appeared. Schumann was not only

a musician, but an able critic and graceful writer; and in 1834, with

Schunke, Knorr, and Wieck, he founded the "Neue Zeitschrift fuer Musik,"

which had an important influence upon musical progress in Germany, and in

which the great promise of such musicians as Chopin and Brahms was first

recognized. He married Clara Wieck in 1840, after much opposition from

her father; and in this year appeared some of his best songs, including

the three famous cycluses, "Liederkreis," "Woman's Life and Love," and

"Poet's Love," which now have a world-wide fame. In the following year

larger works came from his pen, among them his B major symphony,

overture, scherzo, and finale in E major, and the symphony in D minor.

During this period in his career he also made many artistic journeys with

his wife, which largely increased the reputation of each. In 1843 he

completed his great "romantic oratorio," "Paradise and the Peri," set to

Moore's text, and many favorite songs and piano compositions, among them

the "Phantasiestuecke" and "Kinderscenen," and his elegant piano quintet

in E flat. In 1844, in company with his wife, he visited St. Petersburg

and Moscow, and their reception was a royal one. The same year he

abandoned his "Zeitschrift," in which "Florestan," "Master Raro,"

"Eusebius," and the other pseudonyms had become familiar all over

Germany, and took the post of director in Duesseldorf, in the place of

Ferdinand Hiller. During the last few years of his life he was the victim

of profound melancholy, owing to an affection of the brain, and he even

attempted suicide by throwing himself into the Rhine. He was then removed

to an asylum at Endenich, where he died July 20, 1856. The two men who

exercised most influence upon Schumann were Jean Paul and Franz Schubert.

He was deeply pervaded with the romance of the one and the emotional

feeling of the other. His work is characterized by genial humor, a rich

and warm imagination, wonderfully beautiful instrumentation, especially

in his accompaniments, the loftiest form of expression, and a rigid

adherence to the canons of art.

Paradise and the Peri.

Schumann's secular oratorio, "Paradise and the Peri," was written in

1843, and first performed at the Gewandhaus, Leipsic, December 4th of

that year, under the composer's own direction. Its first performance in

England was given June 23, 1856, with Madame Jenny Lind-Goldschmidt in

the part of the Peri, Sterndale Bennett conducting. The text is taken

from the second poem in Moore's "Lalla Rookh," and was suggested to

Schumann by his friend Emil Flechsig, who had translated the poem. This

was in 1841; but he did not set it to music until two years later. The

text required many changes, and these he made himself. The principal

additions are a chorus for "The Spirits of the Nile," the chorus of

Houris, the Peri's solo, "Banished," the quartet, "Peri, 'tis true," the

solo, "Sunken was the Golden Orb," and the final chorus. It has also been

suggested that he availed himself of still another translation, that of

Ollker's, as many of the changes agree with his text.

It is difficult to define the exact form of the work, though it is nearly

always classed as a secular oratorio, principally because of the

introduction of the narrator, after the style of the passion-music. In

other respects it resembles the cantata. Reissmann, in his Life of

Schumann, says on this point,--

"It seems right that he should have retained the most primitive form of

the oratorio, that of the passion-music. The poem has no genuinely

dramatic course; there was not the smallest intrinsic or extrinsic

reason to dramatize it more fully. Even with treatment such as that of

the 'Walpurgisnacht,' it must have lost much of its picturesque

development The only proper way to treat the subject, therefore, was to

retain the original epic form, and to introduce a narrator in the style

of antique oratorio, who should relate the facts in a few simple words

up to the point where they seem to demand a more dramatic setting."

Von Wasielewski also discusses the same point:

"The narrator is evidently copied from the evangelist in Bach's

passion-music; but by no means with a like necessity. Unquestionably

the latter shared the conviction of his day, that not only the

substance, but the words, of the biblical dogma were sacred. Schumann's

case was not at all similar. He had before him, in the poem to be set

to music, a work of art which, although once remodelled, would still

permit every formal change required by aesthetic considerations. How

easy, for example, it would have been to abolish the narrator, as

destructive of unity!"

Had the narrative passages been omitted, it would unquestionably have

enhanced the interest and perhaps relieved the monotony and wearisomeness

of some parts of the work. Unlike the usual manner in which the

narrator's part is treated,--as a mere recitative link between

numbers,--Schumann invests it with the same importance as the acts and

events themselves, and treats it melodically, so that the relief which

comes from contrast is lacking.

The oratorio is written in three parts, for solo voices, chorus, and

orchestra, the principals being the Peri (soprano); the Angel (alto); the

King of Gazna (bass); a Youth (tenor); the Horseman (baritone); and the

Maiden (soprano). The choruses are sung by Indians, Angels, Houris, and

Genii of the Nile, and the part of Narrator is divided among the various

voices. The story follows that of the original poem. The Peri, expelled

from Paradise, stands at its gate weeping to think

"her recreant race

Should e'er have lost that sacred place."

The angel who keeps the gate of light promises she shall be re-admitted

if she brings "the gift that is most dear to Heaven." The Peri goes in

quest of the gift, first to India, where she procures the last drop of

blood shed by the hero who resisted the tyrant Mahmoud, and takes it with

her to the gate; but the crystal bar moves not. She continues her quest,

and from the pestilential plains of Egypt she takes back the last sigh of

the maiden who sacrificed herself to her love for the youth who stole out

to die alone. But still the crystal bar moves not. At last, in the vale

of Baalbec, she finds the gift,--the tear of a repentant sinner,--which

secures her admission.

After a brief orchestral introduction, the Narrator (alto) tells the

story of the disconsolate Peri at the gate, and introduces her in the

first solo ("How blest seem to me, vanished Child of Air"), a tender,

beautiful melody, characterized by romantic sentiment. The Narrator

(tenor) introduces the Angel, who delivers her message to the Peri ("One

Hope is thine"), to which the latter replies in a sensuous melody, full

of Oriental color ("I know the Wealth hidden in every Urn"). The tenor

Narrator introduces at this point a quartet ("O beauteous Land"), in

which the two trebles, tenor, and bass alternate, followed by the full,

powerful chorus, "But crimson now her Rivers ran." A weird march, fairly

barbaric in its effect, indicates the approach of the tyrant of Gazna,

and introduces the stirring chorus of the Indians and Conquerors ("Hail

to Mahmoud"). The tenor Narrator describes the youthful warrior standing

alone beside his native river and defying the tyrant. Once more the

chorus shouts its greeting to Mahmoud, and then ensues a dialogue in

recitative between the two, leading up to the youth's death and a double

chorus of lamentation ("Woe, for false flew the Shaft"). The tenor

Narrator describes the flight of the Peri to catch the last drop of blood

shed for liberty; and then all the voices join with the soprano solo in a

broad, strong, exultant finale ("For Blood must holy be"), which is one

of the most effective numbers in the work.

The second part opens in the most charming manner. The tenor Narrator

pictures the return of the Peri with her gift, leading up to the Angel's

solo ("Sweet is our welcome"), which preludes a brief choral passage for

sixteen female voices. After the Narrator's declaration of her

disappointment, the scene changes to Egypt, and in a dainty, delicate

three-part chorus the Spirits of the Nile are invoked not to disturb the

Peri. Her lament is heard ("O Eden, how longeth for thee my Heart!"), and

the Spirits now weave a gentle, sympathetic strain with her song. A long

tenor narration follows ("Now wanders forth the Peri sighing"),

describing the pestilence brooding over the Egyptian plains, the music to

which is very characteristic. The scene of the maiden dying with her

lover is full of pathos, and contains two exquisite numbers,--the

narrative solo for mezzo-soprano ("Poor Youth, thus deserted"), and the

dying love-song of the Maiden ("O let me only breathe the Air, Love").

The scene closes with a sweet and gentle lament for the pair ("Sleep

on"), sung by the Peri, followed by the chorus, which joins in the

pathetic farewell.

The third part opens with a lovely chorus of Houris ("Wreathe ye the

Steps to Great Allah's Throne"), interspersed with solos and Oriental in

its coloring. The tenor narration ("Now Morn is blushing in the Sky"),

which is very melodious in character, introduces the Angel, who in an

alto solo ("Not yet") once more dooms the Peri to wander. Her reply

("Rejected and sent from Eden's Door") is full of despair. The narration

is now taken by the baritone in a flowing, breezy strain ("And now o'er

Syria's rosy Plain"), which is followed by a charming quartet of Peris

("Say, is it so?"). Once more the baritone intervenes, followed by the

Peri; and then the tenor Narrator takes up the theme in a stirring

description of the boy nestling amid the roses, and the "passion-stained"

horseman at the fountain. The alto proclaims the vesper call to prayer,

and the tenor reflects upon the memories of the wretched man as he sees

the child kneeling. The solo baritone announces his repentance, followed

by a quartet and chorus in very broad, full harmony ("O blessed Tears of

true Repentance!"). The next number is a double one, composed of soprano

and tenor solos with chorus ("There falls a Drop on the Land of Egypt").

In an exultant, triumphant strain ("Joy, joy forever, my Work is done!"),

the Peri sings her happiness, and the chorus brings the work to a close

with the heavenly greeting, "Oh, welcome 'mid the Blessed!" The third

part is unquestionably long and wearisome, and taxes not only the voices

of the singers, but also the patience of the hearers. The first and

second, however, contain some beautiful gems, and the orchestral work is

very rich in its coloring. Taken all in all, however, it is a severe

treatment of a fanciful subject.

SPOHR.

Louis Spohr, one of the world's greatest violinists, and a composer of

world-wide fame, was born at Brunswick, April 25, 1784. Like all great

musical geniuses, his ability was displayed very early. He began to play

the violin in his fifth year, and to compose for that instrument before

he was in his teens. After studying the rudiments with several teachers,

the Duke of Brunswick induced Franz Eck, a recognized master of the

violin, to give him instruction. Spohr remained with him two years, and

accompanied him on his travels to Russia, studying, composing, and

learning much by his observation of Eck's playing. In 1805 he was

appointed leader of the band of the Duke of Gotha, and began writing

orchestral works, his compositions before that time having been mainly

for the violin. His first opera, "Die Pruefung," also appeared about this

time. In 1807 he made a very successful tour through Germany, and another

in 1809, arousing great enthusiasm by his admirable playing. In that year

also occurred the first musical festival in Germany, which was conducted

by Spohr at Frankenhausen, in Thuringia. In 1811 another was held, for

which he wrote his first symphony. In 1812 his first oratorio, "Das

juengste Gericht," appeared; but after two performances of it he was

greatly dissatisfied, and laid it aside. In the fall of that year he made

his first public appearance in Vienna, and achieved such success that he

was offered and accepted the leadership of the band at the

Theater-an-der-Wien. He remained there only three years, however, and

then resumed his professional tours in Switzerland and Italy. In 1818 he

was appointed conductor of the opera at Frankfort, where he remained for

two years, during which time he brought out his operas "Faust" and

"Zemire and Azor." In 1820 he went to England for the first time, and

played many of his compositions in the Philharmonic concerts. His English

visit was a very successful one, and on his journey back to Germany he

stopped in Paris, where also he met with an enthusiastic welcome. He

finally settled down at Dresden, where Weber was then busy with the

preparations for the performance of his "Freischuetz." During his stay

there, Weber had been offered the post of Hofkapellmeister to the Elector

of Cassel; but not being in a position to accept it, he recommended

Spohr, and the latter obtained the appointment Jan. 1, 1822, where he

remained the rest of his days, as it was a life-office. During this year

he finished his opera "Jessonda," one of the most successful of all his

vocal works. Four years later he conducted the Rhenish Festival at

Duesseldorf and brought out his second oratorio, "Die letzten Dinge" ("The

Last Things"). In 1831 he completed his "Violin School," which has ever

since been a standard work. His most important symphony, "Die Weihe der

Toene" ("The Consecration of Sound"), was produced at Cassel in 1832, and

his third oratorio, "Des Heiland's letzte Stunden" ("Calvary"), at the

same place in 1835. Four years later he went to England again, and

produced his "Calvary" at the Norwich Festival with immense success,

which led to his reception of a commission to produce "The Fall of

Babylon" for the Festival of 1842. His last opera, "The Crusaders," was

written in 1844, but did not meet with a permanent success. From this

time until 1857 he was engaged in making tours and producing the works of

other composers, among them those of Wagner, whose "Tannhaeuser" he

brought out in 1853, in spite of the Elector's opposition. In 1857 he was

pensioned, and two years later died. He was born a musician and died one,

and in his long and honorable life he was always true to his art and did

much to ennoble and dignify it, notwithstanding the curious combinations

in his musical texture. He never could understand or appreciate

Beethoven. He proclaimed himself a disciple of Mozart, though he had

little in common with him, and he declared Wagner the greatest of all

living composers, on the strength of his "Flying Dutchman" alone. As a

performer, he was one of the best of any period.

The Last Judgment.

Spohr wrote two oratorios upon the same subject,--"Das juengste Gericht"

("The Last Judgment") and "Die letzten Dinge" ("The Last Things"); but

the latter is now universally entitled "The Last Judgment," and the

former was shelved by the composer himself shortly after its performance.

His autobiography gives us some interesting details of each. After a

concert-tour to Hamburg, Spohr returned to Gotha, and found there a

letter from Bischoff, the Precentor of Frankenhausen, informing him that

he had been commanded by the Governor of Erfurt to arrange a musical

festival there in celebration of the birthday of Napoleon, August 15. He

invited Spohr to assume its direction and to write an oratorio for the

occasion. Previous to this a poet in Erfurt had offered him the text

called "The Last Judgment," and Spohr determined to avail himself of it.

He writes,--

"I sent for the libretto and set to work at once. But I soon felt that

for the oratorio style I was yet too deficient in counterpoint and in

fugueing. I therefore suspended my work in order to make the

preliminary studies requisite for the subject. From one of my pupils I

borrowed Marpurg's 'Art of Fugue-writing,' and was soon deeply and

continuously engaged in the study of that work. After I had written

half a dozen fugues according to its instruction, the last of which

seemed to me very successful, I resumed the composition of my oratorio,

and completed it without allowing anything else to intervene. According

to a memorandum I made, it was begun in January, 1812, and finished in

June."

In this connection Spohr tells the following humorous story:--

"One of the solo-singers alone, who sang the part of Satan, did not

give me satisfaction. The part, which was written with a powerful

instrumentation, I gave, by the advice of Bischoff, to a village

schoolmaster in the neighborhood of Gotha who was celebrated throughout

the whole district for his colossal bass voice. In power of voice he

had indeed quite sufficient to outroar a whole orchestra; but in

science and in music he could by no means execute the part in a

satisfactory manner. I taught and practised him in the part myself, and

took great pains to assist him a little. But without much success; for

when the day of public trial came, he had totally forgotten every

instruction and admonition, and gave such loose to his barbarian voice

that he first of all frightened the auditory, and then set it in roars

of laughter."

It is clear from Spohr's remarks that he was satisfied with the choruses

and fugues, but not with the solo parts of Jesus and Mary, which were in

the florid cantata style of that day. He subsequently determined to

re-write them; but "when about to begin," he says, "it seemed to me as

though I could no longer enter into the spirit of the subject, and so it

remained undone. To publish the work as it was, I could not make up my

mind. Thus in later years it has lain by without any use being made of

it."

Thirteen years afterwards he wrote "Die letzten Dinge," now so well known

as "The Last Judgment." He says in one of his letters,--

"In the same year [1825] Councillor Rochlitz, the editor of the

'Leipsic Musical Journal,' offered me the text of an oratorio, 'Die

letzten Dinge,' to compose for, which I received with great pleasure,

as my previous attempt in that style of art, 'Das juengste Gericht,' by

no means pleased me any longer, and therefore I had not once been

disposed to perform a single number of it at the meeting of our

Society.... The whole work was finished by Good Friday [1826], and then

first performed complete in the Lutheran Church. It was in the evening,

and the church was lighted up. My son-in-law, Wolff, who had been long

in Rome, proposed to illuminate the church as at Rome on Good Friday,

with lights disposed overhead in the form of a cross, and carried out

his idea. A cross fourteen feet long, covered with silver-foil and hung

with six hundred glass lamps, was suspended overhead in the middle of

the church, and diffused so bright a light that one could everywhere

clearly read the text-books. The musicians and singers, nearly two

hundred in number, were placed in the gallery of the church, arranged

in rows one above the other, and for the most part unseen by the

auditory, which, amounting to nearly two thousand persons, observed a

solemn stillness. My two daughters, Messrs. Wild, Albert, and Foeppel,

together with an amateur, sang the soli, and the performance was

faultless. The effect was, I must myself say, extraordinary."

The title of the work is clearly a misnomer, as well as a mistranslation,

for it contains nothing of the terrors of the Last Judgment, but, on the

other hand, is graceful and elegant in style. The affixing of this title

to it is said to have been the work of Professor Taylor, who arranged it

for the Norwich festival of 1830, and supposed he was preparing the

earlier oratorio, "Das juengste Gericht." The title has now become so

indissolubly connected with it that no effort has been made to change it.

In the first part the text is confined to ascriptions of praise. The

solo, "Blessing, honor, glory, and power be unto him that sitteth upon

the throne, and unto the Lamb forever," conveys the meaning of the whole

first part; while the second part is confined to those portions of the

Apocalypse which describe the terrible signs of the last day, concluding

with visions of the new heaven and a hallelujah. And yet Malibran, in her

biography of Spohr, calls the oratorio a musical copy of Michael Angelo's

"Last Judgment,"--showing that more than one person has confounded the

two oratorios.

The work opens with a very long overture of a grave and majestic

character, in limits far beyond those usually found in oratorio. It is

followed by the striking chorus, "Praise His awful Name," which is

beautifully written, and contains impressive soprano and bass solos. Some

brief tenor and bass recitatives lead to the second number, a short

chorus ("Holy, holy, Lord God of Hosts"), in which the voices have no

accompaniment except the horns. Three phrases of recitative for soprano

and tenor lead to the next chorus ("All Glory to the Lamb that died"), a

grand number, which is familiar to nearly every lover of oratorio music.

The next number is one of the most striking in the work. A short tenor

recitative introduces the tenor solo and chorus, "Blessing, honor, glory,

and power," beginning with a tranquil and smoothly flowing solo, the

chorus opening in the same manner, then developing into an admirably

written fugue, and closing in the same serene style as it opened. A very

dramatic and picturesque scene follows, comprising the tenor recitative

("And lo! a mighty Host"), with a very striking accompaniment descriptive

of "the mighty host of all nations and people that stood before the

throne and the Lamb," and the exquisite quartet and chorus ("Lord God of

Heaven and Earth") which close the first part.

The second part opens with an orchestral symphony which heralds the signs

and portents of the Day of Judgment in graphic style. It is followed by a

long bass recitative with intensely dramatic accompaniment:--

"The day of wrath is near.

The Almighty shall reveal His power.

The reaper's song is silent in the field,

And the shepherd's voice on the mountain.

The valleys then shall shake with fear,

With dread the hills shall tremble.

It comes, the day of terror comes!

The awful morning dawns!

Thy mighty arm, O God, is uplifted.

Thou shalt shake the earth and heavens.

They shall shrivel as a scroll

When Thou in wrath appearest."

The text indicates the dramatic nature of the subject, and it is treated

with a force and vigor that are in striking contrast with the tenderness

and serenity, at times rising to exultation, that characterize the

remainder of the work. This recitative leads to the very pathetic duet

for soprano and tenor, "Forsake me not in this dread hour," which is a

gem of beautiful melody, followed by the response of the chorus in

unison, "If with your whole Hearts." After a short tenor recitative,

another strong chorus ensues ("Destroyed is Babylon"), with an agitated

and powerful accompaniment, which continues for some time after the

voices cease, once interrupted by the tenor proclaiming "It is ended,"

and then coming to a close in a gentle pianissimo effect. A tender,

melodious quartet and chorus ("Blest are the Departed") follows. The

soprano voice announces the new heaven and earth. A short tenor

recitative ("Behold! He soon shall come") and the quartet response ("Then

come, Lord Jesus") prepare the way for the final massive chorus ("Great

and wonderful are all Thy Works"), which begins with a few bars of full

harmony, then develops into a vigorous fugue, which, after choral

announcements of hallelujah, is followed by another fugue ("Thine is the

Kingdom"), closing with a tumultuous ascription of praise, and Amen. The

solo parts in the oratorio are always short and of a reflective

character. It is peculiarly a choral work, of which, with one or two

exceptions, the predominant traits are sweetness, tenderness, and grace.

In these exceptions, like the great chorus, "Destroyed is Babylon," with

its wonderful accompaniments, it reaches a high strain of sublimity.

SULLIVAN.

The great popularity which Arthur Seymour Sullivan has enjoyed for a few

years past, growing out of his extraordinarily successful series of comic

operettas, beginning with "The Sorcerer" (1877), which first caught the

public fancy, and ending with "The Mikado" (1885), has almost

overshadowed the permanent foundations upon which his reputation must

rest; namely, his serious and sacred music. He was born in London, May

13, 1842. His father, a band-master and clarinet-player of distinction,

intrusted his musical education at first to the Rev. Thomas Hilmore,

master of the children of the Chapel Royal. He entered the Chapel in 1854

and remained there three years, and also studied in the Royal Academy of

Music under Goss and Sterndale Bennett during this period, leaving the

latter institution in 1858, in which year he went to Leipsic. He remained

in the Conservatory there until 1861, when he returned to London and

introduced himself to its musical public with his music to Shakspeare's

"Tempest," which made a great success. The enthusiasm with which this was

received and the favors he gained at the hands of Chorley, at that time

musical critic of the "Athenaeum," gave him a secure footing. The cantata

"Kenilworth," written for the Birmingham Festival, the music to the

ballet "L'Ile enchantee," and an opera, "The Sapphire Necklace," were

produced in 1864. In 1866 appeared his first symphony, which has been

played not only in England, but also in Germany, and an overture, "In

Memoriam,"--a tribute to his father, who died that year. The next year

his overture "Marmion" was first performed. In 1869 he wrote his first

oratorio, "The Prodigal Son," in 1873 "The Light of the World," and in

1880 "The Martyr of Antioch;" the first for the Worcester, the second for

the Birmingham, and the third for the Leeds festivals. The beautiful

"Overture di Ballo," so frequently played in this country by the Thomas

orchestra, was written for Birmingham in 1870, and the next year appeared

his brilliant cantata "On Shore and Sea." On the 11th of May, 1867, was

first heard in public his little comic operetta "Cox and Box." It was the

first in that series of extraordinary successes, really dating from "The

Sorcerer," which are almost without parallel in the operatic world, and

which have made his name and that of his collaborator, Gilbert, household

words. He has done much for sacred as well as for secular music. In

addition to his oratorios he has written numerous anthems, forty-seven

hymn-tunes, two Te Deums, several carols, part-songs, and choruses, and

in 1872 edited the collection of "Church Hymns with Tunes" for the

Christian Knowledge Society.

He received the honorary degree of Doctor of Music from Cambridge in

1876, and from Oxford in 1879, and in 1883 was knighted by the Queen.

The Prodigal Son.

"The Prodigal Son," the first of Sullivan's oratorios, was written for

the Worcester Festival in England, and performed for the first time Sept.

8, 1869. It is a short work, comprising but eighteen numbers, and very

melodious in character. In his preface to the work the composer says,--

"It is a remarkable fact that the parable of the Prodigal Son should

never before have been chosen as the text of a sacred musical

composition. The story is so natural and pathetic, and forms so

complete a whole; its lesson is so thoroughly Christian; the

characters, though few, are so perfectly contrasted; and the

opportunity for the employment of local color is so obvious,--that it

is indeed astonishing to find the subject so long overlooked.

"The only drawback is the shortness of the narrative, and the

consequent necessity for filling it out with material drawn from

elsewhere. In the present case this has been done as sparingly as

possible, and entirely from the Scriptures. In so doing, the Prodigal

himself has been conceived, not as of a naturally brutish and depraved

disposition,--a view taken by many commentators, with apparently little

knowledge of human nature, and no recollection of their own youthful

impulses,--but rather as a buoyant, restless youth, tired of the

monotony of home, and anxious to see what lay beyond the narrow

confines of his father's farm, going forth in the confidence of his own

simplicity and ardor, and led gradually away into follies and sins

which at the outset would have been as distasteful as they were strange

to him. The episode with which the parable concludes has no dramatic

connection with the former and principal portion, and has therefore not

been treated."

In reality there are but six of the eighteen numbers concerned with the

narration of the parable. The remainder moralize upon the story and

illustrate its teaching. After a short, simple orchestral prelude, an

opening chorus, beginning with soprano solo ("There is Joy in the

Presence of the Angels of God"), and containing also alto and bass solos,

gives the key to the whole work in reflective style, as it proclaims the

rejoicing in heaven over the "one sinner that repenteth." At its

conclusion the parable begins with tenor recitative and solo, "A certain

man had two sons," in which the Prodigal asks for his portion of goods.

In a bass aria preceded by recitative, the father gives him good advice,

"Honor the Lord," and presumably his portion also, as the soprano recites

in the next number that "he took his journey into a far country, and

there wasted his substance in riotous living." Thereupon follows a very

melodious and vivacious chorus ("Let us eat and drink; to-morrow we

die"), in which the tenor has an important part. The response to the

bacchanal comes in the next number, a brief chorus beginning with the

alto recitative, "Woe unto them." One of the gems of the work, a pretty

alto song, "Love not the World," intervenes at this point. At its

conclusion the narrative is resumed.

After an effective prelude by orchestra, the soprano recitative relates

the famine and the experiences of the Prodigal among the swine, leading

up to a pretty aria ("O that thou hadst hearkened"). The tenor follows

with an expressive aria ("How many hired Servants of my Father's"). The

narrative again halts to give place to a very taking chorus ("The

Sacrifices of God"), after which we have the return and reconciliation

("And he arose and came to his Father"),--a very dramatic duet for tenor

and bass, followed by the vigorous and exultant bass aria ("For this my

Son was dead") of the father. The parable ends here; but the music goes

on moralizing upon and illustrating the theme in four effective

numbers,--the chorus, "O that Men would praise the Lord," which is the

longest and best constructed in the work; the recitative and aria for

tenor, "Come, ye Children;" the unaccompanied quartet, "The Lord is

nigh;" and the final chorus, "Thou, O Lord, art our Father," closing with

a Hallelujah in full, broad harmony.

The Light of the World.

Sir Arthur Sullivan's second oratorio, "The Light of the World," is laid

out upon a much larger scale in every way than "The Prodigal Son." It

was written for the Birmingham Festival of 1873, was given for the first

time on the 27th of August. The purpose of the work, as the composer

explains in his preface, is to set forth the human aspects of the life of

our Lord upon earth, by the use of some of the actual incidents in his

career which bear witness to his attributes as preacher, healer, and

prophet. "To give it dramatic force," he says,--

"The work has been laid out in scenes dealing respectively, in the

first part with the nativity, preaching, healing, and prophesying of

our Lord, ending with the triumphal entry into Jerusalem; and in the

second part, with the utterances which, containing the avowal of

himself as the Son of Man, excited to the utmost the wrath of his

enemies, and led the rulers to conspire for his betrayal and death; the

solemn recital by the chorus of his sufferings, and the belief in his

final reward; the grief of Mary Magdalene at the sepulchre; and the

consolation and triumph of the Disciples at the resurrection of their

Lord and Master."

The first part has four scenes, "Bethlehem," "Nazareth," "Lazarus" (which

might more appropriately have been entitled "Bethany"), and "The Way to

Jerusalem." The scenes of the second part are laid entirely in Jerusalem.

"Bethlehem" includes the message of the angels to the shepherds, their

visit to Mary, the nativity, the warning by the angel to Mary and Joseph

of Herod's design, the lament and consolation of Rachel in Rama, and the

promise of God's blessing upon the child. In "Nazareth" we have a scene

representing Christ in the synagogue reading from Isaiah and declaring

himself the object of the prophecy, his expulsion by the incredulous

crowd of listeners, and his exhortations to his disciples, when left

alone with them, to bear their persecutions with meekness. "Lazarus"

describes the journey to Bethany and our Lord's assurances to the

bereaved sisters that their brother shall rise again. "The Way to

Jerusalem" scene is indicated by its title,--the entry of the Lord into

the city amid the hosannas and exultant acclamations of the people. In

the second part, we have the discourse concerning the sheep and the

goats, the interview between the ruler and the people, and the former's

anger with Nicodemus, the sufferings and death of Christ, and the

resurrection and joy of the disciples as they glorify God and sing the

praises of their risen Master.

The work opens with a prologue chorus ("There shall come forth a Rod out

of the Stem of Jesse"), at the close of which the "Bethlehem" scene

begins. It is preluded with a quiet but effective pastoral movement for

the orchestra, a tenor recitative ("There were Shepherds abiding in the

Field"), and a contralto solo announcing the heavenly message to the

Shepherds, which lead up to a spirited "Gloria" by the sopranos and

altos, followed by a chorus of the Shepherds ("Let us now go even unto

Bethlehem") for male voices. A Shepherd, in brief recitative passages,

declares to Mary, "Blessed art thou among Women," followed by the soprano

solo, "My Soul doth magnify the Lord." After the Virgin's expression of

thanks, the Shepherds join in the chorus, "The whole Earth is at rest,"

which is peculiarly striking in its contrasts. A short recitative by the

Angel, warning Mary to flee into Egypt, is followed by a very sombre

chorus ("In Rama was there a Voice"). At its close, the tenor is heard in

a tender aria ("Refrain thy Voice from weeping"), leading to a chorus

full of spirited harmony, and rising to a very effective climax ("I will

pour My Spirit"), which closes the scene.

The "Nazareth" scene opens with a baritone solo ("The Spirit of the Lord

is upon me"), in which Jesus declares himself in the synagogue as the

object of the prophecy from Isaiah which he has been reading. The Jews

answer in a very dramatic chorus ("Whence hath this Man his Wisdom?").

Again Jesus interposes with the declaration, "A prophet is not without

honor save in his own country;" whereupon the people break out in a still

more dramatic chorus ("Is not this Jesus?"), set to a very effective

accompaniment. For the third time Jesus declares himself, followed by the

stirring, furious chorus, "Why hear ye him?" A tender and at times fervid

solo ("Lord, who hath believed our Report?") leads to a very effective

quintet ("Doubtless Thou art our Father"). After another brief baritone

solo ("Blessed are they"), we come to the chorus, "He maketh the Sun to

rise," which is one of the most beautifully written in the work, and

closes the scene.

The third scene, "Lazarus," begins with the description of the mournful

journey to Bethany, the arrival among the kindred and friends, who are

trying to comfort the bereaved sisters, and closes at the still unopened

grave. It includes a duet between tenor and baritone, the former a

Disciple, the latter Jesus, whose music is invariably sung by the

baritone voice; a solo for alto ("Weep ye not for the Dead"), with a

sombre orchestral prelude, and accompanied by a chorus in its close; a

dialogue between Martha and Jesus ("Lord, if thou hadst been here"); a

short but very beautiful chorus ("Behold how he loved him!"); the

baritone solo, "Said I not unto thee;" and a final chorus of great power

("The Grave cannot praise thee").

The last scene of the first part, "The Way to Jerusalem," is very

brilliant throughout, and is in cheerful contrast with the general

sombreness of the preceding numbers. It opens with a brief dialogue

between Jesus and a Disciple ("Master, get thee out, and depart hence"),

which leads to a charming three-part chorus for children's voices

("Hosanna to the Son of David"), with a prominent harp part in the

accompaniment, and worked up to a fine climax. A brilliant soprano solo

("Tell ye the Daughter of Zion") intervenes, followed by a short dialogue

between Jesus and a Pharisee, which leads to the vigorous chorus of the

Disciples, "Blessed be the Kingdom." After another baritone solo ("If

thou hadst known, O Jerusalem") the children's hosanna is repeated,--this

time with the power of the full chorus; and the first part comes to a

close.

The first part opens with a prelude of a few bars; but the second begins

with a long overture, very effectively written, and intended, as the

composer himself says, to indicate the angry feelings and dissensions

caused by the Lord's presence in Jerusalem. At its close the baritone, in

one of the most forcible solos assigned to this part ("When the Son of

Man shall come in his Glory"), discourses the parable of the sheep and

goats. The wondering chorus of the People, "Is not this he whom they seek

to kill?" follows, and then ensues a somewhat tedious scene. A Ruler

argues with the People, contemptuously asking if Christ shall come out of

Galilee. The People remain unconvinced, however. Nicodemus then strives

to reason with the Ruler, with the natural effect of making him very

angry. All this leads up to an effective female chorus ("The Hour is

come"). In a very tender and pathetic solo ("Daughters of Jerusalem")

Jesus sings his farewell. The incidents of the crucifixion are avoided,

as the work is intended only to illustrate the human career of Jesus. The

rest of the story is told in narrative form; an unaccompanied quartet

("Yea, though I walk") and a powerful, but gloomy chorus, describing

Christ's sufferings ("Men and Brethren"), bring us to the sepulchre. The

scene opens with the plaint of Mary Magdalene, "Where have they laid

him?" and the response of the Angel, who tells her Christ has risen,

which is followed by a six-part unaccompanied chorus ("The Lord is

risen"). A short tenor solo ("If ye be risen with Christ") leads directly

to the final chorus ("Him hath God exalted"), which is worked up in fugal

form with much spirit.

VERDI.

Giuseppe Verdi, the greatest of living Italian opera composers, was born

at Roncale, Oct. 9, 1813. Like many another musician, he sprang from

humble and rude beginnings, his parents having kept a small inn and

notion store in the little Italian village. His musical talent displayed

itself very early. In his tenth year he was appointed organist in the

place of Baistrocchi, the master with whom he had been studying at

Busseto. Through the generosity of his patron, M. Barezzi, he was sent to

Milan, where he was refused admission to the Conservatory, on the ground

that he showed "no special aptitude for music!" Nothing daunted, the

young composer, acting on the suggestions of the conductor of La Scala,

studied composition and orchestration with M. Lavigne, himself a composer

of no mean ability. In 1833 Verdi returned to Busseto, and five years

later went back to Milan, where he began his wonderfully successful

career as an operatic composer. His first opera, "Oberto Conte di S.

Bonifacio," appeared in 1839, and was followed by a series of operatic

works that have achieved world-wide success and placed their composer at

the head of all contemporary Italian writers. The most important of them

are: "Nabucco" (1842); "I Lombardi" (1843); "Ernani" (1844); "Attila"

(1846); "Macbeth" (1847); "I Masnadieri" (1847); "Luisa Miller" (1849);

"Rigoletto" (1851); "Il Trovatore" (1853); "La Traviata" (1853); "The

Sicilian Vespers" (1855); "The Masked Ball" (1857); "The Force of

Destiny" (1862); "Don Carlos" (1867); "Aida" (1871). In the last-named

opera, Verdi departs from the purely Italian school of operatic writing

and shows the unmistakable signs of Wagner's influence upon him. Now, in

his seventy-third year, comes the intelligence that he has completed

still another opera, on the subject of "Othello," which will soon be

placed in rehearsal in Paris. In the interval between "Aida" and

"Othello" he wrote the "Manzoni Requiem," a "Pater Noster" for five

voices, and an "Ave Maria" for soprano solo. He has also written several

marches, short symphonies, concertos for piano, minor church

compositions, a stringed quartet, a "Stabat Mater," the choruses to

Manzoni's tragedies, and numerous songs and romances for the

drawing-room. With his wife, Madame Strepponi, he has spent a very quiet

life in his villa at S. Agato, looking after his farming operations, to

which of late years he has given more attention than to music. In a

letter addressed to the Italian critic, Filippi, he writes: "I know very

well that you are also a most distinguished musician and devoted to your

art: ... but Piave and Mariani must have told you that at S. Agato we

neither make nor talk about music, and you will run the risk of finding a

piano not only out of tune, but very likely without strings." He has been

overwhelmed with decorations and honors, but has studiously avoided

public life and the turmoil of the world. In 1866 he was elected a member

of the Italian Parliament from Busseto, but sent in his resignation

shortly afterwards; and in 1875 was appointed senator by the King, but

never took his seat. His fame is indissolubly connected with his music,

and in the pursuit of that art he has become one of the most admired

composers of his time.