chiefly composed of the very best national talent, suddenly sprang up
and sought to introduce the new art and the ideas of the German prophet.
The nation at large did not sympathize with these proceedings. Many
thought that such a movement threatened detriment to Italian art. Hence,
they longed for a great national operatic composer and hailed with
delight and enthusiasm the appearance of Amilcare Ponchielli, who brought
with him everything which was demanded by the conservative party. The
peculiar story of this composer should be briefly told. Born at Cremona,
he became a pupil at the conservatory at Milan, together with Cagnoni
and Boito. He distinguished himself greatly by writing a beautiful
cantata for the graduation exercises, and everybody regarded him as
the pride of the institution. Of course, his chief aim was to write an
opera; and, lacking money to pay for a text by a well known author, he
found an obscure poet who willingly arranged a libretto out of Manzoni's
celebrated novel: "I promessi sposi" (The Betrothed). The opera when
produced was a complete failure, and poor Ponchielli was only too glad to
accept the position of band-master in a wretched village near Cremona,
where he had leisure to meditate on the fortunes of operatic composition.
Nothing was heard of him for many years. He was supposed to be writing
marches and transcriptions of operas for his own band. Suddenly, after
twenty years, an unknown benefactor offered him the means to give the
same opera again, but thoroughly revised and elaborated, at the Teatro
dal Verme in Milan. The success, of which the writer happened to be a
witness, was immense, and at the same time was not without spontaneity.
The Italianissimi found in this opera all they desired: a rich vein of
melody, strong dramatic accents, and the whole machinery of the Italian
stage action of former times. Ponchielli was at once placed beside Verdi.
Up to his untimely death in 1882, he produced several other operas,
which, however, with a single exception, did not meet with genuine
success. The titles were: "I Lituani," "Il figliuol prodigo," "Gioconda"
and "Marion Delorme." He also wrote some graceful and sparkling music to
a ballet, "Le due Gemelle" (The Twins).
Carlos A. Gomez is quite opposite in type and style. The late emperor of
Brazil took a special interest in the promising boy, and sent him in 1865
to Italy, that he might pursue his musical studies. He was a pupil of
Lauro Rossi and Mazzuccato, both directors of the conservatory at Milan.
This native of Brazil was full of ideas of exotic flavor, and he selected
for his opera a plot which gave him ample opportunity to display his
racy, national talent. His first opera, "Guarany," deals with a Peruvian
story, and the most happy numbers in it are those where Aimorè, king
of the Aztecs, and his followers appear on the stage. Gomez in these
fragments simply outdoes Meyerbeer in his "Africana," which hitherto
has been considered the acme of savage music. Although delightfully
successful in this respect the composer was not able to make the rest of
his opera of equal merit. The work had only a comparatively short run.
Gomez's succeeding operas, far better in musical workmanship, "Fosca"
and "Maria Tudor," were failures, but a third, lighter in character,
"Salvator Rosa," was a great success, and contains many sparkling and
bright numbers, among them the celebrated song, "Mia Piccerella." His
last opera, "Condor," given a short time ago at La Scala, did not fulfil
the expectations that were formed regarding it. Gomez went several times
to Brazil, where all his operas were given. He was a pensionnaire of the
late emperor Dom Pedro, who gave him annually, up to the time of his
dethronement, 10,000 francs out of his private purse.
Filippo Marchetti, another modern composer, was very fortunate with his
"Ruy Blas" (after Victor Hugo). This opera had one of the longest runs on
record, and by royalty from it alone Marchetti soon became a very wealthy
man. His other works, "Giulietta e Romeo," "Gustave Wasa" and "Don Juan
d'Austria," were dismal failures and of no special physiognomy whatever.
Marchetti, a favorite of the queen of Italy, is now president of the
Accademia di S. Cecilia in Rome.
Bottesini, the celebrated double bass virtuoso, belongs also to this
group of composers. His first opera, "Ali Baba," was very successful when
given, but did not maintain itself in public favor. "Ero e Leandro," a
second opera of his, did not prove a great success.
Of the younger generation we have to mention Coronaro, who wrote "La
creola," and who is now professor of composition at the conservatory in
Milan. His younger brother, living in Vicenza, was the winner in a late
competition for the Sonzogno prizes, which, as everybody knows, brought
Mascagni from obscurity to celebrity.
Alfredo Catalani is one of the most gifted and remarkable Italian
composers of this period. His musical and general culture is refined
in the highest degree. He was a pupil, first, of Bazin in Paris, and
afterward, strange coincidence of names, of Bazzini, in Milan. He gave
his operas chiefly at Milan (La Scala) or Turin (Teatro Regio). The best
among them are "Dejanice" and "Wally," which, however, were not very
popular with the public. But Catalani is by far the best musician among
all the living Italian opera composers.
Alfredo Smareglia, a Dalmatian by birth, and a pupil of the conservatory
at Milan, excited great expectations by the production at this
institution of a symphonic poem, "Leonora," founded upon Burger's ballad.
He subsequently wrote the operas "Preciosa" and "Il vassalo di Szigeth,"
the latter of which was given successfully at the opera house at Vienna,
and afterwards at the Metropolitan in New York. Smareglia, who is as
industrious as he is highly talented, is now writing a new opera to be
given at Vienna.
Alberto Franchetti, a grandson of the rich Jewish banker Rothschild,
is a composer of unusual talent and with daring, striking ideas, which
are not always successfully realized. His _curriculum vitæ_ reminds one
very much of that of Meyerbeer. Educated in music at the conservatory
at Dresden, under the celebrated Dræseke, he soon distinguished himself
by the production of a symphony in E, which has been performed in many
prominent orchestral concerts. After this he wrote the opera "Asrael,"
a curious mixture, an empirical Italian salad, composed of all that
has been and is. He shows, however, in this work a decided talent for
the stage, though the symphonic element is rather too prominent. This
opera, also, has been given at the Metropolitan opera house in New York.
Chiefly influenced by the mannerisms of Wagner, without fully catching
his spirit, and never forgetting his severe German musical education,
Franchetti is an original figure in the modern history of Italian music.
He received the honorable commission of the municipality of Genoa
to compose the music to the opera "Christopher Columbus," which was
performed at the Teatro Carlo Felice in connection with the Columbian
centennial festivities and won a great success.
The Wagnerian enthusiasm in Italy is, however, more of an outward
manifestation than an inner power in the life and feelings of the
inhabitants of the Apennine peninsula. Even if the fascinating and
intoxicating orchestral coloring of the great Bayreuth master is not
without effect on the sensuous Italian, his music cannot be fully
understood until a regular and thorough study of the classic composers,
including Schumann, shall have become a second nature with the Italians.
Meanwhile the realists, having invaded literary and artistic France,
found their way over the Alps, and many ardent emulators of their methods
are to be found among Italian artists. Cremona and Domenico Morelli among
the painters, and the two daring Sicilian authors, Giovanni Verga and
Luigi Capuana, have been the chief representatives of the movement. About
1878, Verga published a volume of Sicilian peasant sketches, powerful and
attractive, imbued with the warm and realistic coloring of his native
soil. Curiously enough, these clever little sketches, which bear in
themselves the germ of effective libretti, had never been made to serve
for operatic plots, probably on account of their small dimensions and too
realistic contents, until a strange contingency led many young composers
to make use of them. The music publisher, Sonzogno of Milan, a man of
great wealth and enterprise, having for a considerable time been aware
of the fruitless attempts of young national composers to produce their
operas, instituted a competition for short operas in one act. About ten
of the competitors went to Verga's rich novel-collection for the plot of
their musical compositions. As everybody knows, Pietro Mascagni was the
fortunate winner with his now world-famous "Cavalleria rusticana." The
subject is a happy one for a one-act opera. Within a very short space of
time a powerful dramatic action, with all the glowing and varied Southern
coloring, takes place. It is the old, old story, already a thousand
times told, of love's conquest and faithlessness, and the natural tragic
consequences. The scene is laid in a country of daggers and stiletti.
There is no practical use in applying the critical dissecting knife to
prove that the enormous success with which the "Cavalleria" met was
disproportionate to the real value of the work. We think that never
since the beginning of opera has a work by a youthful composer had such
a large and international popularity, bringing at the same time nearly
an independent fortune to the composer. Before Mascagni competed for
the Sonzogno prize his little family was actually starving, and he had
not money enough to hire the piano so necessary to the exercise of his
profession.
[Illustration: PIETRO MASCAGNI.
Reproduction of a lithograph portrait.]
The particular and very uncertain success of Mascagni's second opera,
"Amico Fritz," was a great disappointment to those who had looked upon
the young author as a coming king in the realm of opera. But the great
triumph of his third work, "I Rantzau," produced at Florence in November,
1892, has revived the hope that Mascagni is not merely a lucky child
of fortune, but that he possesses an out-spoken musical and dramatic
individuality. That he is only an opera composer is beyond a doubt. The
sudden changes in stage situation, the sharp contrasts, and, above all,
the musical scene-painting which he does with coarse but sure brush,
these are factors whose fitness to the genius of Mascagni stamps him as
wholly in the trend of his theatrical talent. The chief significance
of the new opera, "I Rantzau," lies, in our opinion, in the fact that
Mascagni has at last composed something which seems to be the product of
a personal and characteristic style.
There are two other composers whose reputations are still young, one of
whom, Giordano, has been brought to public attention through the Sonzogno
competition. The other, Leoncavallo, a man of literary as well as musical
gifts, was able to choose the most practical way of introducing himself
as an operatic composer, by paying the expenses of the performance of
his opera, "I Pagliacci," at the Teatro del Verme in Milan. The work
had an almost unparalleled success. We may well believe that this opera
will, in the course of time, enjoy even greater popularity than attended
its fortunate twin sister, "Cavalleria Rusticana." Leoncavallo himself
wrote the text of his opera. Giordano treated another sketch of the Verga
collection. In this work, "Malavita," he displays all the qualities
required by an operatic composer--rapid musical development, broadly
melodious phrasing, great variety of coloring, and vivid, sparkling
rhythm, both in vocal and instrumental writing. There is every hope
that Giordano, if his further artistic and musical development should
fully realize its brilliant promise, may one day rank among the most
prominent of Italian stage composers. But neither Mascagni nor Giordano
can reach the surprising and striking originality found in Leoncavallo's
"Pagliacci." W. von Sachs, a well-known New York critic, attended in
Vienna a performance of "Pagliacci," and we have from him the opinion
that Ruggero Leoncavallo may be called the head of the new Milanese
school of composers. The plot, founded partly on the "Drama Nuevo" of
Estibanez, and in its essential details not unlike the French play
"Tabarin," presents the oft tried experiment of a play within a play.
The hero is a mountebank who, deceived by his faithless wife, enacts in
earnest the mimic scenes of jealousy. The principal characters, five in
number, as in the "Cavalleria," belong, with one exception, to a company
of strolling players, who, in the typical roles of the old Italian
_comedia dell' arte_, tell in pantomime the familiar tale of deception,
jealousy and revenge. There is to be noted in the condensed, picturesque
action of this opera, an evident attempt to reproduce the more striking
characteristics of Mascagni's work. Many of the latter's distinguishing
musical methods are used, though without sacrifice of originality of
musical idea. Like Mascagni, Leoncavallo has more than a superficial
acquaintance with Wagner's works, and the great master's example can
surely be traced to the fact that he, too, is the author of his own
libretto. In each of these most modern operas of "Cavalleria," "Tilda,"
"Malavita" and "Pagliacci," a keen striving after the new realistic is to
be observed. Each work has met with unqualified success, and this success
has been certified by the approbation of such a critical body of judges
as gathered at Vienna on the occasion of the Theatrical Exhibition.
The secret of such phenomenal successes lies partly in the rapid advance
toward the denouement, in a frank and rich melodious flow of catching
phrases, but mainly in the fact that all these young composers belong to
the class of musical realists. Their works, then, are powerful because
they conform to the spirit of the age. Lastly, their authors have an
instinctive knowledge of stage effect, which enables them to use to the
best advantage the materials at their disposal.
We recognize in these products of the present time the possibilities of
a great musical advance for Italy. The younger composers, unlike their
predecessors, have zealously studied the technique of composition with
truly international breadth of interest. It is also to be noted that this
same generation has completely freed itself from the idolatrous worship
of Wagner. Those phases of Wagner's genius which should not be imitated
have been shunned, and the Italians have turned to the passionately
melodious song-phrase, which is truly characteristic of their nature.
They have returned, in a word, to their own feelings and their own
inspirations, as well as to their own belief in the power of rapid stage
action. Although elaborate musical workmanship has never been a prominent
feature of Italian composers, much has nevertheless been done in later
years to improve matters in this respect. There is therefore reason to
hope, that, if once the system of musical education can be founded on
a solid basis, the most gratifying results may follow in Italian music
of the future. The inhabitants of the Apennine peninsula, with their
sensuous nature, their musical language, and their overflowing love for
singing and music in general, must perforce continue to cultivate an art
without which their life as a nation would be incomplete.
[Illustration: Martin Roeder]
[Illustration: JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH
_Reproduction of a steel engraving by Sichling, after an oil portrait by
Haussmann, in 1746._]
[Illustration: BACH]
[Illustration]
JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH
The question of physical and mental heredity is one which at the present
day not only challenges the investigation of the learned, but is actively
discussed in the wider circles of cultivated society. No better example
can be cited in support of the affirmative side of this question, than
the family of Johann Sebastian Bach, in which, for the space of not less
than two hundred and fifty years, musical talent of a high order was
transmitted from one generation to another. Displaying itself for the
first time in the sixteenth century, the gift grew more and more marked
until it reached its culminating point in the subject of this memoir, but
began to dwindle in his posterity and disappeared entirely in the last
descendant of the race, who died in Berlin in 1845.
For a long time the erroneous idea was almost universally accepted, that
the Bachs originated in Hungary and had emigrated to Thuringia in the
second half of the sixteenth century. In reality, however, the family
was of pure German extraction and had established itself before the time
of the Reformation on the northeastern slope of the Thuringian forest.
Wechmar, a village in the neighborhood of Gotha, was the residence of
the immediate progenitors of Sebastian Bach, and the first of these
concerning whose musical proclivities we have any information were Veit
and Caspar Bach. The former had learned the trade of a baker and miller,
and, while absent on his travels, he took occasion to visit Hungary, but
soon returned to his native village. Here, when the labors of the day
were ended, he devoted himself to playing on the zither for amusement.
Hans Bach, his son, born about 1580, adopted music as a profession,
after having received instruction from the town musician of Gotha,
Caspar Bach, presumably his uncle, and, by way of subsidiary occupation,
he plied the trade of a carpet-weaver. With his cherished violin for a
companion, it was his habit to roam far and wide throughout Thuringia,
making the strains of his instrument resound wherever a joyous company
was found assembled. A jovial fellow, full of merry jests, he soon became
universally popular in the region, and the musical importance of the Bach
family was perceptibly increased through the inherited ability of his
three sons, Johann, Christoph and Heinrich. Several musicians of note
are also to be counted among the descendants of a brother of Hans, of
whom Johann Ludwig Bach, who died in 1741 while occupying the position of
Capellmeister in Meiningen, deserves special mention.
But the gift for music which had impressed its stamp upon the race
was exhibited in a still greater degree by the three brothers already
referred to, Johann, Christoph and Heinrich Bach. Christoph, born in
1613, became _Stadt-Musikant_ in Erfurt, and later was transferred to
Arnstadt, where Heinrich, born in 1615, was established as organist.
Johann, born in 1604, discharged the double office of town-musician
and organist in Erfurt. All three, it will be seen, united in turning
their attention to instrumental music in general and to church music in
particular, cultivating more especially the science of organ-playing, and
it may here be remarked that no one of their descendants up to the time
of Sebastian Bach departed from this sphere of activity. It was in this
great man that true German art first sought expression, and therefore
the family in its totality must forever be regarded as an embodiment of
the artistic aspiration of the nation. Singularly enough, neither the
three brothers, nor their sons and grandchildren, were ever moved by
the desire to visit Italy, although so many of their comrades in art
were constantly repairing thither. The splendors of the royal courts of
Germany were equally powerless to attract; they perseveringly employed
their talents in the service of their fellow citizens, faithful alike in
their ecclesiastical and civil relations, and bearing with patience the
privations to which they were often subjected. During the lifetime of the
trio of brothers, three principal gathering-places for the continually
increasing branches of the family were appointed, at Erfurt, Arnstadt
and Eisenach respectively, and between these three towns there was a
constant interchange of visits. If a piece of good-fortune came to any
one in either place, he called upon the others to follow him, or, falling
into distress, he hastened away in order to try his fate anew under the
sheltering care of his kinsmen. In this way the bond of family union was
closely cemented between them. In Erfurt, the brothers and their children
were able to hold in exclusive possession for a century all musical
positions in the gift of the government, and even fifty years later, the
town musicians in the place continued to be called "the Bachs," although
there was no longer any one among them who bore the name. One branch of
the family was permanently established in Arnstadt until 1739, another
in Eisenach till 1777, where some of its descendants still remained only
twenty years ago, though no longer following the profession of their
ancestors. In summing up the qualities of this race of musicians, it
is not too much to say that they exhibited the most salient features
of the Thuringian type of character, and, with the exception of one of
the descendants of Christoph Bach, who settled on Frankish soil, no
disposition was ever shown to depart from the region which gave them
birth. Indeed, so strongly possessed were they by the necessity of
occasionally seeing one another face to face, that for a long time it
was their custom to appoint a day in every year, on which the masculine
members of the family should assemble in one of the chosen centers. The
many happy hours which they passed together on these occasions were
devoted to the narration of their respective experiences, interspersed
with music as a means of recreation. They generally began with the
singing of a choral, which was followed by livelier airs, often set to
words free and unconstrained. They were especially fond of "quodlibets,"
a kind of musical medley, more or less skillfully composed of every sort
of merry popular melody, or, as frequently happened, the singers depended
upon their own powers of improvisation. Taken as a whole, the Bachs were
characterized by a strong love of pleasure, which, however, was by no
means incompatible with their sincere and fervent piety.