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THE
Standard Cantatas
THEIR STORIES, THEIR MUSIC, AND THEIR COMPOSERS
_A Handbook_
By GEORGE P. UPTON
AUTHOR OF
"THE STANDARD OPERAS," "THE STANDARD ORATORIOS," "WOMAN IN MUSIC," ETC.
CHICAGO
A. C. McCLURG AND COMPANY
1888
Copyright
By A. C. McClurg and Co.
A.D. 1887
PREFACE.
The "Standard Cantatas" is the third of the series in which the "Standard
Operas" and "Standard Oratorios" have been its predecessors. Of
necessity, therefore, the same method has been followed in the
arrangement and presentation of the author's scheme. As in the works
above mentioned, short sketches of the music and stories of the cantatas
are presented, together with biographies of their composers, some of
which are reproduced from the other volumes with slight changes, the
repetitions being necessary for the sake of uniformity. The sketches are
prefaced by a comprehensive study of the cantata in its various forms,
from its early simple recitative or aria style down to its present
elaborate construction, which sometimes verges closely upon that of the
opera or oratorio.
The word "cantata" is so flexible and covers such a wide area in music,
that it has been a work of some difficulty to decide upon the
compositions that properly come within the scheme of this volume. During
the past two centuries it has been variously applied to songs, like those
of the early Italian school; to ballads, like those of the early English
composers; to concert arias, like those of Mozart, Beethoven, and
Mendelssohn; to short operettas, dramatic scenas, cycles of ballads, and
even to oratorios, whose subjects are more or less dramatic. It is
believed, however, that the most important of the modern cantatas are
included in the volume, and with them will be found several works, such
as the "Damnation of Faust" and the "Romeo and Juliet" vocal symphony and
others, which, though not in the strict cantata form, are nevertheless
compositions belonging to the concert-stage for voices and orchestra,
performed without scenery, costumes, or stage accessories.
The author has paid particular attention to cantatas by American
composers, and has selected for description and analysis those which in
his estimation rank the highest in musical merit. It would be manifestly
impossible to include in a volume of the present size all the
compositions by Americans which have been called cantatas, for their
number is well-nigh "legion." Those have been selected which are
creditable to American musical scholarship and are making a name for
American music. It is possible some have been omitted which fulfil these
conditions; if so, it is only because they have not come within the
author's observation. The Appendix has been a work of great care, labor,
and research, and wherever it was practicable the date of each cantata
was verified.
Like its two predecessors, the "Standard Cantatas" has been prepared for
the general public, which has not the time or opportunity to investigate
such matters, rather than for musicians, who are presumed to be familiar
with them. On this account the text is made as untechnical as possible,
and description takes the place of criticism. The work is intended to
answer the purpose of a handbook and guide which shall acquaint the
reader with the principal facts and accomplishments in this very
interesting form of composition. The favor so generously accorded to the
"Standard Operas" and "Standard Oratorios" leads the author to hope that
this volume will also be welcome to music-lovers, and will find a place
by the side of its companions in their libraries.
G. P. U.
Chicago, September, 1887.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
PREFACE 3
THE CANTATA 13
BACH 29
Ich Hatte viel Bekümmerniss 31
Gottes Zeit 33
Festa Ascensionis Christi 37
Ein' Feste Burg 38
BALFE 44
Mazeppa 45
BEETHOVEN 48
The Ruins of Athens 49
The Glorious Moment 53
BENEDICT 56
St. Cecilia 57
BENNETT 62
The May Queen 64
The Exhibition Ode 66
BERLIOZ 68
Romeo and Juliet 70
The Damnation of Faust 74
BRAHMS 82
Triumphlied 83
BRUCH 86
Frithjof 87
Salamis 92
Fair Ellen 93
Odysseus 95
BUCK 101
Don Munio 103
Centennial Meditation of Columbia 106
The Golden Legend 109
The Voyage of Columbus 114
The Light of Asia 117
CORDER 123
The Bridal of Triermain 124
COWEN 128
The Sleeping Beauty 129
DVORÁK 134
The Spectre's Bride 136
FOOTE 140
Hiawatha 141
GADE 143
Comala 144
Spring Fantasie 146
The Erl King's Daughter 147
The Crusaders 149
GILCHRIST 153
The Forty-sixth Psalm 154
GLEASON 156
The Culprit Fay 157
The Praise Song To Harmony 161
HANDEL 163
Acis and Galatea 166
Alexander's Feast 173
L'Allegro 178
HATTON 186
Robin Hood 187
HAYDN 191
The Seven Words 194
Ariadne 198
HILLER 201
Song of Victory 203
HOFMANN 205
Melusina 206
LESLIE 209
Holyrood 210
LISZT 215
Prometheus 217
The Bells of Strasburg 221
MACFARREN 226
Christmas 228
MACKENZIE 232
The Story of Sayid 233
Jubilee Ode 237
MASSENET 241
Mary Magdalen 242
MENDELSSOHN 246
The Walpurgis Night 248
Antigone 254
Oedipus at Colonos 259
As the Hart Pants 262
The Gutenberg Fest-Cantata 263
Lauda Sion 265
MOZART 268
King Thamos 270
Davidde Penitente 274
The Masonic Cantatas 276
PAINE 280
Oedipus Tyrannus 281
The Nativity 286
The Realm of Fancy 288
Phoebus, Arise 289
PARKER, H. W. 291
King Trojan 292
PARKER, J. C. D. 295
The Redemption Hymn 296
RANDEGGER 298
Fridolin 299
RHEINBERGER 303
Christophorus 304
Toggenburg 306
ROMBERG 308
Lay of the Bell 309
SCHUBERT 313
Miriam's War Song 314
SCHUMANN 317
Advent Hymn 319
The Pilgrimage of the Rose 321
The Minstrel's Curse 322
SINGER 324
The Landing of the Pilgrims 325
SMART 327
The Bride of Dunkerron 328
King René's Daughter 330
SULLIVAN 332
On Shore and Sea 334
The Golden Legend 335
WAGNER 338
Love Feast of the Apostles 340
WEBER 342
Jubilee Cantata 344
Kampf Und Sieg 346
WHITING 348
The Tale of the Viking 349
APPENDIX 353
INDEX 365
THE STANDARD CANTATAS.
THE CANTATA.
The origin of the cantata is a matter of controversy, but it is clear
that it had its birth in Italy. Adami, an old writer, attributes its
invention to Giovanni Domenico Poliaschi Romano, a papal chapel-singer,
who, it is claimed, wrote several cantatas as early as 1618. The same
writer also asserts that the Cavalier da Spoleto, a singer in the same
service, published cantatas in 1620. Hawkins asserts in one chapter of
his "History of Music" that the invention is due to Carissimi,
chapel-master of the Church of St. Apollinare in Rome, who unquestionably
did an important service for dramatic music by perfecting recitative and
introducing stringed accompaniments; but in a subsequent chapter the
historian states that Barbara Strozzi, a Venetian lady contemporary with
Carissimi, was the inventor, and assigns the year 1653 as the date when
she published certain vocal compositions with the title "Cantate, Ariette
e Duetti," prefixed by an advertisement setting forth that having
invented this form of music, she had published them as an experiment.
Burney takes notice of the claim made for Romano and Da Spoleto, but does
not think it valid, and says: "The first time that I have found the term
'cantata' used for a short narrative lyric poem was in the _Musiche varie
a voce sola del Signor Benedetto Ferrari da Reggio_, printed at Venice,
1638." This, as will be observed, disposes of the Venetian lady's claim,
as it is antedated twenty years, and Burney states his facts from
personal investigation. He mentions several cantatas written about this
period, among them a burlesque one describing the leap of Marcus Curtius
into the gulf. He concedes to Carissimi, however, the transfer of the
cantata from the chamber to the church, and on this point nearly all the
early writers are agreed.
The cantata in its earliest form was a recitative, which speedily
developed into a mixture of recitative and melody for a single voice, and
was suggested by the lyric opera. Burney says:--
"The chief events were related in recitative. In like manner they
received several progressive changes during the last century previous
to their perfection. First, they consisted, like opera scenes, of
little more than recitative, with frequent formal closes, at which the
singer, either accompanied by himself or another performer on a single
instrument, was left at liberty to show his taste and talents."
The form then changed to a single air in triple time, independent of the
recitative, and repeated to the different verses as in a ballad, the
melody being written every time, as the _Da Capo_ was not then in use.[1]
Choron defines the cantata as follows:--
"It is a little poem, which, considered in a literary sense, has no
very determinate character, though it is usually the recital of a
simple and interesting fact interspersed with reflections or the
expression of some particular sentiment. It may be in all styles and
all characters, sacred, profane, heroic, comic, and even ludicrous,
representing the action or feeling of either a single or several
persons. It even sometimes assumes the character of the oratorio."
As applied to recitative, the new form was variously called "recitativo,"
"musica parlante," or "stilo rappresentativo," one of the first works in
which style was "The Complaint of Dido," by the Cavalier Sigismondo
d'India, printed in Venice in 1623. The mixture of recitative and air was
eventually called "ariose cantate;" and with this title several melodies
were printed by Sebastian Enno at Venice, 1655.[2]
The seventeenth century witnessed the rapid perfecting of the cantata in
its early forms by the Italian composers. The best examples are said to
have been those of Carissimi, of whom mention has already been made.
Several of them are preserved in the British Museum and at Oxford; among
them, one written on the death of Mary Queen of Scots. Burney says:--
"Of twenty-two of his cantatas preserved in the Christ Church
collection, Oxon., there is not one which does not offer something that
is still new, curious, and pleasing; but most particularly in the
recitatives, many of which seem the most expressive, affecting, and
perfect that I have seen. In the airs there are frequently sweet and
graceful passages, which more than a hundred years have not impaired."
Of the thirteenth in this collection the same authority says:--
"This single air, without recitative, seems the archetype of almost all
the _arie di cantabile_, the adagios, and pathetic songs, as well as
instrumental, slow movements, that have since been made."
Fra Marc Antonio Cesti, in his later life a monk in the monastery of
Arezzo, and chapel-master of the Emperor Ferdinand III., was a pupil of
Carissimi, and devoted much attention to the cantata, the recitative of
which he greatly improved. One of his most celebrated compositions of
this kind was entitled, "O cara Liberta," and selections from it are
given both by Burney and Hawkins. He must have been one of the jolly
monks of old, for all his cantatas are secular in character, and he was
frequently censured for devoting so much time to theatrical instead of
church music. Luigi Rossi was contemporary with Cesti, and has left
several cantatas which are conspicuous for length and pedantry rather
than for elegance or melodious charm. Giovanni Legrenzi of Bergamo, the
master of Lotti and Gasparini, published twenty-four cantatas in Venice
between 1674 and 1679, which were great favorites in his time. The
celebrated painter Salvator Rosa not only wrote the words for many
cantatas by his musical friends, but it is known that he composed both
words and music to eight. The texts of these works have preserved for
posterity pictures more graphic than any he could paint of his
misanthropical character; for when he is not railing against his mistress
he is launching satires against Nature and mankind in general. In one of
these he complains that the earth is barren and the sun is dark. If he
goes out to see a friend, it always rains. If he goes on shipboard, it
always storms. If he buys provisions at the market, the bones outweigh
the flesh. If he goes to court--
"The attendants at my dress make sport;
Point at my garb, threadbare and shabby,
And shun me, like a leper scabby."
His only wealth is hope, which points to nothing better than "workhouse
or a rope." In the heat of summer he has to trudge in winter clothes. He
cannot even run away from misfortune. In a word, nothing pleases the poor
painter, as is evident from the gloomy moral which "adorns the tale":--
"Then learn from me, ye students all,
Whose wants are great and hopes are small,
That better 'tis at once to die
Than linger thus in penury;
For 'mongst the ills with which we're curst,
To live a beggar is the worst."
In 1703 Giambatista Bassani, of Bologna, published twelve cantatas
devoted to the tender passion, and all of them set to a violin
accompaniment,--a practice first introduced by Scarlatti, of Naples, who
was one of the most prolific writers of his day. The cantata was
Scarlatti's favorite form of composition, and hundreds of them came from
his busy pen, which were noted for their beauty and originality. The
accompaniments were written for the violoncello as well as for the
violin; those for the first-named instrument were so difficult and yet so
excellent that those who could perform them were often thought to have
supernatural assistance.[3] Contemporary with Scarlatti was Francesco
Gasparini, a Roman composer and harpsichord player of such eminence that
Scarlatti sent his son Domenico, who afterwards became famous by his
musical achievements, to study with him. Gasparini wrote twelve
cantatas,--not so scholarly but quite as popular as those by Scarlatti.
As a return for the compliment which Scarlatti had paid him,
Gasparini sent him a cantata, which was the signal for a lively
cantata-correspondence between them, each trying to outdo the other.
Following Gasparini came Bononcini, whose contentions with Handel in
England are familiar to all musical readers. He was the most prolific
cantata-writer of all the Italians next to Scarlatti, and dedicated a
volume of them, in 1721, to the King of England. He also published in
Germany a large number which show great knowledge of instrumentation,
according to the musical historians of his time. Antonio Lotti, his
contemporary, wrote several which are particularly noticeable for their
harmony. His pupil Benedetto Marcello, the illustrious psalm-composer,
excelled his master in this form of music. Two of his cantatas, "Il
Timoteo" (after Dryden's ode) and "Cassandra," were very celebrated. He
was of noble family, and is famous even to this day by his masses,
serenades, and sonnets, and by his beautiful poetical and musical
paraphrase of the Psalms, which was translated into English, German, and
Russian. The Baron d'Astorga, whose "Stabat Mater" is famous, wrote many
cantatas, but they do not reach the high standard of that work. Antonio
Caldara, for many years composer to the Emperor at Vienna, published a
volume of them at Venice in 1699. Porpora, who was a rival of Handel in
England as an opera composer, published and dedicated twelve to the
Prince of Wales in 1735 as a mark of gratitude for the support which he
had given him in his disputes with the testy German.[4] After Pergolesi,
who made himself famous by his "Stabat Mater," and published several
cantatas at Rome, and Handel, who wrote many, which were eclipsed by his
operas and oratorios, and are now hardly known, this style of the cantata
languished, and gradually passed into the form of the concert aria, of
which fine examples are to be found in the music of Mozart, Beethoven,
and Mendelssohn. After the death of Pergolesi, Sarti and Paisiello made
an attempt to revive it, and in so doing prepared the way for the cantata
in its beautiful modern form. In the latter's "Guinone Lucina," written
for the churching of Caroline of Austria, Queen of Naples, and in his
"Dafne ed Alceo" and "Retour de Persée" the melody is intermixed with
choruses for the first time.
Thus far the Italian cantatas have alone been considered; but it must not
be supposed that this form of composition was confined to Italy. In
France it was also a favorite style in the early part of the eighteenth
century. Montclair, Campra, Mouret, Batistin, Clerambault, and Rousseau
excelled in it. M. Ginguené, in the "Encyclopædia Methodique," says of
these composers and their works:--
"They have left collections in which may be discovered among all the
faults of the age, when Italian music was unknown in France, much art
and knowledge of harmony, happy traits of melody, well-worked basses,
and above all recitatives in which the accent of declamation and the
character of the language are strictly observed."
In Germany, however, the cantata at this time was approximating to its
present form. Koch, a celebrated musical scholar of the early part of the
present century, says:--
"The cantata is a lyrical poem set to music in different, alternating
compositions, and sung with the accompaniment of instrumental music.
The various melodies of which the whole is composed are the aria, with
its subordinate species, the recitative or accompaniment, and the
arioso, frequently also intermixed with choruses."
Heydenreich, another writer of the same period, says:--
"The cantata is always lyrical. Its distinctive character lies in the
aptitude of the passions and feelings which it contains to be rendered
by music. The cantata ought to be a harmonious whole of ideas
poetically expressed, concurring to paint a main passion or feeling,
susceptible of various kinds and degrees of musical expression. It
sometimes may have the character of the hymn or ode, sometimes that of
the elegy, or of a mixture of these, in which, however, one particular
emotion must predominate."
The church cantata, according to Du Cange, dates back to 1314; but
subsequent writers have shown that the term prior to the seventeenth
century was used indiscriminately and without reference to any
well-defined style of vocal music, and that as applied to church
compositions it meant the anthem such as we now have, although not as
elaborate. The noblest examples of the sacred cantata are those by
Sebastian Bach, three hundred and eighty in all, over a hundred of which
have been published under the auspices of the Bach-Gesellschaft. They are
written in from four to seven movements for four voices and full
orchestra, usually opening with chorus and closing with a chorale, the
intermediate movements being in the form of recitatives, arias, and
duets. The text of these cantatas is either a literal transcription of
the Gospel or of portions of it. In the latter case the Gospel of the
Sunday for which the cantata was written is introduced entire in the body
of the work as the nucleus around which the great composer grouped the
remaining parts. For instance, the cantata for Sexagesima Sunday turns
upon the parable of the sower, and this being the Gospel for the day is
made its central point. In like manner the cantata for the fourteenth
Sunday after Trinity has for its subject the story of the ten lepers,
which is introduced in recitative form in the middle of the work. The
astonishing industry of Bach is shown by the fact that for nearly five
years he produced a new cantata for each Sunday, in addition to his
numerous fugues, chorales, motets, magnificats, masses, sanctuses,
glorias, and other church music. The artistic sincerity and true genius
of the old master also reveal themselves in the skill with which he
finished these works for the congregation of St. Thomas,--few of whom, it
is to be feared, had any conception of their real merit,--and in the
untiring regularity with which he produced them, unrewarded by the
world's applause, and little dreaming that long years after he had passed
away they would be brought to light again, be published to the world, and
command its admiration and astonishment on account of their beauty and
scholarship.[5] Before passing to the consideration of the cantata in its
present form, the following abridged description of those written by
Bach, taken from Bitter's Life of the composer, will be of interest:--
"The directors who preceded Bach at Leipsic used to choose the cantatas
or motets to be sung in the churches quite arbitrarily, without any
regard to their connection with the rest of the service. But Bach felt
that unless these elaborate pieces of music were really made a means of
edification, they were mere intellectual pastimes suitable for a
concert, but an interruption to divine worship; and he thought that
they could best edify the congregation if their subjects were the
themes to which attention was specially directed in the service and
sermon of the day. He therefore made it a rule to ascertain from the
clergymen of the four churches the texts of the sermons for the
following Sunday, and to choose cantatas on the same or corresponding
texts. As most of the clergy were in the habit of preaching on the
Gospel of the day, the service thus became a harmonious whole, and the
attention of the congregation was not divided between a variety of
subjects. The clergyman of highest standing at Leipsic, Superintendent
Deyling, a preacher of great eloquence and theological learning,
co-operated heartily with Bach in this scheme. A series of cantatas for
every Sunday and festival for five years--about three hundred and
eighty in all--was composed by Bach, chiefly during the first years of
his stay at Leipsic. Unfortunately many of these are lost; but one
hundred and eighty-six for particular days, and thirty-two without any
days specified, still remain. Their music is so completely in character
with the subject of the words as to form a perfect exposition of the
text. In some the orchestral introductions and accompaniments are made
illustrative of the scene of the text; as for instance in one on
Christ's appearing to His disciples in the evening after His
resurrection, the introduction is of a soft, calming character,
representing the peacefulness of evening and of the whole scene.
Another, on the text 'Like as the rain and snow fall from heaven,' is
introduced by a symphony in which the sound of gently-falling rain is
imitated. In others the instrumental parts and some of the voices
express the feelings excited by meditation on the words. Sometimes, in
the midst of a chorus in which the words of the text are repeated, and,
as it were, commented on, a single voice, with the accompaniment of a
few instruments, breaks off into some well-known hymn in a similar
strain of thought or feeling."
Handel in his younger days wrote many cantatas for the church, though
they are now but little known. The entire list numbers one hundred and
fifty. On his return from England to his post of chapel-master at Hanover
in 1711 he composed twelve, known as the Hanover cantatas, for the
Princess Caroline, the words written by the Abbé Hortentio Mauro, to
which no objection was offered by Handel's master and patron,
notwithstanding he was a Lutheran prince. Several written in England are
still preserved in the royal collections. On Holy Week of the year 1704,
the same week in which Reinhardt Kaiser brought out his famous Passion
oratorio, "The Bleeding and Dying Jesus," Handel's Passion cantata was
first produced. Kaiser's work had been denounced as secular by the
pastors, because it did not contain the words of Holy Scripture. Handel's
was founded on the nineteenth chapter of St. John, and thus escaped the
pulpit denunciation. This cantata is sometimes called the First Passion
Oratorio, the second having been written at Hamburg in 1716.[6] In 1707
Handel was in Florence, where he wrote several cantatas, and thence went
to Rome, where he produced some church music in the same form, notably
the "Dixit Dominus," for five voices and orchestra; "Nisi Dominus," also
for five voices; and "Laudate pueri," for solos and full orchestral
accompaniment. The famous anthems written for the private chapel of James
Brydges, Duke of Chandos, familiarly known as the Chandos Anthems, are in
reality cantatas, as each one is preceded by an overture and in its
structural form comprises solos, choruses, and instrumentation for full
band and choir. It is also noteworthy that it was during Handel's
residence at the Duke's palace at Cannons that he wrote his first English
oratorio, the legitimate successor of the Chandos Anthems, and the
precursor of the great works destined to immortalize his name.
The cantatas left by Haydn are mainly secular in character; but it may
well be imagined that during the days of his early married life, when his
fanatical and termagant spouse was forcing him to write so much music for
the priests and monks whom she entertained so sumptuously below-stairs
while he was laboring above, more than one cantata must have come from
his pen, which would have been preserved had he not reluctantly parted
company with them to pacify his wife.
The term "cantata," as it is now used, is very elastic, and covers a
range of compositions which are too large to be considered as dramatic
arias or ballads,--though ballads are sometimes written for various
voices and orchestra,--and too small to be called operas or oratorios. It
can best be defined, perhaps, as a lyric narrative, sacred, didactic, or
dramatic in character, set to music for the concert stage only, being
without _dramatis personæ_ in the theatrical acceptation of those words.
Its general form is that of the oratorio, being for solo voices, usually
the quartet, full chorus, and orchestra, though its shortness as compared
with the oratorio adapts it to performance by a small chorus, and
sometimes with only piano accompaniment. Among the most perfect forms of
the modern cantatas are such works as Mendelssohn's "Walpurgis Night,"
Sterndale Bennett's "May Queen," Max Bruch's "Odysseus" and "Frithjof's
Saga," Cowen's "Sleeping Beauty," Gade's "Comala," Hiller's "Song of
Victory," Romberg's somewhat antiquated "Song of the Bell," Sullivan's
"Golden Legend," Randegger's "Fridolin," and Dudley Buck's "Don Munio"
and "Light of Asia." But besides such as these there are numerous other
works, not usually classed as cantatas, which clearly belong to the same
musical family; such as Berlioz's "Damnation of Faust," Brahms's
"Triumphlied," Mendelssohn's settings of various Psalms, Handel's "Acis
and Galatea" and "Alexander's Feast," Hofmann's "Melusina," Liszt's
"Prometheus," Rheinberger's "Toggenberg," Schubert's "Song of Miriam,"
Schumann's ballads and "Advent Hymn," and Weber's "Kampf und Sieg." These
and others of the same kin are drawn upon as illustrations and for
analysis in the pages which follow.
Considering the possibilities of the cantata, its adaptability to every
form of narrative, and the musical inducements it holds out, particularly
in these days, when a new opera or oratorio must be of extraordinary
merit to suit the public, it is somewhat remarkable that no more of them
are written. Mr. Charles Barnard has made this point very aptly and
forcibly in a short article printed in the "Century" for January, 1886,
in which he urges the cantata form of composition upon our writers, and
makes many excellent suggestions.[7] It is certainly an inviting field,
especially to American composers, among whom but three or four have as
yet produced works of this kind possessing real merit.
[1] Its first use is to be found in the opera of "Enea," performed at
Genoa in 1676. Before 1680 it was universally adopted.
[2] It is noteworthy that in this volume occur for the first time the
musical terms "adagio," "piu adagio," "affetuoso," "presto," and
"allegro." In the "Cantate da Camera a voce sola," published at
Bologna (1677) by Gio. Bat. Mazzaferrata, the terms "vivace,"
"largo," and "ardito" are also found for the first time.
[3] Geminiani used to relate that Franceschelli, a celebrated performer
on the violoncello at the beginning of this century, accompanied one
of these cantatas at Rome so admirably, while Scarlatti was at the
harpsichord, that the company, being good Catholics, and living in a
country where miraculous powers have not yet ceased, were firmly
persuaded it was not Franceschelli who had played the violoncello,
but an angel that had descended and assumed his shape.--_Burney's
History_, vol. iv. p. 169 (1789).
[4] Doctor Arbuthnot, in a humorous pamphlet called out by the operatic
war, entitled "Harmony in an Uproar," calls Handel the Nightingale,
and Porpora the Cuckoo.
[5] It is curious to remember that the sacred cantatas were not composed
for universal fame or for a musical public, but for the use of
congregations who probably looked on them as a necessary part of the
service, and thought little about the merits of their composition. In
those days art-criticism was in its infancy, and they were scarcely
noticed beyond the walls of Leipsic till after the composer's
death.--_Bitter's Life of Bach_.
[6] Handel's Second German Passion, as it is now generally called,
differs entirely from the earlier Passion according to St. John, and
bears no analogy at all to the Passion Music of Sebastian Bach. The
choruses are expressive or vigorous in accordance with the nature of
the words; but none exhibit any very striking form of contrapuntal
development; nor do they ever rise to the grandeur of the Utrecht Te
Deum or Jubilate.--_Rockstro's Life of Handel_.
[7] The following list of cantatas by Americans hardly sustains Mr.
Barnard in his assertion that there are but a few of them: Baker, B.
F., "Burning Ship;" "Storm King."--Bechel, J. C., "Pilgrim's
Progress;" "The Nativity;" "Ruth."--Bradbury, W. B.,
"Esther."--Brandeis, F., "The Ring."--Bristow, G. F., "The Pioneers;"
"No More."--Buck, Dudley, "Don Munio;" "Centennial;" "Easter
Cantatas;" "The Golden Legend;" "Light of Asia;" "Voyage of
Columbus."--Butterfield, J. A., "Belshazzar;" "Ruth."--Chadwick, G.
W., "The Viking's Last Voyage."--Damrosch, Leopold, "Ruth and Naomi;"
"Sulamith."--Foote, A., "Hiawatha."--Gilchrist, W. W., "Forty-sixth
Psalm;" "The Rose."--Gleason, F. G., "God our Deliverer;" "Culprit
Fay;" "Praise of Harmony."--Hamerik, A., "Christmas
Cantata."--Leavitt, W. J. D., "The Lord of the Sea;" "Cambyses; or,
the Pearl of Persia."--Marsh, S. B., "The Saviour;" "King of the
Forest."--Paine, J. K., "Oedipus Tyrannus;" "The Nativity;" "Phoebus,
Arise;" "Realm of Fancy."--Parker, J. G., "Redemption Hymn."--Parker,
H. W., "King Trojan."--Pratt, S. G., "Inca's Downfall."--Root, G. F.,
"Flower Queen;" "Daniel;" "Pilgrim Fathers;" "Belshazzar's Feast;"
"Haymakers;" "Song Tournament;" "David."--Singer, Otto, "Landing of
the Pilgrim Fathers;" "Festival Ode."--Trajetta, Philip, "The
Christian's Joy;" "Prophecy;" "The Nativity;" "Day of
Rest."--Whiting, G. E., "Dream Pictures;" "Tale of the Viking;"
"Lenora;" and many others.
BACH.
Johann Sebastian Bach, the most eminent of the world's organ-players and
contrapuntists, was born at Eisenach, March 21, 1685, and was the most
illustrious member of a long line of musicians, the Bach family having
been famous almost from time immemorial for its skill in music. He first
studied the piano with his brother, Johann Christoph, and the organ with
Reinecke in Hamburg, and Buxtehude in Lübeck. In 1703 he was court
musician in Weimar, and afterwards was engaged as organist in Arnstadt
and Mühlhausen. In 1708 he was court organist, and in 1714 concert-master
in Weimar. In 1718 he was chapel-master to the Prince von Köthen, and in
1723 was appointed music-director and cantor at the St. Thomas School in
Leipsic,--a position which he held during the remainder of his life. He
has left for the admiration of posterity an almost endless list of vocal
and instrumental works, including cantatas, chorales, motets,
magnificats, masses, fugues, sonatas, and fantasies, the "Christmas
Oratorio," and several settings of the Passion, of which the most famous
are the "St. John" and "St. Matthew," the latter of which Mendelssohn
re-introduced to the world in 1829, after it had slumbered an entire
century. His most famous instrumental work is the "Well-tempered
Clavichord,"--a collection of forty-eight fugues and preludes, which was
written for his second wife, Anna Magdalena Bach, to whom he also
dedicated a large number of piano pieces and songs. His first wife was
his cousin, Maria Barbara Bach, the youngest daughter of Johann Michael
Bach, a composer of no common ability. By these two wives he had
twenty-one children, of whom the most celebrated were Carl Phillipp
Emanuel, born in 1714, known as the "Berlin Bach;" Johann Christoph
Friedrich, born in 1732, the "Bücheburger Bach;" and Johann Christian,
born in 1735, who became famous as the "London Bach." Large as the family
was, it is now extinct. Bach was industrious, simple, honest, and
God-fearing, like all his family. He was an incessant and laborious
writer from necessity, as his compensation was hardly sufficient to
maintain his large family, and nearly all his music was prepared for the
service of the church by contract. The prominent characteristics of his
work are profound knowledge, the clearest statements of form, strength of
logical sequences, imposing breadth, and deep religious sentiment. The
latter quality was the outcome of his intense religious nature. Upon
everyone of his principal compositions he inscribed "S. D. G.," "to the
glory of God alone." He died July 28, 1750, and was buried at Leipsic;
but no cross or stone marks the spot where he lies. His last composition
was the beautiful chorale, "Wenn wir in höchsten Nöthen sein," freely
translated, "When my last hour is close at hand," as it was written in
his last illness. The only record of his death is contained in the
official register: "A man, aged sixty-seven, M. Johann Sebastian Bach,
musical director and singing-master at the St. Thomas School, was carried
to his grave in the hearse, July 30, 1750."
Ich hatte viel Bekümmerniss.
The cantata with the above title, best known in English as "My Heart was
full of Heaviness," was the first sacred piece in this form which Bach
wrote. Its date is 1714, in which year he was living at Weimar, and its
composition grew out of a difficulty which he had with the elders of the
Liebfrauenkirche at Halle, touching his application for the position of
organist. It occasioned him great sorrow, and it was while in this sad
plight that he wrote the cantata. It was composed for the third Sunday
after Trinity, June 17, and consists of eleven numbers,--an instrumental
prelude, four choruses, three arias, a duet, and two recitatives.
The prelude, which is brief and quiet in character, introduces the
opening chorus ("Deep within my Heart was Sorrowing and great
Affliction"), which in turn leads to the first aria ("Sighing, Mourning,
Sorrow, Tears waste away my troubled Heart"), a tender and beautiful
number for soprano, with oboe and string accompaniment. It is followed by
the tenor recitative and aria, "Why hast Thou, O my God, in my sore Need
so turned Thy Face from me?" in which the feeling of sorrow is
intensified in utterance. The chorus, "Why, my Soul, art thou vexed?" a
very pathetic number, closes the mournful but beautiful first part of the
cantata.
The second part is more tranquil and hopeful. It opens with a duet for
soprano and bass, the two parts representing the soul and Christ, and
sustaining a most expressive dialogue, leading up to a richly harmonized
chorus ("O my Soul, be content and be thou peaceful") in which a chorale
is introduced with consummate skill. A graceful tenor aria with a
delightful and smoothly flowing accompaniment ("Rejoice, O my Soul,
change Weeping to Smiling") follows and leads to the final number, which
is based on the same subject as that of the "Hallelujah" in Handel's
"Messiah." All the voices give out the words, "The Lamb that for us is
slain, to Him will we render Power and Glory," with majestic effect;
after which the solo bass utters the theme, "Power and Glory and Praise
be unto Him forevermore," introducing the "Hallelujah," which closes the
work in a burst of tremendous power, by voices and instruments.
Gottes Zeit.
During the first half of the period in which Bach resided at Weimar,
occupying the position of court and chamber musician to Duke Wilhelm
Ernst, he wrote three cantatas in the old church form which are notable
as being the last he composed before adopting the newer style, and as the
most perfect of that kind extant. The first of these, "Nach dir, Herr,
verlanget mich," is based upon the first two verses of the Twenty-fifth
Psalm. The second, "Aus der Tiefe rufe ich," includes the whole of the
One hundred and thirtieth Psalm and two verses of the hymn "Herr Jesu
Christ, du höchstes Gut." The third and most famous of the trio, "Gottes
Zeit ist die allerbeste Zeit" ("God's time is the best of all"), is
generally known as the "Actus Tragicus," and sometimes as the "Mourning
Cantata." Of its origin Spitta says:--
"Judging by its contents it was designed for the mourning for some man,
probably of advanced age, to whom the song of Simeon could be suitably
applied. No such death took place in the ducal house at this time, for
Prince Johann Ernst died when a youth, and also when Bach's style of
composition had reached a different stage. Possibly the cantata has
reference to Magister Philipp Grossgebauer, the rector of the Weimar
school before its reorganization, who died in 1711; at least, I can
find no other suitable occasion. The contrast between the spirit of the
Old and New Testaments,--between the wrath of an avenging God and the
atoning love of Christ,--which had already appeared in the One hundred
and thirtieth Psalm, is the germ and root of this cantata to such a
degree that it is evident that Bach had fully realized by this time how
fertile a subject for treatment it was. It contains no chorus of such
depth and force as those of the One hundred and thirtieth Psalm. Its
character is much more entirely individual and personal, and so it has
a depth and intensity of expression which reach the extreme limits of
possibility of representation by music. The arrangement of the poetic
material is most excellent; it does not wholly consist of Scripture
texts and verses of hymns; and in several fit and expressive thoughts,
which are freely interspersed, we can almost recognize Bach's own hand.
If such be the case, the whole arrangement of the poetry may with
reason be ascribed to him."
The introduction to the work is a quiet, tender movement in sonata form,
written for two flutes, two viol-da-gambas and figured bass, which gives
out some of the themes in the middle of the cantata. The opening chorus
("God's own Time is the best, ever best of all. In Him we live, move, and
have our Being, as long as He wills. And in Him we die at His good Time")
is very descriptive in character, opening with a slow and solemn
movement, then passing to a quick fugue, and closing with phrases of
mournful beauty to suit the last sentence of the text. A tenor solo
follows, set to the words, "O Lord, incline us to consider that our Days
are numbered; make us apply our Hearts unto Wisdom," and accompanied by
the flutes, leading into a mournful aria for the bass, which forms the
second part of the tenor solo ("Set in order thine House, for thou shalt
die and not live"). The choir resumes with a new theme ("It is the old
Decree, Man, thou art mortal"), in which the lower voices carry a double
fugue, the soprano sings alone ("Yea, come, Lord Jesus"), and the
instruments have the melody of the old hymn:--
"I have cast all my care on God,
E'en let Him do what seems Him good;
Whether I die, or whether live,
No more I'll strive.
But all my will to Him will give."
Of this effective movement and its successor Spitta says:--
"The design is clear. The curse of death has been changed into blessing
by the coming of Christ, and that which mankind dreaded before, they
now stretch out entreating hands to; the bliss of the new condition of
things shines out in supernatural glory against the dark background of
a dispensation that has been done away. This is the idea of the
concerted vocal parts; and the fact that thousands upon thousands have
agreed in the joy of this faith is shown by the chorale tune now
introduced; for to the understanding listener its worldless sounds
convey the whole import of the hymn which speaks so sweetly of comfort
in the hour of death, sounds which must recall to every pious heart all
the feelings they had stirred when, among the chances and changes of
life, this hymn had been heard,--feelings of sympathy with another's
grief or of balm to the heart's own anxiety."
The alto voice follows with the words spoken on the cross ("Into Thy
Hands my Spirit I commend"), to which the bass replies in an arioso
("Thou shalt be with Me to-day in Paradise"). The next number is a
chorale ("In Joy and Peace I pass away whenever God willeth") sung by the
alto, the bass continuing its solo at the same time through a portion of
the chorale. The final chorus is the so-called fifth Gloria:--
"All glory, praise, and majesty
To Father, Son, and Spirit be,
The holy, blessed Trinity;
Whose power to us
Gives victory
Through Jesus Christ. Amen."
The "Actus Tragicus" was one of the youthful compositions of Bach, but it
has always attracted the notice of the best musical critics. It was a
great favorite with Mendelssohn. Spitta says:--
"It is a work of art well rounded off and firm in its formation, and
warmed by the deepest intensity of feeling even in the smallest
details."
Hauptmann writes to Jahn:--
"Yesterday, at the Euterpe concert, Bach's 'Gottes Zeit' was given.
What a marvellous intensity pervades it, without a bar of
conventionality! Of the cantatas known to me, I know none in which such
design and regard are had to the musical import and its expression."
Festa Ascensionis Christi.
The cantata beginning with the words, "Wer da glaubet und getauft wird"
("Whoso believeth and is baptized"), commonly known as the Ascension
cantata, was written for four voices, with accompaniment of two oboes,
two violins, viola, and "continuo,"--the latter word implying a bass
part, the harmonies indicated by figures from which the organist built up
his own accompaniment. The original score has been lost; but it has been
reconstructed from the parts, which are preserved in the Royal Library at
Berlin.
The cantata is in five numbers. A short prelude of a quiet and cheerful
character introduces the stately opening chorus ("Who believeth and
obeyeth will be blest forever"). Another brief prelude prepares the way
for the brilliant tenor aria ("Of Love, Faith is the Pledge and Token"),
which leads up to the chorale, "Lord God, my Father, holy One," based
upon the old chorale, "Wie schön leucht uns der Morgenstern" ("How
brightly shines the Morning Star"), which has always been a favorite in
the church service, and which more than one composer has chosen for the
embellishment of his themes. The chorale is not employed in its original
form, but is elaborated with all the contrapuntal skill for which Bach
was so famous. The next number is a short recitative for the bass voice
("Ye Mortals, hear, all ye who would behold the Face of God"), and leads
to a stately bass aria ("Through Faith the Soul has Eagle's Pinions").
The cantata closes, after the customary manner of Bach, with a strong,
earnest chorale ("Oh, give me Faith, my Father!"), in plain, solid
harmony, for the use of the congregation, thus forming an effective
devotional climax to the work.
Ein' Feste Burg.
"A safe stronghold our God is still,
A trusty shield and weapon;
He'll help us clear from all the ill
That hath us now o'ertaken.
The ancient Prince of Hell
Hath risen with purpose fell;
Strong mail of craft and power
He weareth in this hour.
On Earth is not his fellow.
* * * * *
"And were this world all devils o'er,
And watching to devour us,
We lay it not to heart so sore,
Not they can overpower us.
And let the Prince of Ill
Look grim as e'er he will,
He harms us not a whit;
For why? His doom is writ,
A word shall quickly slay him."
There is now but little question that Martin Luther not only wrote the
words but the music of the grand old hymn, the first and third stanzas of
which, taken from Carlyle's free and rugged translation, are given above.
Sleidan, a contemporary historian, indeed says that "Luther made a tune
for it singularly suited to the words and adapted to stir the heart." The
date of its composition is a matter of controversy; but it is clear that
it must have been either in 1529 or 1530, and most writers agree that it
was just before the Diet at Augsburg, where it was sung. Niederer, in a
work published at Nuremberg, 1759, fixes the date as 1530, and finds it
in Preussen's psalm-book, printed in 1537. Winterfeld observes it for the
first time in the "Gesangbuch" of the composer Walther, a friend of
Luther. Its usual title is, "Der XLVI. Psalm: Deus noster Refugium et
virtus, pp. D., Martin Luther." It matters little, however, the exact
year in which the sturdy old Reformer wrote the hymn which has stirred
the human heart more than any other. It is indissolubly connected with
his name, and every line of it is a reflex of his indomitable and
God-fearing nature. Heine and Carlyle have paid it noble tributes. The
German poet says:--
"The hymn which he composed on his way to Worms,[8] and which he and
his companions chanted as they entered that city, is a regular
war-song. The old cathedral trembled when it heard these novel sounds.
The very rooks flew from their nests in the towers. That hymn, the
Marseillaise of the Reformation, has preserved to this day its potent
spell over German hearts."
Carlyle still more forcibly says:--
"With words he had now learned to make music; it was by deeds of love
or heroic valor that he spoke freely. Nevertheless, though in imperfect
articulation, the same voice, if we listen well, is to be heard also in
his writings, in his poems. The one entitled 'Ein' feste Burg,'
universally regarded as the best, jars upon our ears; yet there is
something in it like the sound of Alpine avalanches, or the first
murmur of earthquakes, in the very vastness of which dissonance a
higher unison is revealed to us. Luther wrote this song in times of
blackest threatenings, which, however, could in no sense become a time
of despair. In these tones, rugged and broken as they are, do we hear
the accents of that summoned man, who answered his friends' warning not
to enter Worms, in this wise: 'Were there as many devils in Worms as
these tile roofs, I would on.'"
It was the battle-song of the Reformation, stirring men to valiant deeds;
and it did equal service in sustaining and consoling the Reformers in
their darkest hours. "Come, Philip, let us sing the Forty-sixth Psalm,"
was Luther's customary greeting to Melanchthon, when the gentler spirit
quailed before approaching danger, or success seemed doubtful. In music
it has frequently served an important purpose. Not only Bach, but other
composers of his time arranged it. Mendelssohn uses it with powerful
effect in his Reformation symphony. Nicolai employs it in his Fest
overture. Meyerbeer more than once puts it in the mouth of Marcel the
Huguenot, when dangers gather about his master, though the Huguenots were
not Lutherans but Calvinists; and Wagner introduces it with overwhelming
power in his triumphal Kaiser March.
Bitter, in his Life of Bach, says:--
"The bicentenary Reformation Festival was celebrated in October and
November, 1717, and at Weimar especially it was, as an old chronicle
tells us, a great jubilee. Bach composed his cantata, 'Ein' feste
Burg,' for the occasion. In this piece it is clear that he had passed
through his first phase of development and reached a higher stage of
perfection."
Winterfeld is inclined to the same belief; but Spitta, in his exhaustive
biography of Bach, argues that it must have been written either for the
Reformation Festival of 1730, or for the two hundredth anniversary of
Protestantism in Saxony, May 17, 1739. The former date would bring its
composition a year after the completion of his great Passions music, and
four years before his still more famous "Christmas Oratorio,"--a period
when he was at the height of his productive power; which favors the
argument of Spitta, that in 1717 a chorus like the opening one in the
cantata was beyond his capacity.[9] In the year 1730 Bach wrote three
Jubilee cantatas, rearranged from earlier works, and Spitta claims that
it was only about this period that he resorted to this practice. Further,
he adds that "the Chorale Chorus [the opening number], in its grand
proportions and vigorous flow, is the natural and highest outcome of
Bach's progressive development, and he never wrote anything more
stupendous."
The cantata has eight numbers, three choruses and five solos. The solo
numbers are rearranged from an earlier cantata, "Alles was von Gott
geboren" ("All that is of God's creation"), written for the third Sunday
in Lent, March 15, 1716. The opening number is a colossal fugue based
upon a variation on the old melody and set to the first verse of the
Luther hymn. It is followed by a duet for soprano and bass, including the
second verse of the hymn and an interpolated verse by Franck,[10] who
prepared the text. The third and fourth numbers are a bass recitative and
soprano aria, the words also by Franck, leading up to the second great
chorale chorus set to the words of the third stanza of the hymn,
"And were the world all devils o'er,"
of which Spitta says:--
"The whole chorus sings the _Cantus firmus_ in unison, while the
orchestra plays a whirl of grotesque and wildly leaping figures,
through which the chorus makes its way undistracted and never misled,
an illustration of the third verse, as grandiose and characteristic as
it is possible to conceive."
The sixth number is a recitative for tenor followed by a duet for alto
and tenor ("How blessed then are they who still on God are calling"). The
work closes with a repetition of the chorale, set to the last verse of
the hymn, sung without accompaniment. The cantata is colossal in its
proportions, and is characterized throughout by the stirring spirit and
bold vigorous feeling of the Reformation days whose memories it
celebrated.
[8] This assumption, repeated by others, grows out of the similarity of
sentiment in the third stanza to that of Luther's famous reply when
he was urged not to attend the Diet of Worms.
[9] There is yet a fourth rearrangement, which we may assign to 1730. The
assertion is no doubt well founded that in this year the celebration
of the Reformation Festival was considered of special importance, and
kept accordingly; and it is evident that the cantata "Ein' feste
Burg" must have been intended for some such extraordinary
solemnity.--_Spitta_, vol. ii. p. 470.
The Reformation Festival had no doubt a very distinct poetical
sentiment of its own; and when any special occasion took the
precedence, as in 1730 and 1739, the years of Jubilee, it would be
misleading to seek for any close connection between the sermon and
the cantata. Thus the cantata, "Ein' feste Burg," may very well have
been connected with the sermon in 1730; still, it is possible that it
was not written till 1739.--_Ibid._, vol. iii. p. 283.
[10] Salomo Franck, a poet of more than ordinary ability, was born at
Weimar, March 6, 1759. He published several volumes of sacred lyrics.
BALFE.
Michael William Balfe was born at Dublin, Ireland, May 15, 1808. Of all
the English opera-composers, his career was the most versatile, as his
success, for a time at least, was the most remarkable. At seven years of
age he scored a polacca of his own for a band. In his eighth year he
appeared as a violinist, and in his tenth was composing ballads. At
sixteen he was playing in the Drury Lane orchestra, and about this time
began taking lessons in composition. In 1825, aided by the generosity of
a patron, he went to Italy, where for three years he studied singing and
counterpoint. In his twentieth year he met Rossini, who offered him an
engagement as first barytone at the Italian opera in Paris. He made his
début with success in 1828, and at the close of his engagement returned
to Italy, where he appeared again on the stage. About this time
(1829-1830) he began writing Italian operas, and before he left the
country had produced three which met with considerable success. In 1835
he returned to England; and it was in this year that his first English
opera, "The Siege of Rochelle," was brought out. It was played
continuously at Drury Lane for over three months. In 1835 appeared his
"Maid of Artois;" in 1837, "Catharine Grey" and "Joan of Arc;" and in
1838, "Falstaff." During these years he was still singing in concerts and
opera, and in 1840 undertook the management of the Lyceum. His finest
works were produced after this date,--"The Bohemian Girl," in 1843; "The
Enchantress," in 1844; "The Rose of Castile," "La Zingara," and
"Satanella," in 1858; and "The Puritan's Daughter" in 1861. His last
opera was "The Knight of the Leopard," known in Italian as "Il
Talismano," which has also been performed in English as "The Talisman."
He married Mademoiselle Rosen, a German singer, whom he met in Italy in
1835. His daughter Victoire, who subsequently married Sir John Crampton,
and afterwards the Duc de Frias, also appeared as a singer in 1856. Balfe
died Oct. 20, 1870, upon his own estate in Hertfordshire.
Mazeppa.
The cantata of "Mazeppa," the words written by Jessica Rankin, was one of
the last productions of Balfe, having been produced in 1862, a year after
"The Puritan's Daughter," and several years after he had passed his
musical prime. The text is based upon the familiar story as told by Byron
in his poem of the wild ride of the page of King Casimir, "The Ukraine's
hetman, calm and bold," and of the
"noble steed,
A Tartar of the Ukraine breed,
Who looked as though the speed of thought
Was in his limbs."
The main incidents in the story--the guilty love of the page Mazeppa for
the Count Palatine's Theresa, his surprise and seizure by the spies, her
mysterious fate, the wild flight of the steed with his wretched load
through forest and over desert, and the final rescue by the Cossack
maid--are preserved, but liberties of every description are taken in the
recital of the narrative. It is but a feeble transcript of Byron's
glowing verse, and in its diluted form is but a vulgar story of ordinary
love, jealousy, and revenge.
The cantata comprises twelve numbers. The first is a prelude in triplets
intended to picture the gallop of the steed, a common enough device since
the days when Virgil did it much better without the aid of musical
notation, in his well-known line,--
"Quadrupedante putrem sonitu quatit ungula campum."
It leads to a stirring chorus which is followed by still another, based
upon a very pleasant melody. The third number is a solo for barytone, in
which the Count gives expression to his jealousy, which brings us to the
heroine, who makes her appearance in a florid number. The next is a duet
for Theresa and Mazeppa, followed by a solo for the tenor (Mazeppa) which
is very effective. The chorus then re-enter and indicate the madness of
the Count in words, the following sample of which will show their
unsingableness:--
"Revenge fires his turbulent soul;
No power his boundless rage can control."
The eighth number is another duet for the Countess and Mazeppa in the
conventional Italian style. It is followed by a graceful aria for tenor,
which leads up to the best number in the work, a trio in canon form. A
final aria by the Count leads to the last chorus, in which the repetition
of the triplet gallop forebodes the ride into the desert and the
punishment of the page. As might be inferred from the description, the
cantata is like Hamlet with _Hamlet_ left out. There is very little of
Mazeppa and his Tartar steed in the work, but very much of the jealousy
and revenge which lead up to the penalty.
BEETHOVEN.
Ludwig von Beethoven was born Dec. 16, 1770, at Bonn, Germany. His father
was a court-singer in the Chapel of the Elector of Cologne. The great
composer studied in Vienna with Haydn, with whom he did not always agree,
however, and afterwards with Albrechtsberger. His first symphony appeared
in 1801,--his earlier symphonies, in what is called his first period,
being written in the Mozart style. His only opera, "Fidelio," for which
he wrote four overtures, was first brought out in Vienna, in 1805; his
oratorio, "Christ on the Mount of Olives," in 1812; and his colossal
Ninth Symphony, with its choral setting of Schiller's "Ode to Joy," in
1824. In addition to his symphonies, his opera, oratorios, and masses,
and the immortal series of piano sonatas, which were almost revelations
in music, he developed chamber music to an extent far beyond that reached
by his predecessors, Mozart and Haydn. His symphonies exhibit surprising
power, a marvellous comprehension of the deeper feelings in life, and the
influences of nature, both human and physical. He wrote with the deepest
earnestness, alike in the passion and the repose of his music, and he
invested it also with a genial humor as well as with the highest
expression of pathos. His works are epic in style. He was the great
tone-poet of music. His subjects were always lofty and dignified, and to
their treatment he brought not only a profound knowledge of musical
technicality, but intense sympathy with the innermost feelings of human
nature, for he was a humanitarian in the broadest sense. By the common
consent of the musical world he stands at the head of all composers since
his time, and has always been their guide and inspiration. He died March
26, 1827, in the midst of a raging thunder-storm,--one of his latest
utterances being a recognition of the "divine spark" in Schubert's music.
The Ruins of Athens.
The most important compositions by Beethoven in 1811 were the music to
two dramatic works written by the poet Kotzebue to celebrate the opening
of the new theatre at Pesth, Hungary. One of these was a prologue in one
act with overture and choruses, entitled "König Stephan,[11] Ungarn's
erster Wohlthäter" ("King Stephen, Hungary's first Benefactor"); the
other, an allegorical sketch, called "The Ruins of Athens," the subject
of which is thus concisely stated by Macfarren:--
"Minerva has been since the golden age of Grecian art, the glorious
epoch of Grecian liberty, for some or other important offence against
the Olympian tribunal, the particulars of which I am unable to furnish,
fettered with chains of heaven-wrought adamant by the omnipotent
thunderer within a rock impenetrable alike to the aspirations of man
and to the intelligence of the goddess, a rock through which neither
his spirit of inquiry could approach, nor her wisdom diffuse itself
upon the world. The period of vengeance is past; Jove relents, and the
captive deity is enfranchised. The first steps of her freedom naturally
lead Minerva to the scene of her ancient greatness. She finds Athens,
her Athens, her especially beloved and most carefully cherished city,
in ruins, the descendants of her fostered people enslaved to a
barbarous and fanatic race; the trophies of her former splendor, the
wrecks of that art which is the example and the regret of all time,
appropriated to the most degrading purposes of vulgar householdry; and
the frenzied worshippers of a faith that knows not the divine presence
in its most marvellous manifestation, the intellect of man. Here is no
longer the home of wisdom and the arts; so the liberated goddess
proceeds to Pesth, where she establishes anew her temple in the new
theatre, and presides over a triumphal procession in honor of the
Emperor, its patron, under whose auspices the golden age is to prevail
again."
After the opening performances the music to "King Stephen" was laid aside
until 1841, when it was given in Vienna; but the after-piece, "The Ruins
of Athens," was presented again during Beethoven's lifetime upon the
occasion of the opening of a theatre in that city. The new text, which
was prepared for it by Carl Meisl, was entitled "Die Weihe des Hauses"
("The Dedication of the House"), and Beethoven wrote for it the overture
which is now so famous, solos for soprano and violin, and a final chorus
with dances.
The music to the "Ruins of Athens" comprises eight numbers. The overture
is very light and unpretentious, and by many critics, among them
Ferdinand Ries, Beethoven's pupil, has been deemed unworthy of the
composer. Thayer says:--
"When the overture was first played at Leipsic, people could hardly
trust their ears, could hardly believe it to be the work of the author
of the symphonies, of the overtures to 'Coriolan,' 'Egmont,' and
'Leonore' (Fidelio)."
The opening number is a chorus ("Daughter of mighty Jove, awake!"), which
is followed by a beautiful duet ("Faultless, yet hated"), voicing the
lament of two Greek slaves for the destruction of their temples and the
degradation of their land. The duet is very pathetic in character, and
the melody, carried by the two voices, leaves an impression of sadness
which cannot be resisted. The third number is the well-known chorus of
Dervishes sung in unison by tenors and basses, thus forming a kind of
choral chant. The melody is a weird one, and full of local color, but its
powerful effect is gained by the manner of treatment. It begins
pianissimo and is gradually worked to the extreme pitch of true Dervish
delirium, culminating in the exclamation, "Great Prophet, hail!" and then
gradually subsiding until it dies away, apparently from the exhaustion of
such fervor. It is followed by the familiar Turkish march, founded on the
theme of the Variations in D, op. 76, very simple in construction,
Oriental in its character throughout, and peculiarly picturesque in
effect. After an instrumental movement behind the scenes, a triumphal
march and chorus ("Twine ye a Garland") is introduced. The seventh number
is a recitative and aria by the high priest with chorus, which lead to a
beautifully melodious chorus ("Susceptible Hearts"). An adagio aria for
bass ("Deign, great Apollo") and a vigorous chorus ("Hail, our King")
bring the work to a close. The piece was first brought out in England by
Mendelssohn in 1844 at one of the Philharmonic Society's concerts; and
ten or twelve years later an English version of it was performed at the
Prince's Theatre, when the Royal Exchange and statue of Wellington were
substituted for the Pesth Theatre, and Shakspeare took the place of the
Emperor of Austria, concerning the good taste of which Macfarren pithily
says:--
"Modifications admirably adapted to the commercial character and the
blind vainglory that so eminently mark the British nation."
[11] Born in the year 977 at Gran, and known in Austrian and Hungarian
history as Saint Stephen.
The Glorious Moment.
In September, 1814, the same year in which the Allies entered Paris, the
Vienna Congress met to adjust the relations of the various European
States. It was an occasion of great moment in the ancient city,--this
gathering of sovereigns and distinguished statesmen,--and the magistracy
prepared themselves to celebrate it with befitting pomp and ceremony.
Beethoven was requested to set a poem, written by Dr. Aloys Weissenbach,
of Salzburg, in cantata form, which was to be sung as a greeting to the
royal visitors. It was "Der glorreiche Augenblick," sometimes written
"Der heilige Augenblick" ("The Glorious Moment"). The time for its
composition was very brief, and was made still shorter by the quarrels
the composer had with the poet in trying to reduce the barbarous text to
a more inspiring and musical form. He began the composition in September,
and it was first performed on the 29th of the following November,
together with the "Battle of Vittoria," and the A major (Seventh)
symphony, written in the previous year. The concert took place in the
presence of the sovereigns and an immense audience which received his
works with every demonstration of enthusiasm, particularly "The Glorious
Moment,"--a moment which all hailed as the precursor of a happier epoch
for Europe, soon to be freed from Napoleonic oppression. The occasion was
one of great benefit to the composer at a time when he was sorely in need
of assistance. The distinguished foreign visitors thronged the salon of
the Archduke Rudolph to pay him homage. Handsome gifts were lavished upon
him so that he was enabled to make a permanent investment of 20,000 marks
in shares of the bank of Austria. Brilliant entertainments were given by
the Russian ambassador, Prince Rasoumowsky,[12] in his palace, at one of
which Beethoven was presented to the sovereigns. The Empress of Russia
also gave him a reception and made him magnificent presents. Schindler
says:
"Not without feeling did the great master afterwards recall those days
in the Imperial Palace and that of the Russian Prince; and once with a
certain pride remarked that he had allowed the crowned heads to pay
court to him, and that he had carried himself thereby proudly."
The stern old republican, however, who could rebuke Goethe for taking off
his hat in the presence of royalty, spoke such sentiments jocosely. He
expresses his real feelings in a letter written to the attorney, Herr J.
Kauka, of Prague:--
"I write nothing about our monarchs and monarchies, for the newspapers
give you every information on these subjects. The intellectual realm is
the most precious in my eyes, and far above all temporal and spiritual
monarchies."
The cantata itself, while not one of the most meritorious of the
composer's works, for reasons which are sufficiently apparent, still is
very effective in its choruses. The detailed parts do not need special
description; they are six in number, as follows: No. 1, chorus ("Europa
steht"); No. 2, recitative and chorus ("O, seht sie nah und näher
treten"); No. 3, grand scena, soprano, with violin obligato and chorus
("O Himmel, welch' Entzücken"); No. 4, soprano solo and chorus ("Das Auge
schaut"); No. 5, recitative and quartet for two sopranos, tenor, and bass
("Der den Bund im Sturme festgehalten"); No. 6, chorus and fugue ("Es
treten hervor die Scharen der Frauen"), closing with a stirring "Heil und
Gluck" to Vindobona, the ancient name of the city. In 1836, nine years
after the composer's death, the cantata appeared with a new poetical
setting by Friedrich Rochlitz, under the title of "Preis der Tonkunst"
("Praise of Music"), in which form it was better adapted for general
performance.
Among other compositions of Beethoven which assimilate to the cantata
form, are Op. 112, "Meeresstille und glückliche Fahrt," for four voices,
with orchestra accompaniment; Op. 121, "Opferlied," for soprano solo,
with chorus and orchestra accompaniment; and Op. 122, "Bundeslied," for
two solo voices, three-part chorus, and accompaniment of two clarinets,
two bassoons, and two horns.
[12] Prince Rasoumowsky, who was the Russian ambassador at the Austrian
Court for twenty years, was himself a thorough musician, and ranked
as one of the best players in Vienna, of the Haydn and Beethoven
quartets. His instrument was the second violin.
BENEDICT.
Sir Julius Benedict, whose name is so intimately connected with music in
England, was born at Stuttgart, Nov. 27, 1804. After a short period of
study with Hummel at Weimar he became a pupil of Weber. He progressed so
rapidly that at the age of nineteen he conducted operatic performances in
Vienna, and a few years afterwards was leader at the San Carlo in Naples,
where he produced his first opera, "Giacinta ed Ernesto." In 1835 he went
to Paris and thence to London, where he remained until his death. In 1836
he led the orchestra at the Lyceum Theatre, and was also conductor at
Drury Lane during the memorable seasons in which the best of Balfe's
operas were brought out. It was during this period also that he produced
two of his own operas,--"The Brides of Venice" and "The Crusaders," which
are ranked among his best works of this class. In 1850 he accompanied
Jenny Lind on her memorable tour through this country. On his return to
England he was engaged as conductor at Her Majesty's Theatre, and
afterwards at Drury Lane. In 1860 he produced the cantata of "Undine;" in
1862 the opera "Lily of Killarney;" in 1863 the cantata "Richard Coeur de
Leon;" in 1864 the operetta "Bride of Song;" in 1866 the cantata "St.
Cecilia;" and in 1870 the oratorio "St. Peter." In 1871 he received the
honor of knighthood, and in 1873 brought out a symphony which met with
great success. In 1874, the occasion of his seventieth birthday, he was
made Knight Commander of the orders of Francis and Joseph and of
Frederic, Austrian and Wurtembergian decorations. Nearly every sovereign
in Europe had thus honored him. He was also conductor of the London
Monday Popular Concerts for many years, and directed many chamber
concerts. He died full of honors in June, 1885.
St. Cecilia.
The legend of St. Cecilia for two centuries has inspired the poet and
composer, and the custom of celebrating her festival has obtained in
nearly all European countries during the same period. The earliest
observance was at Evreux, France, in 1571. The first celebration in
England of which any record remains was that of 1683; though it is clear
from the accounts of musical writers in the seventeenth century that the
custom had been practised many years prior to that date. From 1683 to
1750 St. Cecilia festivals were given annually in London, and for these
occasions an ode was written and set to music.[13] In the latter year the
distinctive name of the festival fell into disuse, though large musical
festivals were frequently held after that year on the saint's day. In
France regular entertainments were given on St. Cecilia's Day from 1573
to 1601, when the record terminates. In Italy the anniversary of the
saint has not been celebrated except as a church festival. In Germany the
custom prevailed as early as the sixteenth century; and in the next
century Cecilia festivals were quite common in Spain. Prior to Benedict's
work the most modern composition having the legend for its basis was a
cantata by Van Bree, of Amsterdam, written in 1845.
These preliminaries will enable the reader the better to understand the
introduction which Mr. Chorley has written to the text of the cantata by
Benedict, composed for the Norwich Festival of 1866. Mr. Chorley says:--
"It has long been a favorite fancy of mine to treat the legend of St.
Cecilia for music with a view to the possible revival of such
celebrations as were held in gone-by years, when English sympathy for
the art was more limited in every respect than at the present time. It
is true that the names of Dryden and Addison among the poets, and of
Handel among the musicians, who have made 'divine Cecilia's' praise
immortal, might be thought to deter anyone from dealing with the
subject. But theirs were merely votive odes indirectly bearing on the
power of the art of which Cecilia is patron saint. This cantata of mine
sets forth her story, which, so far as I am aware, has not been done
before in any of the works produced for the Cecilian festivals in
England. All who are familiar with the accepted legend, as told in the
'Legenda Aurea' of Jacobus Januensis, Archbishop of Genoa, will
perceive that I have treated it with a certain liberty. Some of the
minor incidents--such as the conversion and martyrdom of Tiburtius, the
brother of Valerianus--have been omitted with a view of avoiding the
introduction of secondary persons, and of concentrating the main
interest in the martyr heroine. Further, the catastrophe which (to cite
Dryden's known line in defiance of its original import)
"Raised a mortal to the skies,"
has been simplified. The legend narrates that after the agony of slow
fire, which failed to kill the Christian bride, the sword ended her
days. A literal adherence to this tradition might have weakened the
closing scene by presenting two situations of the same character.
Others must judge how far I have been indiscreet, or the reverse, in
its omission."
The story of the cantata is strikingly similar to that which forms the
theme of Donizetti's opera "Il Poliuto," though the manner of the
conversions differs. In the former it is Valerianus, the lover of
Cecilia, who is turned from heathenism by the angelic vision. In the
latter it is Paulina, the wife of the Roman convert Polyutus, who
witnesses the divine illumination and hears the celestial harps, which
induce her to abjure the worship of the gods and join her husband in
martyrdom. It is in fact the old, old story of the persecutions of a new
faith by the old. Cecilia, though married to Valerianus, hears the divine
call summoning the bride away from her lover until he shall have been
converted. She appeals to Heaven in his behalf. A vision of angels
appears to him and their songs win his soul. The infuriated prefect, who
has but just performed the rites of their marriage, orders their
death,--Valerianus to be beheaded, and Cecilia to die by the slow
martyrdom of fire. The tragedy of the former is left to the imagination.
Cecilia dies surrounded by the angels and hears their voices:--
"Before mine eyes, already dim,
Doth heaven unclose the gate;
I hear the choiring seraphim
Around the throne that wait.
To join the song of that bright choir
Thy mercy sets me free;
And so I triumph o'er the fire,
And rise, O Lord, to Thee."
The work contains thirteen numbers, and the solos are divided as follows:
Cecilia, soprano; Valerianus, tenor; the Prefect of Rome, bass; a
Christian woman, contralto. The remaining numbers are assigned to
choruses of Roman citizens, Christians, and angels. A tender and
sorrowful prelude, foreshadowing the tragedy, introduces a bright and
joyous wedding chorus ("Let the Lutes play their loudest"), which in its
middle part is divided between male and female choir, returning to
four-part harmony in the close. The next number is an ecstatic love-song
for Valerianus ("The Love too deep for Words to speak"), which leads up
to a scena and duet for Valerianus and Cecilia ("O my Lord, if I must
grieve you"), which is very dramatic in its texture. The conversion
music, including an obligato soprano solo with chorus of angels ("Praise
the Lord"), recitative and air for tenor with choral responses ("Cease
not, I pray you"), and an animated chorus of angels ("From our Home"),
follows, and closes the first part.
The second part opens with the curse of the prefect, a very passionate
aria for bass ("What mean these Zealots vile?"), following which in
marked contrast is a lovely aria for contralto ("Father, whose Blessing
we entreat"). The next number, a quartet with full choral accompaniment
("God is our Hope and Strength"), is one of the most effective in the
work, and is followed by the trial scene, a duet between Valerianus and
the prefect, the latter accompanied by chorus. A short funeral march
intervenes. Valerianus and Cecilia bid each other farewell; the former is
borne away, and Cecilia sings her dying song ("Those whom the Highest One
befriends") amid the triumphant hallelujahs of the angels.
[13] The Ode for St. Cecilia's Day in 1683 was written by Christopher
Fishburn and set to music by Purcell. The most famous odes of the
next hundred years were as follows: "A song for St. Cecilia's Day,
1687," by John Dryden, originally composed by Draghi, afterwards by
Handel; ode by Thomas d'Urfrey, music by Dr. Blow, 1691; "Alexander's
Feast," by Dryden, original music by Jeremiah Clark afterwards
composed by Handel, 1697; ode by Joseph Addison, composed by Purcell,
1699; "Hymn to Harmony," by Congreve, composed by John Eccles, 1701;
ode by Pope in 1708, set to music in 1757 by William Walond; an ode
by Christopher Smart, composed by William Russell, 1800.
BENNETT.
William Sterndale Bennett, one of the most gifted and individual of
English composers, was born at Sheffield, April 13, 1816. His musical
genius displayed itself early, and in his tenth year he was placed in the
Royal Academy of Music, of which in his later years he became principal.
He received his early instruction in composition from Lucas and Dr.
Crotch, and studied the piano with Cipriani Potter, who had been a pupil
of Mozart. The first composition which gained him distinction was the
Concerto in D minor, written in 1832, which was followed by the Capriccio
in D minor. During the next three years he produced the overture to
"Parisina," the F minor Concerto, and the "Naïades" overture, the success
of which was so great that a prominent musical house in London offered to
send him to Leipsic for a year. He went there, and soon won his way to
the friendship of Schumann and Mendelssohn. With the latter he was on
very intimate terms, which has led to the erroneous statement that he was
his pupil. In 1840 he made a second visit to Leipsic, where he composed
his Caprice in E, and the "Wood Nymphs" overture. In 1842 he returned to
England, and for several years was busily engaged with chamber concerts.
In 1849 he founded the Bach Society, arranged the "Matthew Passion" music
of that composer, as well as his "Christmas Oratorio," and brought out
the former work in 1854. The previous year he was offered the
distinguished honor of the conductorship of the Gewandhaus concerts at
Leipsic, but did not accept. In 1856 he was appointed conductor of the
Philharmonic Society, and filled the position for ten years, resigning it
to take the head of the Royal Academy of Music. In the same year he was
elected musical professor at Cambridge, where he received the degree of
Doctor of Music and other honors. In 1858 his beautiful cantata "The May
Queen" was produced at the Leeds Festival, and in 1862 the "Paradise and
the Peri" overture, written for the Philharmonic Society. In 1867 his
oratorio, or, as he modestly terms it, "sacred cantata," "The Woman of
Samaria," was produced with great success at the Birmingham Festival. In
1870 he was honored with a degree by the University of Oxford, and a year
later received the empty distinction of knighthood. His last public
appearance was at a festival in Brighton in 1874, where he conducted his
"Woman of Samaria." He died Feb. 1, 1875, and was buried in Westminster
Abbey with distinguished honors.
The May Queen.
"The May Queen," a pastoral cantata, the libretto by Henry F. Chorley,
was first performed at the Leeds Festival of 1858. The solo parts are
written for the May Queen (soprano); the Queen (contralto); the Lover
(tenor); and the Captain of the Foresters, as Robin Hood (bass). The
opening scene pictures the dressing of the tree for the spring festivity
on the banks of the Thames, and the preparations for the reception of the
May Queen. A despondent lover enters and sings his melancholy plight as
he reflects upon the fickleness of the May Queen, interrupted at
intervals by the merry shouts of the chorus:--
"With a laugh as we go round
To the merry, merry sound
Of the tabor and the pipe,
We will frolic on the green;
For since the world began,
And our royal river ran,
Was never such a May Day,
And never such a Queen."
The lover continues his doleful lamenting, which is at last interrupted
by the entrance of the May Queen herself, who chides him for his
complaints and argues her right to coquet on such a day. As their
interview closes, a band of foresters enter with their greenwood king,
Robin Hood, at their head, who after a rollicking hunting-song makes open
love to the May Queen. The enraged lover resents his impertinence, and at
last strikes him a blow, which by the laws exposes him to the loss of his
hand. Before he can make his escape there is a flourish of trumpets, and
the Queen enters and demands the reason for the brawl. The revellers
inform her that the lover has struck the forester. She orders his arrest,
whereupon the May Queen intercedes with her for her lover's release and
declares her affection for him. Her appeal for mercy is granted. The
forester is banished from the royal presence for lowering himself to the
level of a peasant girl, the May Queen is ordered to wed her lover on the
coming morn, and all ends happily with the joyous chorus:--
"And the cloud hath passed away,
That was heavy on the May;
And the river floweth fair,
And the meadow bloometh green.
They embrace, no more to part,
While we sing from every heart,
A blessing on the bridal!
A blessing on the Queen!"
The music of the cantata is divided into ten numbers, which are
characterized by exquisite refinement and artistic taste. The solos,
particularly No. 2, for tenor ("O Meadow, clad in early Green"), No. 4,
the obligato soprano ("With the Carol in the Tree"), and No. 6, the
forester's lusty greenwood song ("'Tis jolly to hunt in the bright
Moonlight"), are very melodious, and well adapted to the individual
characters. The concerted music is written in the most scholarly manner,
the choruses are full of life and spirit, and the instrumentation is
always effective. There are few more beautiful cantatas than "The May
Queen," though the composer was hampered by a dull and not very inspiring
libretto. Poor words, however, could not affect his delightful grace and
fancy, which manifest themselves in every number of this little pastoral.
It is surprising that so excellent a work, and one which is so well
adapted to chorus singing and solo display, without making very severe
demands upon the singers, is not more frequently given in this country.
The Exhibition Ode.
The music for the opening of the International Exhibition at London,
which occurred in May, 1862, was of unusual excellence. Auber sent a
composition which, though called a march, was in reality a brilliant
overture. Meyerbeer contributed an overture in march form, in which three
marches were blended in one, the whole culminating in "Rule Britannia."
Verdi wrote a cantata, which was rejected by the Commissioners because by
the side of the national anthem he had introduced the revolutionary
Marseillaise and the Italian war-song called "Garibaldienne." Its
rejection not only caused great indignation in the musical world, but at
once made it famous; and it was afterwards publicly performed,
Mademoiselle Titiens taking the soprano solos, Sir Julius Benedict
conducting.
The prominent feature of the musical programme, however, was the Ode
which the poet laureate and Bennett conjointly furnished. Never before
were Mr. Tennyson's verses more completely united with music. The work is
divided into three parts, all choral, linked by recitatives. The first
number is a hymn to the Deity ("Uplift a thousand Voices full and
sweet"), written as a four-part chorale, which is very jubilant in style.
The next movement,--
"O silent father of our kings to be,
Mourned in this golden hour of jubilee,
For this, for all, we weep our thanks to thee,"
eloquently referring to the Prince Consort, is set in the minor key, and
is one of the most pathetic musical passages ever written. Then follows a
descriptive catalogue of the industries represented,--"harvest tool and
husbandry," "loom and wheel and engin'ry," and so on, through which the
music labors some, as might have been expected; but in the close it once
more resumes its melodious flow, leading up to the final chorus, in which
the theme of the opening chorale is borrowed and developed with peculiar
originality and artistic skill into a movement of great richness in
effects and beauty in expression. It is unfortunate for the popularity of
such an excellent work that it was composed for a special occasion.
BERLIOZ.
Hector Berlioz, one of the most renowned of modern French composers, and
an acute critic and skilful conductor as well, was born, Dec. 11, 1803,
at La Côte St. André, in France. His father was a physician, and intended
him for the same profession. He reluctantly went to Paris and began the
study of medicine; but music became his engrossing passion, and medicine
was abandoned. He entered the Conservatory as a pupil of Lesueur, and
soon showed himself superior to all his masters except Cherubini, which
aroused a strong opposition to him and his compositions. It was only
after repeated trials that he took the first prize, which entitled him to
go to Italy for three years. On his return to Paris he encountered
renewed antipathy. His music was not well received, and he was obliged to
support himself by conducting at concerts and writing articles for the
press. As a final resort he organized a concert-tour through Germany and
Russia, the details of which are contained in his extremely interesting
Autobiography. At these concerts his own music was the staple of the
programmes, and it met with great success, though not always played by
the best of orchestras, and not always well by the best, as his own
testimony shows; for his compositions are very exacting, and call for
every resource known to the modern orchestra. The Germans were quick in
appreciating his music; but it was not until after his death that his
ability was conceded in France. In 1839 he was appointed librarian of the
Conservatory, and in 1856 was made a member of the French Academy. These
were the only honors he received, though he long sought to obtain a
professorship in the Conservatory. A romantic but sad incident in his
life was his violent passion for Miss Smithson, an Irish actress, whom he
saw upon the Paris stage in the _rôle_ of Ophelia, at a time when Victor
Hugo had revived an admiration for Shakspeare among the French. He
married her, but did not live with her long, owing to her bad temper and
ungovernable jealousy; though after the separation he honorably
contributed to her support out of the pittance he was earning. Among his
great works are the opera, "Benvenuto Cellini;" the symphony with chorus,
"Romeo and Juliet;" "Beatrice and Benedict;" "Les Troyens," the text from
Virgil's "Æneid;" the symphony, "Harold in Italy;" the symphony, "Funèbre
et Triomphe;" the "Damnation of Faust;" a double-chorused "Te Deum;" the
"Symphony Fantastique;" the "Requiem;" and the sacred trilogy, "L'Enfance
du Christ." Berlioz stands among all other composers as the foremost
representative of "programme music," and has left explicit and very
detailed explanations of the meaning of his works, so that the hearer may
listen intelligently by seeing the external objects his music is intended
to picture. In the knowledge of individual instruments and the grouping
of them for effect, in warmth of imagination and brilliancy of color, and
in his daring combinations and fantastic moods, which are sometimes
carried to the very verge of eccentricity, he is a colossus among modern
musicians. He died in Paris, March 8, 1869.
Romeo and Juliet.
"Dramatic symphony, with choruses, solos, chant, and prologue in choral
recitative" is the title which Berlioz gives to his "Romeo and Juliet."
It was written in 1839, and its composition commemorates an interesting
episode in his career. In the previous year he had written his symphony
"Harold in Italy," the subject inspired by Byron's "Childe Harold."
Paganini, the wonder of the musical world at that time, was present at
its performance, and was so pleased with the work that he sent Berlioz an
enthusiastic tribute of applause as well as of substantial
remembrance.[14] The composer at that time was in straitened
circumstances, and in his gratitude for this timely relief he resolved to
write a work which should be worthy of dedication to the great violinist.
His Autobiography bears ample testimony to the enthusiasm with which he
worked. He says:--
"At last, after much indecision, I hit upon the idea of a symphony,
with choruses, vocal solos, and choral recitatives, on the sublime and
ever novel theme of Shakspeare's 'Romeo and Juliet.' I wrote in prose
all the text intended for the vocal pieces which came between the
instrumental selections. Émile Deschamps, with his usual delightful
good-nature and marvellous facility, set it to verse for me, and I
began....
"During all that time how ardently did I live! How vigorously I struck
out on that grand sea of poetry caressed by the playful breeze of
fancy, beneath the hot rays of that sun of love which Shakspeare
kindled, always confident of my power to reach the marvellous island
where stands the temple of true art! Whether I succeeded or not it is
not for me to decide."
The work opens with a fiery introduction representing the combats and
tumults of the two rival houses of Capulet and Montague, and the
intervention of the Prince. It is followed by a choral recitative for
four altos, tenors, and basses ("Long smouldering Hatreds"), with which
is interwoven a contralto solo ("Romeo too is there"), the number closing
with a passionate chorus ("The Revels now are o'er"). A beautiful effect
is made at this point by assigning to the alto voice two couplets ("Joys
of first Love") which are serious in style but very rich in melody. A
brief bit of choral recitative and a few measures for tenor--Mercutio's
raillery--lead up to a dainty scherzetto for tenor solo and small chorus
("Mab! bright Elf of Dreamland"), and a short choral passage brings this
scene to a close.
The second scene, which is for orchestra only, an impressive declamatory
phrase developing into a tender melody, representing the sadness of
Romeo, set in tones against the brilliant dance music in the distance
accompanying the revel of the Capulets, is one of the most striking
effects Berlioz has accomplished, and illustrates his astonishing command
of instrumentation. The third scene represents Capulet's garden in the
stillness of night, the young Capulets passing through it, bidding each
other adieu and repeating snatches of the dance music. As their strains
die away in the distance the balcony scene between Romeo and Juliet is
given by the orchestra alone in a genuine love-poem full of passion and
sensuousness. No words could rival the impassioned beauty of this
melodious number. The fourth scene is also given to the orchestra, and is
a setting of Mercutio's description of Queen Mab. It is a scherzo
intensely swift in its movement and almost ethereal in its dainty,
graceful rhythm. The instrumentation is full of subtle effects,
particularly in the romantic passages for the horns.
In the fifth scene we pass from the tripping music of the fairies to the
notes of woe. It describes the funeral procession of Juliet, beginning
with a solemn march in fugue style, at first instrumental, with
occasional entrances of the voices in monotone, and then vocal ("O mourn,
O mourn, strew choicest Flowers"), the monotone being assigned to the
instruments. It preludes a powerful orchestral scene representing Romeo's
invocation, Juliet's awakening, and the despair and death of the
lovers.[15] The finale is mainly for double chorus, representing the
quarrel between the Montagues and Capulets in the cemetery, which is
written with great dramatic power and conceived on the large scale of an
operatic _ensemble_ both in the voice parts and instrumentation, and the
final reconciliation through the intercession of Friar Laurence, whose
declamatory solos are very striking, particularly the air, "Poor Children
mine, let me mourn you." The work is one of almost colossal difficulty,
and requires great artists, singers and players, to give expression to
its daring realism. Among all of Berlioz's programme-music, this
tone-picture of the principal episodes in Shakspeare's tragedy stands out
clear and sharp by virtue of its astonishing dramatic power.
[14] My dear Friend,--Beethoven is dead, and Berlioz alone can revive
him. I have heard your divine composition, so worthy of your genius,
and beg you to accept, in token of my homage, twenty thousand francs,
which will be handed to you by the Baron de Rothschild on
presentation of the enclosed.--Your most affectionate friend,
Nicolo Paganini.
Paris, Dec. 18, 1838.
[15] Composer's Note. The public has no imagination; therefore pieces
which are addressed solely to the imagination have no public. The
following instrumental scene is in this case, and I think it should
be omitted whenever this symphony is given before an audience not
having a feeling for poetry, and not familiar with the fifth act of
Shakspeare's tragedy. This implies its omission ninety-nine times out
of a hundred. It presents, moreover, immense difficulties of
execution. Consequently, after Juliet's funeral procession a moment
of silence should be observed, then the finale should be taken up.
The Damnation of Faust.
The "Damnation of Faust," dramatic legend, as Berlioz calls it, was
written in 1846. It is divided in four parts, the first containing three,
the second four, the third six, and the fourth five scenes, the last
concluding with an epilogue and the apotheosis of Marguerite. It was
first produced in Paris in November, 1846, and had its first hearing in
this country Feb. 12, 1880, when the late Dr. Leopold Damrosch brought it
out with the assistance of the New York Symphony, Oratorio, and Arion
Societies.
Berlioz has left in his Autobiography an extremely interesting account of
the manner in which he composed it. Though he had had the plan of the
work in his mind for many years, it was not until 1846 that he began the
legend. During this year he was travelling on a concert-tour through
Austria, Hungary, Bohemia, and Silesia, and the different numbers were
written at intervals of leisure. He says:--
"I wrote when I could and where I could; in the coach, on the railroad,
in steamboats, and even in towns, notwithstanding the various cares
entailed by my concerts."
He began with Faust's invocation to Nature, which was finished "in my old
German post-chaise." The introduction was written in an inn at Passau,
and at Vienna he finished up the Elbe scene, Mephistopheles' song, and
the exquisite Sylph's ballet. As to the introduction of the Rákóczy
march, his words deserve quoting in this connection, as they throw some
light on the general character of the work. He says:--
"I have already mentioned my writing a march at Vienna, in one night,
on the Hungarian air of Rákóczy. The extraordinary effect it produced
at Pesth made me resolve to introduce it in Faust, by taking the
liberty of placing my hero in Hungary at the opening of the act, and
making him present at the march of a Hungarian army across the plain. A
German critic considered it most extraordinary in me to have made Faust
travel in such a place. I do not see why, and I should not have
hesitated in the least to bring him in in any other direction if it
would have benefited the piece. I had not bound myself to follow
Goethe's plot, and the most eccentric travels may be attributed to such
a personage as Faust without transgressing the bounds of possibility.
Other German critics took up the same thesis, and attacked me with even
greater violence about my modifications of Goethe's text and plot; just
as though there were no other Faust but Goethe's, and as if it were
possible to set the whole of such a poem to music without altering its
arrangement. I was stupid enough to answer them in the preface to the
'Damnation of Faust.' I have often wondered why I was never reproached
about the book of 'Romeo and Juliet,' which is not very like the
immortal tragedy. No doubt because Shakspeare was not a German.
Patriotism! Fetichism! Idiotcy!"
One night when he had lost his way in Pesth he wrote the choral refrain
of the "Ronde des Paysans" by the gaslight in a shop; and at Prague he
arose in the middle of the night to write down the Angels' Chorus in
Marguerite's apotheosis. At Breslau he wrote the Students' Latin Song,
"Jam nox stellata velamina pandit;" and on his return to France he
composed the grand trio in the work while visiting a friend near Rouen.
He concludes:
"The rest was written in Paris, but always improvised, either at my own
house, or at the café, or in the Tuileries gardens, and even on a stone
in the Boulevard du Temple. I did not search for ideas, I let them
come; and they presented themselves in a most unforeseen manner. When
at last the whole outline was sketched, I set to work to re-do the
whole, touch up the different parts, unite and blend them together with
all the patience and determination of which I am capable, and to finish
off the instrumentation, which had only been indicated here and there.
I look upon this as one of my best works, and hitherto the public seems
to be of the same opinion."
This opinion, however, was of slow growth, for of the first performance
of the work he says:--
"It was the end of November, 1846; snow was falling; the weather was
dreadful. I had no fashionable cantatrice to sing the part of
Marguerite. As for Roger, who did Faust, and Herman Léon, who took the
part of Mephistopheles, they might be heard any day in this same
theatre; moreover, they were no longer the fashion. The result was that
Faust was twice performed to a half-empty room. The concert-going
Parisian public, supposed to be fond of music, stayed quietly at home,
caring as little about my new work as if I had been an obscure student
at the Conservatoire; and these two performances at the Opéra Comique
were no better attended than if they had been the most wretched operas
on the list."
The opening scene introduces Faust alone in the fields at sunrise on the
Hungarian plains. He gives expression to his delight in a tender, placid
strain ("The Winter has departed, Spring is here"). It is followed by an
instrumental prelude of a pastoral character, in which are heard
fragments of the roundelay of the peasants and of the fanfare in the
Hungarian march, leading up to the "Dance of Peasants," a brisk,
vivacious chorus ("The Shepherd donned his best Array"), beginning with
the altos, who are finally joined by the sopranos, tenors, and basses in
constantly accelerating time. The scene then changes to another part of
the plain and discloses the advance of an army to the brilliant and
stirring music of the Rákóczy march.[16]
The second part (Scene IV.) opens in north Germany and discloses Faust
alone in his chamber, as in Gounod's opera; he sings a soliloquy, setting
forth his discontent with worldly happiness, and is about to drown his
sorrow with poison, when he is interrupted by the Easter Hymn ("Christ is
risen from the Dead"), a stately and jubilant six-part chorus, in the
close of which he joins. As it comes to an end he continues his song
("Heavenly Tones, why seek me in the Dust?"), but is again interrupted by
the sudden apparition of Mephistopheles, who mockingly sings, "Oh, pious
Frame of Mind," and entraps him in the compact. They disappear, and we
next find them in Auerbach's cellar in Leipsic, where the carousing
students are singing a rollicking drinking-song ("O what Delight when
Storm is crashing"). The drunken Brander is called upon for a song, and
responds with a characteristic one ("There was a Rat in the Cellar
Nest"), to which the irreverent students improvise a fugue on the word
"Amen," using a motive of the song. Mephistopheles compliments them on
the fugue, and being challenged to give them an air trolls out the lusty
_lied_, "There was a King once reigning, who had a big black Flea," in
the accompaniment of which Berlioz makes some very realistic effects.
Amid the bravas of the drunken students they disappear again, and are
next found in the flowery meadows of the Elbe, where Mephistopheles sings
a most enchanting melody ("In this fair Bower"). Faust is lulled to
slumber, and in his vision hears the chorus of the gnomes and sylphs
("Sleep, happy Faust"), a number of extraordinary beauty and fascinating
charm. Its effect is still further heightened by the sylphs' ballet in
waltz time. As they gradually disappear, Faust wakes and relates to
Mephistopheles his vision of the "angel in human form." The latter
promises to conduct him to her chamber, and they join a party of soldiers
and students who will pass "before thy beauty's dwelling." The finale of
the scene is composed of a stirring soldiers' chorus ("Stoutly-walled
Cities we fain would win") and a characteristic students' song in Latin
("Jam nox stellata"), at first sung separately and then combined with
great skill.
The third part begins with a brief instrumental prelude, in which the
drums and trumpets sound the tattoo, introducing a scene in Marguerite's
chamber, where Faust sings a passionate love-song ("Thou sweet Twilight,
be welcome"), corresponding with the well-known "Salve dimora" in
Gounod's garden scene. At its close Mephistopheles warns him of the
approach of Marguerite and conceals him behind a curtain. She enters, and
in brief recitative tells her dream, in which she has seen the image of
Faust, and discloses her love for him. Then while disrobing she sings the
ballad "There was a King in Thule." As its pathetic strains come to a
close, the music suddenly changes and Mephistopheles in a characteristic
strain summons the will-o'-the-wisps to bewilder the maiden. It is
followed by their lovely and graceful minuet, in which Berlioz again
displays his wonderful command of orchestral realism. It is followed by
Mephistopheles' serenade ("Why dost thou wait at the Door of thy
Lover?"), with a choral accompaniment by the will-o'-the-wisps,
interspersed with demoniac laughter. The last number is a trio ("Angel
adored") for Marguerite, Faust, and Mephistopheles, wonderfully
expressive in its utterances of passion, and closing with a chorus of
mockery which indicates the coming tragedy.
The fourth part opens with a very touching romance ("My Heart with Grief
is heavy"), the familiar "Meine Ruh' ist hin" of Goethe, sung by
Marguerite, and the scene closes with the songs of the soldiers and
students heard in the distance. In the next scene Faust sings a sombre
and powerful invocation to Nature ("O boundless Nature, Spirit sublime").
Mephistopheles is seen scaling the rocks and in agitated recitative tells
his companion the story of Marguerite's crime and imprisonment. He bids
him sign a scroll which will save him from the consequences of the deed,
and Faust thus delivers himself over to the Evil One. Then begins the
wild "Ride to Hell," past the peasants praying at the cross, who flee in
terror as they behold the riders, followed by horrible beasts, monstrous
birds, and grinning, dancing skeletons, until at last they disappear in
an abyss and are greeted by the chorus of the spirits of hell in a
tempest of sound, which is literally a musical pandemonium ("Has! Irimiru
Karabras," etc.) in its discordant vocal strains and in the mighty
dissonances and supernatural effects in the accompaniment. A brief
epilogue, "On Earth," follows, in which Faust's doom is told, succeeded
by a correspondingly brief one, "In Heaven," in which the seraphim plead
for Marguerite. The legend closes with "Marguerite's Glorification," a
jubilant double chorus announcing her pardon and acceptance among the
blest.
[16] This march, though the best known of all Hungarian airs, is liable
to be confounded with others bearing the same name. It forms one of
the group of national patriotic melodies called into existence by the
heroism of the Transylvanian prince Franz Rákótzy, who at the
beginning of the last century fought with rare valor, though little
success, against the dominating power of Austria. Who composed it
remains as unknown as the authorship of its less familiar companions;
but though the origin of the tune, like that of so many others which
nations cherish, is veiled in mystery, the march has enjoyed an
enviable prominence. It was proscribed by the Austrian Government in
the bad days when Hungary was treated as a conquered appanage of the
Hapsburgs; its performance was a criminal act, and the possession of
printed or written copies, if suspected, brought down domiciliary
visits from the police.--_Albert Hall Programmes_, 1874.
BRAHMS.
Johannes Brahms, one of the most eminent of living German composers, was
born at Hamburg, May 7, 1833. His father was a double-bass player in the
orchestra in that city, and devoted his son at a very early age to his
own profession. His first piano teacher was Cossell; but to Edward
Marxsen, the royal music director, he owes his real success as a
composer. Brahms remained in Hamburg until 1853, when he went upon a
concert-tour with Reményí, the eccentric and somewhat sensational
Hungarian, who has been a familiar figure upon the American
concert-stage. He remained with him however but a very short time, for in
October of that year they parted company. Brahms had attracted the notice
of Liszt and Joachim, and it may have been through their advice that the
musical partnership was dissolved. In any event, soon after leaving
Reményí he went to Düsseldorf and visited Schumann, who announced him to
the musical world in a very enthusiastic manner. The next year (1854)
appeared his first works,--three sonatas, a trio and scherzo for piano,
and three books of songs. After a visit to Liszt at Weimar he settled
down as chorus-conductor and music-teacher at the court of Lippe-Detmold,
where he remained a few years. After leaving Detmold he successively
resided in Hamburg, Zürich, and Baden-Baden, though most of his time has
been spent in Vienna, where he has directed the Singakademie and the
concerts of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde. Among his most famous
compositions are a funeral hymn for chorus and wind-band; the "German
Requiem;" "Triumphlied," for double chorus and orchestra;
"Schicksalslied," for chorus and orchestra; six symphonies; variations on
a theme of Haydn, for orchestra; the "Tragic" and "Academic" overtures;
besides several trios, quartets, quintets, sextets, concertos, and
sonatas.
Triumphlied.
"Triumphlied" ("Song of Triumph") was written by Brahms in commemoration
of the victories of German arms and the re-establishment of the Empire,
and is dedicated to "the German Emperor Wilhelm I." It was first
performed at the fifty-first festival of the Lower Rhine at Cologne in
1873. The text is a paraphrase of certain verses in the nineteenth
chapter of Revelation, and reads as follows:--
"Hallelujah, praise the Lord! Honor and power and glory to God!
"For in righteousness and truth the Lord giveth judgment.
"Glory be to God, all ye His servants, and ye that fear Him, all both
humble and mighty.
"Hallelujah, for the omnipotent God hath exalted His kingdom.
"O, be joyful, let all be glad, to Him alone give honor.
"Behold, the heavens opened wide, and yonder a snow-white horse, and on
him sat one called Steadfast and Faithful, who warreth and judgeth all
with righteousness.
"And he treads the wine-press of wrath of the Lord God Almighty.
"Lo! a great name hath he written upon his vesture and upon his girdle.
"A King of kings and Lord of lords! Hallelujah! Amen!"
The scriptural selections are divided into three movements, written for
double chorus (with the exception of two short barytone solos),
orchestra, and organ, and are introduced by a brief instrumental prelude
of a solemn but animated and exultant character, in the closing measures
of which both choirs break in with jubilant shouts of "Hallelujah! praise
the Lord!" The theme of the movement is the stirring old German song
"Heil dir im Siegerkranz,"[17] which is worked up with consummate skill.
The first part closes with a climax of power and contrapuntal effect
hardly to be found elsewhere outside the choruses of Handel.
The second movement ("Glory be to God!") is of the same general character
as the first. After the opening ascription, a short fugue intervenes,
leading to a fresh melody alternately sung by both choruses.
The third movement, after a very brief but spirited orchestral flourish,
opens with an exultant barytone solo ("And behold then the Heavens opened
wide"). The choruses respond with animation ("And yonder a snow-white
Horse"). Again the barytone intervenes ("And lo! a great Name hath He
written"), and then the choruses take up the majestic theme, "King of
Kings and Lord of Lords," each answering the other with triumphant shouts
that gather force and fire as they proceed, and closing with a mighty
hallelujah in which voices, orchestra, and organ join with fullest power
to produce one of the grandest harmonies ever written. The work is one of
extreme difficulty, as the two choirs are treated independently and their
harmonies are complicated, though blended in general effect. Neither
choir receives assistance from the other. In fact, each rank of voices is
required to perform music of the most exacting kind, so that a perfect
performance of this great jubilee hymn requires singers of trained skill
and more than ordinary intelligence. When thus given, few choruses of
modern times reveal such artistic richness and symmetrical proportions.
[17] A German national song, written by Heinrich Harries, a Holstein
clergyman, for the birthday of Christian VII. of Denmark. It was
originally in eight stanzas, but was reduced to five and otherwise
slightly modified for Prussian use by B. G. Schumacher, and in this
form appeared as a "Berliner Volkslied" in the _Spenersche Zeitung_
of Dec. 17, 1793.--_Grove's Dictionary_.
BRUCH.
Max Bruch, one of the most successful choral composers of the present
time, was born at Cologne, Jan. 6, 1838. His father was a government
official, and his mother a singer of more than ordinary ability. He
received his early instructions, under her watchful supervision, from
Professor Breidenstein, at Bonn. In 1852 he continued his studies with
Hiller, Reinecke, and Breuning, at Cologne; and at this time began to
produce compositions which gave unusual promise. In 1865 he was musical
director at Coblenz, and subsequently at Berlin, where he conducted the
Singakademie. In 1867 he was appointed chapel-master to the Prince of
Schwarzburg-Sondershausen,--a post which he held until 1870. Since that
time he has also been honored with a call to the directorship of the
Liverpool Philharmonic Society. For some years past he has lived at Bonn
and Berlin, and devoted himself exclusively to composition. His first
public appearance as a composer was in connection with the performance of
his operetta, "Scherz, List und Rache," set to Goethe's words; following
which he produced several chamber compositions, among them a trio (op.
5), two string quartets (op. 9, 10), Capriccio (op. 2) for four hands,
Fantasie (op. 11) for two pianos, the G minor and D minor violin
concertos, besides two symphonies. He has also written an oratorio,
"Arminius," and two operas, "Loreley," to the text which the poet Geibel
wrote for Mendelssohn, and "Hermione," an adaptation of Shakspeare's
"Winter's Tale." His greatest successes, however, have been made with his
works in the cantata form, as he is a recognized master in writing for
large masses of voices and instruments, though many of his solo melodies
possess great beauty. In this class of his compositions the most
conspicuous are "Scenes from the Frithjof-Saga," familiarly known as
"Frithjof," "Flight of the Holy Family," "Roman Triumph Song," "Roman
Obsequies," "Salamis," "Fair Ellen," "Odysseus," and "Rorate Coeli."
Frithjof.
The story of the old Norse hero Frithjof is told with exceeding spirit
and beauty in the "Frithjof's Saga" of Esaias Tegnér, Bishop of Wexiö,
Sweden, which has been translated into almost every European language,
and to which music has been adapted by Crusell, Hedda Wrangel, Boman,
Sandberg, Zanders, Caroline Ridderstolpe, Panny, Silcher, and other
Scandinavian and German composers. It was Bishop Tegnér's Saga from which
Bruch derived the incidents of his musical setting of this stirring Norse
theme.[18]
To make the text of the libretto intelligible, the incidents leading up
to it must be briefly told. Frithjof was the son of Thorstein, a friend
of King Bele of Baldershage, and was in love with Ingeborg, the king's
daughter and his foster sister. Bele died, and left his kingdom to his
two sons. When Thorstein passed away, he bequeathed to his son his ship
"Ellida" and his gold ring. Soon thereafter Frithjof sailed across the
fiord to demand the hand of Ingeborg. Her brothers Helge and Halfdan
scorned his suit, whereupon Frithjof swore they should never have help
from him. King Ring, a neighboring monarch, hearing of the trouble
between them, improved the opportunity to menace their kingdom. The
brothers appealed to Frithjof for aid, but he turned a deaf ear; and when
they took the field against Bele, he returned to Baldershage and made
love to Ingeborg, with whom he exchanged rings. Helge and Halfdan were
defeated by Ring, and as part of the indemnity he demanded Ingeborg's
hand. Finding upon their return that Frithjof had been there without
their permission, they required him as a penalty to go to the Orkneys and
collect the tribute which the islanders had neglected to pay since the
death of Bele. Frithjof sailed away in "Ellida." Meanwhile the brothers
resorted to witchcraft to raise a storm that should destroy his vessel,
burned his barrow, and married the lamenting Ingeborg to Ring.
It is at this point that the text of the cantata begins. The first scene
pictures the return of Frithjof and his joy at the prospect of seeing
Ingeborg, whose hand the false brothers had promised him if he were
successful. Learning what had occurred in his absence, Frithjof goes to
the temple where the kings are sacrificing, hurls the tribute in Helge's
face, fires the edifice, and hurries to the sea, pursued by his enemies.
The hero sails away again in "Ellida," and becomes a sea-rover. The text
closes with this incident. In the Saga, after gaining great fame,
Frithjof returns and goes disguised as a salt-burner to Ring's palace.
The king recognized him, and moved by his sad story became his friend and
appointed him guardian of his heir. Ring died soon after, and Frithjof
married Ingeborg. Helge and Halfdan made war against him, Helge was
killed, and Halfdan became his vassal.
The cantata opens with an animated instrumental introduction, "Frithjof's
Return," leading to the barytone recitative and aria ("How bravely o'er
the Flood so bright"),--a very expressive song, interspersed with the
tender, graceful chorus of his companions ("O, 'tis Delight when the Land
far appeareth"). The second scene is preluded with a wedding march, whose
blithe measures are in marked contrast with the bridal chorus ("Sadly the
Skald walks before the Train"), and Ingeborg's song ("My Heart with
Sorrow overflowing"), which describes her grief over her unhappy destiny.
The third scene ("Frithjof's Revenge"), for barytone, chorus, and
orchestra, is one of great power in its dramatic and descriptive
character, as well as in its masterly instrumentation. It begins with a
chorus of priests ("Midnight Sun on the Mountain burns"), gradually
accelerating until it is interrupted by Frithjof's cry ("Go to Helas'
dark Abode"). Three bars of chorus intervene ("Woe! O wicked Deed"), when
Frithjof, after a short recitative, sings a spirited aria ("Where my
Father rests"). At its close, as he rescues Ingeborg's ring and fires the
temple, the chorus resumes ("Woe! he tugs with all his Might at the
Ring"). The choral finale of this scene, with its effective
instrumentation, is a masterpiece of dramatic music, worthy to rank with
the highest work of its kind in opera. After the storm, the calm. In that
calm occurs a melodical episode of an extraordinary character. The melody
itself is so unlike anything which precedes or follows it that it must
have been interpolated. In grateful contrast with the revenge of
Frithjof, the burning of the temple, and the curses of the infuriated
priests, comes the fourth scene, "Frithjof's Departure from the
Northland,"--a solo quartet for male voices ("Sun in the Sky now mounteth
high"), of exquisite harmony, leading up to and accompanying a barytone
solo which has rarely been surpassed in the tender beauty of its melody
or the majestic sonority of its style:[19]--
"World's grandest region, thou mighty North!
From thy dominions I am driven forth;
Within thy border I lov'd to dwell;
Midsummer sun, farewell, farewell.
Thou mighty North, farewell.
My love is foiled, my roof-tree rent,
Mine honor soiled, I in exile sent!
Cheerless is my soul within me,
Hopeless I must bear my lot.
Ye rugged mountains, where heroes dwell,
And Thor commandeth clouds and winds;
Ye azure lakes, that I love so well,
Ye woods and brakes, farewell."
The fifth scene is Ingeborg's lament for her lost lover ("Storms wildly
roar"),--a soprano solo, which, if not as dramatic as the music assigned
to Frithjof, is nevertheless full of beautiful sentiment. The work closes
with a delightful chorus, with short phrases for Frithjof ("Now he
crosseth the Floods of the salt desert Waste"), supposed to be sung on
board the hero's good ship "Ellida" as they sail off for conquest and the
enjoyment of the booty he has promised his companions.
[18] An admirable translation of the Saga was made by George Stephens,
published in London and Stockholm in 1839. It includes besides the
Saga, a life of Tegnér, by Bishop Franzén of Hernösand, Sweden; the
Frithjof literature; description of Ingeborg's Arm Ring, by
Hildebrand, the Royal Antiquarian of Sweden; Crusell's songs; and
numerous notes and illustrations.
[19] In the original Saga the "Farewell" has six verses, the first,
second, and sixth of which are thus literally translated:--
"Heimskringla's forehead,
Thou lofty North!
Away I'm hurried
From this thine earth.
My race from thee goes,
I boasting tell;
Now, nurse of heroes,
Farewell! Farewell!
"Farewell, high-gleaming
Walhalla's throne,
Night's eye, bright-beaming,
Midsummer's sun!
Sky! where, as in hero's
Soul, pure depths dwell,
And thronging star-rows,
Farewell! Farewell!
* * * * *
"My love insulted,
My palace brent,
My honor tarnished,
In exile sent,
From land in sadness
To the sea we appeal,
But life's young gladness,
Farewell! Farewell!"
Salamis.
"Salamis, Triumphal Hymn of the Greeks" was written in 1862. It is a
composition mostly for male chorus, and is admirably adapted for festival
purposes. The poem, which celebrates the defeat of Xerxes, is by H.
Lingg, and runs as follows:--
"Adorn the ships with Persian trophies!
Let the purple sails be swelled!
Joy floats about the masts!
Evoe, the mighty foe, is vanquished!
We broke, O sea, we broke the bond,
Which the Persian Prince threw around thy neck.
Thou rollest now unfettered, no longer embittered
By the hateful trampling of the horses,
Which thy waving surface,
Thy bridge-fettered wrath, bore reluctantly.
Fate overtook Xerxes
And achieved a Hellenic victory on the waves.
To the tyrant, to the arbitrary master,
Did not succumb the people that dwell by the sea,
For the old ruler of the sea filled his beloved race
With boundless courage for the sea-fight.
All around, the waves with delight
Hear many an Ionic song;
They roar and join the pæan
After the splendid struggle
There arise dithyrambic days of liberty!"
The instrumental introduction to the work is written in massive style,
its grand chorus being elegantly interwoven with runs by the wood
instruments, preparing the way for the festive adorning of the ships,--a
very beautiful allegro movement. This is followed by a slower movement
which pictures the breaking of the bond, the rolling of the sea, and the
trampling of the horses with all that vividness for which the composer is
famous. It is succeeded by a passage which is very stately, particularly
in the basses ("Fate overtook Xerxes"), leading up to the grand climax
("All around, the Waves with Delight"), when the orchestra and voices are
in splendid accord. After a short repetition of the opening allegro the
hymn closes. It would be hard to find a more admirable musical setting of
a poem than this, whether in the strength and beauty of its vocal parts,
or in the color, vigor, and general effectiveness of the instrumentation.
Fair Ellen.
The heroic defence of Lucknow by its British garrison in 1857, during the
Sepoy rebellion, is one of the most memorable events in the English
administration of India. The world is familiar with the story of the
disaffection of the native troops, the failure of Sir Henry Lawrence, who
was in command, to overcome the mutiny, the stubborn defence which the
brave little garrison made against the repeated assaults of the native
troops, their temporary assistance from Outram and Havelock, who cut
their way into the city, and the final relief which was brought to them
by Sir Colin Campbell. Of all the stirring incidents of the siege,
however, not one has made such a strong impression as the fanciful story
of the Scotch girl who heard the slogan of the MacGregors far away and
knew the Highlanders were coming to their rescue.
It is this incident which Bruch has used as the theme of his cantata
"Schön Ellen" ("Fair Ellen"). The story is identical with the one so
often told in prose and poetry, but the _dramatis personæ_ differ.
Instead of General Lawrence we have Lord Edward, and instead of familiar
Jessie Brown we have "Fair Ellen." The text of the libretto is weak and
spiritless as compared with that of the poetical versions. The salient
point of the story is thus versified in the former:--
"The Campbells are coming, I told you true;
I hear the bugle blowing:
The pibroch is borne adown the wind,
The tones on the breezes quiver;
'Neath the tread of battalions that hurry along
Afar the plains do shiver."
Compare the above with the corresponding verses from Robert Lowell's fine
poem:--
"The Highlanders! O dinna ye hear
The slogan far awa?
The MacGregors? Ah! I ken it weel;
It's the grandest of them a'.
* * * * *
"Then Jessie said, 'The slogan's dune,
But can ye no hear them noo?
The Campbells are comin'! It's nae a dream;
Our succors hae broken through."
Weak as the text may be, the strong healthy music of the cantata makes
ample compensation. It is quite brief, there being but two solo parts,
"Fair Ellen" (soprano) and Lord Edward (barytone), and five short chorus
numbers. The former are vigorous and somewhat declamatory in style, but
the choruses are very melodious and stirring. The instrumentation is
unusually effective, and a fine point is made in the climax by the
interweaving of the familiar air, "The Campbells are Coming," with the
orchestral score. It lends spirit and color to the finale, and closes up
the work with a fine burst of powerful effect. Short as it is, "Fair
Ellen" will always be a favorite with popular audiences.
Odysseus.
The cantata of "Odysseus," like that of "Frithjof," is made up of
detached scenes, in this case selected from the Odyssey and arranged by
William Paul Graff. The work was first produced in 1872, and has met with
great success in Germany, England, and the United States. It is divided
into two parts, the first containing four, and the second, six scenes.
The characters are as numerous as those of a grand opera, and include
Odysseus, barytone; Penelope, alto; Alcinoos, King of the Pheaces, bass;
Arete, his consort, alto; Nausicaa, their daughter, soprano; the
Helmsman, bass; Pallas Athene, soprano; Leucothea, soprano; Spirit of
Tiresias, bass; Spirit of Anticlia, Odysseus' mother, alto; and Hermes,
tenor. In performance, however, the parts of Arete and the Spirit of
Anticlia, as well as of Nausicaa and Pallas Athene, are usually doubled.
The choruses, which are a very important feature of the work, are
assigned to Odysseus' companions, Spirits of the Departed, Sirens,
Tritons, Nymphs of the sea, Pheaces, Rhapsodes, boatmen and people of
Ithaca.
In the first scene Odysseus is discovered on Calypso's enchanted island
longing for home. Hermes, the messenger of the gods, appears to him and
announces that the Immortals, touched by his sorrow, will rescue him and
restore him to Penelope. In the next scene the wanderer has reached the
abysses of Erebus, "where, loud thundering, the flood of Cocytus pours
its black wave into Acheron's tide." Here he invokes the world of shades.
The spirits of children, brides, youths, and old men successively appear
to him and narrate their mournful stories. Then Tiresias the bard warns
him of the Sirens, and Anticlia his mother bids him hasten to Penelope.
In the third scene he passes the isles of the Sirens, and escapes their
wiles through the firmness of his companions. The fourth scene describes
the storm at sea, the wreck of the vessel, and Odysseus' rescue by
Leucothea, who gives him the veil the Immortals have woven, and bids the
Oceanides and Tritons guide him safely to land; and the first part closes
with our hero peacefully sleeping on the flowery shore of the island of
Pheacia.
The second part opens with the lament of Penelope and her prayer to the
gods to restore her husband to her. The sixth scene changes to the island
again, and discloses Odysseus awakened from his slumbers by the sports
and dances of Nausicaa and her joyful maidens. He appeals to her for help
and refreshment, and is bidden to partake of their hospitality. In the
next scene a sumptuous banquet is spread for him, at which he reveals his
identity and asks that he be allowed to return to his home. The fair
Nausicaa, though suddenly enamoured of the handsome stranger, conceals
her passion and expedites his departure. The eighth scene gives us a
sketch of Penelope weaving the garment, the _ruse_ by which she kept her
suitors aloof.
"This garment by day I weave in my sorrow,
And ravel the web in the still hour of night;
Thus wearying long, yet my tears greet the morrow,
Hope vanishes as the long years take flight."
The ninth scene opens with the arrival of Odysseus at Ithaca. The
sleeping wanderer is borne ashore by his comrades, and upon awaking from
his slumbers fails to recognize his own country until Pallas Athene
appears to him. The goddess convinces him that he is at home once more,
and then discloses the plot of the suitors, who are revelling in his
palace, to compel Penelope to select one of them that day in order that
they may gain possession of his property, as well as their conspiracy for
his destruction, from which she promises to protect him. The final scene
describes the glad acclamations of the people as they recognize Odysseus,
and the joy of Penelope as she welcomes him home once more.
The orchestral introduction is very free and flowing in character, and
its themes are taken from the duet of Odysseus and Penelope, which occurs
later on. The opening chorus of Calypso's nymphs ("Here, O Hermes, in
midst of the Island") is very graceful in its movement and is set to a
most delightful accompaniment. It is followed by Odysseus' lament ("Flow,
ye Tears, since Days are hateful"), at first tender in its character,
then changing to passionate utterances as the remembrance of Penelope
comes to him, and closing with a hopeful strain after the promise of help
from Zeus. In the second or Hades scene the music changes from its bright
color to a gloomier minor tone. It opens with a male chorus ("The Bounds
we have reached of the deep flowing Ocean"), pianissimo, gradually
increasing in intensity and accompanied by remarkable effects in
tone-color as the orchestra describes "the thundering of the flood
Cocytus" and "the surging aloft of the shadows of the departed." It is
followed by semi-choruses of the shades, and closes with a very spirited
and dramatic male chorus ("Dread on Dread! Lo, surging aloft, the
numberless Hosts of Departed"). The third scene opens with a fresh and
characteristic male chorus ("Our Sails to the Breezes"), followed by the
graceful and alluring chorus of the sirens ("Come, great Odysseus, Hero
of Might"). The last scene is almost entirely choral and very dramatic in
its effect, especially the opening number for the Oceanides and Tritons
("Hark! the Storm gathers from afar"), with its vigorous instrumental
description of the tempest, and the closing number for full chorus
("Yonder beckons the wood-crested Harbor"), which in its tenderness and
joyousness forms a striking contrast to the earlier part of the scene.
The second part is introduced with a dignified and sombre recitative
("Thou far-darting Sun"), followed by an aria of the same character ("Oh!
Atritone") in which Penelope bewails the absence of Odysseus. In the next
scene the music changes to a bright and tripping strain, the chorus of
Nausicaa's maidens ("On the flowery Mead, girt by the dimpling Tide"),
which closely resembles that of Calypso's nymphs in the first scene.
After Odysseus' fervent appeal ("Hark to me! Queen, or heaven-dwelling
Goddess") the banquet scene occurs. It begins with an animated chorus of
the Pheacians ("Be welcome, Stranger, to Pheacia's Land"), followed by an
exquisite unison chorus of the Rhapsodes ("Ten Years now are past since
Troy in the Dust was laid"), set to an accompaniment of harps. A simple
and tender melody ("Let me then depart in Peace"), sung by Odysseus, in
which the chorus singers gradually join, closes the scene. The eighth
scene contains the most expressive solo number of the work, Penelope's
aria ("This Garment by Day I weave in my Sorrow"), with a characteristic
descriptive accompaniment. The gems of the ninth scene are Odysseus'
passionate aria ("O my Fatherland! blest Remembrance!") and his furious
revenge song ("Miscreant! woe to Thee"). The last scene opens with a
joyous chorus of the people ("Say, have ye heard the Tidings of Joy?"),
followed by a fervent duet between Odysseus and Penelope ("Omnipotent
Zeus! we call on thy Name"). The final chorus begins in chorale style
("In Flames ascending"), and after repeating the melody of Odysseus' song
in the seventh scene ("Nowhere abides such Delight"), closes with a fine
fugued passage ("Slayer of Darkness").
BUCK.
Dudley Buck, one of the most eminent of American organists and composers,
was born March 10, 1839, at Hartford, Conn., where his father was engaged
in the mercantile business. He studied both the piano and organ, the
latter with such success that at the age of sixteen he was appointed
organist at St. John's Church in his native city. In 1858 he went to
Europe and entered the Leipsic Conservatory, where he studied the piano
with Plaidy and Moscheles, and composition with Hauptmann and Richter.
After remaining there a year and a half he went to Dresden and began the
study of Bach's music with Johann Schneider. A year and a half later he
went to Paris, and there acquainted himself with French music and
musicians. He returned to this country in 1862, and accepted the position
of organist at the Park Church, Hartford, but after the death of his
parents removed to Chicago, where he obtained the position of organist at
St. James's Episcopal Church, and also devoted much of his time to
teaching and composition. In that city his home became a musical centre.
His library, fine organ, and music-room were great attractions, and he
had laid the foundation of a brilliant musical career, when the great
fire of 1871 swept away his entire property, including many manuscript
compositions. Like many other musicians at that time he left the city,
seeing no prospect of advantage to him where it would require a long time
to recover purely material losses. He went with his family to Boston,
where his fame was already established, and obtained the position of
organist at St. Paul's Church, as well as the charge of the large organ
in the Music Hall. After remaining a short time in that city he removed
to New York, where he has since resided. His life has been a very busy
one, and he has had an important influence, both personally and in
connection with Theodore Thomas, upon the progress of music in this
country. It is not extravagant to say that there are few Protestant
churches whose music has not been dignified and improved by his
contributions, particularly of anthems and Te Deums, as well as of
compositions for the organ, of which he is a consummate master. Singing
societies are also indebted to him for many elegant four-part songs.
Among his larger works are the cantata "Don Munio" (1874); the
"Centennial," written for the Centennial at Philadelphia; "The Nun of
Nidaros" (1878); "The Golden Legend," which was the prize cantata at the
Cincinnati Festival of 1880; an Easter cantata; the Forty-sixth Psalm,
written for the Boston Handel and Haydn Society; two volumes of sacred
songs and motets; "Marmion," a symphonic overture, and other works for
orchestra; the cantatas "Voyage of Columbus" (1885) and the "Light of
Asia" (1886). The last two cantatas were issued in Europe, the one in
Germany and the other in England, and thus came to this country bearing a
foreign imprint,--a novelty for an American composer.
Don Munio
"Don Munio," a dramatic cantata for solos, chorus, and orchestra, was
written in 1874. The story of it is taken from Washington Irving's
Spanish papers, and the scene is laid in the period of the wars with the
Moors. While hunting one morning, Don Munio de Hinojosa captures a
cavalcade which is escorting the Moorish Prince, Abadil, and his
betrothed, Constanza, on the way to their wedding. The Prince, all escape
being cut off, seeks to purchase the good-will of Don Munio with his gold
and jewels, and implores him not to separate him from his affianced. The
Don, touched by their unfortunate condition, invites them to spend a
fortnight at his castle, promising that the nuptials shall be celebrated
there, and then they shall be released. The lovers accept, and Don Munio
is faithful to his promise. Shortly after their departure he is ordered
by the king to join in the expedition to Palestine. In one of the
encounters of this crusade he is killed by Abadil, who does not recognize
his former benefactor with his visor closed. His death is greatly mourned
in Spain, but they are consoled when Roderigo, a messenger from
Palestine, arrives and tells them that one evening while strolling near
the Holy Sepulchre he saw seventy Christian knights riding in ghostly
procession, with the late Don Munio at their head. This is regarded as an
assurance that all is well with him. _Requiescat in pace._
These are the incidents which Mr. Buck has chosen for musical treatment,
and he has done the work excellently well. After the orchestral
introduction follows a spirited hunting-song for male chorus. The next
scene opens in the chamber of Donna Maria, wife of Don Munio, who laments
his absence in a minor strain, to which succeeds a rondo movement. The
third is religious in character, marked "Evening. Close of vesper service
in the chapel of the castle. Escobedo, the chaplain, with the women, and
such retainers as have not followed Don Munio on his expedition." It
begins with a prelude closing with full orchestra and organ, and leading
to barytone solo and chorus, and a short exhortation to prayer by
Escobedo. The next number is an Ave Maria for full chorus, which is very
beautifully harmonized. In the next scene we encounter Don Munio in the
forest, and are treated to the conventional hunting-song. The next number
hints at the approach of the Moors, which is soon disclosed by a pretty
three-part chorus of "the females of the Moorish cavalcade as they
journey." The eighth scene contains some powerful chorus work, divided
between the furious Spaniards and the frightened women, and set to a very
vigorous accompaniment. After the tumult ends, Abadil very melodiously
appeals to Don Munio, followed by a brief arioso in which the latter
makes his terms, and a spirited chorus of gratitude to the Don, which
close the first part.
After a short prelude, the second part opens with a tenor aria for Abadil
("O, thou my Star") which is very refined in sentiment. It is followed by
the chorale "Jesu, dulcis Memoria," sung by the chapel choir. A duet
ensues between the two lovers on the castle terrace, which is very
Italian in its flavor, and one of the most effective numbers in the
cantata. The next two numbers furnish the wedding music,--a happy bridal
chorus, and a charming bolero for orchestra. These lead to an
unaccompanied quartet between Don Munio, Donna Maria, Abadil, and
Constanza ("It is the Lot of Friends to part"). In the next scene occurs
a vigorous duet between Don Munio and his wife, in which he informs her
of his speedy departure for Palestine, followed by a stirring battle-hymn
for male chorus. The next scene, "The chapel of the castle, choir
chanting the dirge for the dead," is in strong contrast with the
preceding. Mr. Buck has rarely written anything better in his sacred
music than this beautiful requiem. In the next two numbers the messenger
describes the manner of Don Munio's death, and the ghostly vision at the
sepulchre, and at the end of his message the requiem changes to a
jubilant chorus of gratitude ("In thankful Hymns ascending"). "Don Munio"
is one of the most powerful and spontaneous of American compositions, and
needs but little more amplification to deserve the name of opera.
The Centennial Meditation of Columbia.
The National Centennial celebration at Philadelphia was inaugurated May
10, 1876, with a special musical programme, in which the cantata with the
above formidable title occupied a prominent place. The ode was written by
Sydney Lanier, of Georgia, a poet who prior to that time had made
considerable reputation by two poems printed in "Lippincott's Magazine."
The national idea was satisfied by assigning the music to Dudley Buck, at
that time living in Connecticut. It must be acknowledged that the work
did not make a deep impression, although it contains some excellent
musical writing, and for two sufficient reasons. First, it is not a work
of musical genius or inspiration, as it was ordered by a commission for a
popular show. It was not singular in this respect. The "Centennial
March," written by Richard Wagner, for the same occasion, is page after
page of sound and fury, executed for a most exorbitant remuneration. To
ascertain its real want of inspiration one has but to place it by the
side of the "Kaiser March," with its massive chords, its grand thematic
treatment, and its stately movement, the outcome of patriotic fervor and
national triumph. Second, the stilted and unmusical lines furnished by
Mr. Lanier must have hampered the composer in every verse. This is all
the more remarkable because Mr. Lanier himself was a practical musician.
He had been for some time a violinist in the Peabody orchestra at
Baltimore, under that accomplished leader, Asgar Hamerik. It is
remarkable, therefore, that he should not have recognized the
difficulties he was placing in the way both of the composer and the
performers.
The ode has sixty-one lines, divided into eight stanzas of unequal
lengths. It sketches the past and present of the nation, the powers which
opposed its progress and hindered the development of its freedom, and the
elements which at last produced success, closing with cheering auguries
for the future, and a welcome to the world. All this might have been set
to smooth and fluent verse, which would readily have adapted itself to
music; but what composer could have treated successfully such verses as
these?--
"Mayflower, Mayflower, slowly hither flying,
Trembling westward o'er yon balking sea,
Hearts within, 'Farewell, dear England,' sighing,
Winds without, 'But dear in vain,' replying,
Gray-lipp'd waves about thee shouted, crying,
'No! it shall not be!'
"Jamestown, out of thee--
Plymouth, thee--thee, Albany--
Winter cries, 'Ye freeze; away!'
Fever cries, 'Ye burn; away!'
Hunger cries, 'Ye starve; away!'
Vengeance cries, 'Your graves shall stay!'
"Hark!
Huguenots whispering 'Yea' in the dark,
Puritans answering 'Yea' in the dark!
'Yea,' like an arrow shot true to his mark,
Darts through the tyrannous heart of Denial.
Patience and Labor and solemn-souled Trial,
Foiled, still beginning,
Soiled, but not sinning,
Toil through the stertorous death of the Night,
Toil, when wild brother-wars new-dark the light,
Toil, and forgive, and kiss o'er, and re-plight."
Even in the last verse, where the composer must make his climax, and the
singers must be most effective, they are confronted with this unsingable
line:--
"And wave the world's best lover's welcome to the world."
The only musical verse is the reply of the angel to Columbia in the midst
of her ragged and cacophonous meditation, which the composer selected as
a solo for bass voice:[20]--
"Long as thine Art shall love true love,
Long as thy Science truth shall know,
Long as thine Eagle harms no Dove,
Long as thy Law by law shall grow,
Long as thy God is God above,
Thy brother every man below,
So long, dear Land of all my love,
Thy name shall shine, thy fame shall grow."
The prelude for orchestra determines the motive of the whole cantata, and
is very spirited; for here, at least, the composer was not hampered by
words. The opening verse,--
"From this hundred-terraced height,"
is set very effectively in chorale form; but the next two verses, already
quoted, are arranged for semi-chorus and full chorus, and close in a
vocal stretto quite as hysterical as the words. Then follows the
whispering of the Huguenots and Puritans, commencing _sotto voce_, and
gradually increasing to a _forte_ at the close. A few bars for the horn
lead to the bass solo, "Long as thine Art," with horn obligato,--a very
impressive and dignified aria, and one which would speedily become a
favorite in the concert-room if adapted to the words. The final number
("Music from this Height of Time") begins in full choral harmony and
closes with a vigorous and well-written fugue.
[20] Sung upon that occasion by Mr. Myron D. Whitney.
The Golden Legend.
"The Golden Legend" was written in competition for the prize of one
thousand dollars, which the Cincinnati May Festival Association offered
in 1879 for the best work of a native composer. The judges were Theodore
Thomas, Otto Singer, Asgar Hamerik, Carl Zerrahn, and the late Dr.
Leopold Damrosch. Their award was made to "The Golden Legend," and it was
first performed at the Festival of 1880, with Miss Annie B. Norton as
Elsie, Mr. Frederick Harvey as Prince Henry, Mr. J. F. Rudolphsen as
Lucifer, and Mr. M. D. Whitney as Friar Paul.
The text of the cantata is composed of a prologue, epilogue, and twelve
scenes taken from Longfellow's Episode in "Christus" by the same name.
The mediæval story is a very simple one. Prince Henry of Hoheneck,
stricken down with an incurable ailment, after vainly seeking a remedy,
is visited by Lucifer disguised as a physician, who tempts him to adopt a
remedy prescribed by a doctor of Salerno; namely, the blood of a maiden
who will voluntarily offer herself as a sacrifice. Elsie devotes her life
to the Prince, and they journey together to Salerno, where her death must
take place. Arrived at the spot, the Prince, touched by her magnanimity,
entreats her to forego her purpose; but she insists upon it, bids him
farewell in the school, and enters an inner apartment with Lucifer
disguised as a friar. Before the tragedy can be consummated, the Prince
bursts open the door, with the aid of his followers, and rescues her. The
pair return to the castle on the Rhine, where of course the rapidly
convalescing Prince marries Elsie, and the story closes with an epilogue
reciting the discomfiture of Lucifer and the triumph of good over evil.
Out of this material the composer has constructed his work, eliminating
from and adding to the original matter to suit his musical scheme, but at
the same time preserving the general spirit of the story. After a very
spirited and energetic prelude, the prologue begins with the fruitless
attempt of Lucifer to pull down the cross on the spire of Strasburg
cathedral, the protests of the spirits of the air (first and second
sopranos), the defiance of the bells (male chorus) as each attempt fails,
and the final disappearance of the spirits amid the chanting of the
majestic Latin hymn, "Nocte surgentes," by full chorus in the church,
accompanied by the organ. The second scene opens in Prince Henry's
chamber in the tower of the Vautsberg castle, and reminds one of the
opening scene of "Faust," as set by Gounod. After an expressive
declamation of his melancholy and his longing for rest and health ("I
cannot sleep, my fervid Brain calls up the vanished Past again"), Lucifer
appears in a flash of light, dressed as a travelling physician, and a
dialogue ensues, the purport of which has already been told, which closes
with an ingenious and beautifully-written number for the two voices,
accompanied by a four-part chorus of mixed voices and a small semi-chorus
of sopranos and altos ("Golden Visions wave and hover"). The fourth scene
is an unaccompanied quartet, "The Evening Song," sung by Elsie, Bertha,
Max, and Gottlieb in their peasant home in the Odenwald, as they light
the lamps ("O gladsome Light of the Father"). It is a simple, tranquil
hymn, but full of that sacred sentiment which this composer expresses so
admirably in music. The fifth scene, Elsie's prayer in her chamber ("My
Redeemer and my Lord"), in its calm beauty and religious feeling makes a
fitting pendant to the quartet. In the next number, the orchestra is
utilized to carry on the action, and in march tempo describes the
pilgrimage to Salerno with stately intervals, in which is heard the
sacred song, "Urbs coelestis, urbs beata," supposed to be sung by the
pilgrims "moving slowly on their long journey with uncovered feet." The
seventh scene is laid in the refectory of the convent of Hirschau, in the
Black Forest, where Lucifer enters the gaudiolum of monks, disguised as a
friar, and sings the rollicking Latin drinking-song, "Ave color vini
clari," which Mr. Edmund C. Stedman versified for this work as follows:--
"Hail! thou vintage clear and ruddy!
Sweet of taste and fine of body,
Through thine aid we soon shall study
How to make us glorious!
"Oh! thy color erubescent!
Oh! thy fragrance evanescent!
Oh! within the mouth how pleasant!
Thou the tongue's prætorius!
"Blest the stomach where thou wendest!
Blest the throat which thou distendest!
Blest the mouth which thou befriendest,
And the lips victorious!
Chorus of Monks.
"Pour the wine, then, pour it!
Let the wave bear all before it!
There's none to score it,
So pour it in plenty, pour it!"
The next number is for orchestra only, and once more the instruments are
used for a continuance of the action by a description of the carousal of
the monks in a characteristic allegro bacchanale, the abbot testifying
his indignation through the medium of the trombone and the use of the
Gregorian melody. The sentiment of the latter is expressed by the
following verse:--
"What mean this revel and carouse?
Is this a tavern and drinking-house?
Are you Christian monks or heathen devils,
To pollute this convent with your revels?"
The ninth scene changes to Genoa. Elsie, on a terrace overlooking the
sea, sings a charming aria ("The Night is calm and cloudless"), with a
choral refrain of "Kyrie Eleison." The tenth is a graceful barcarolle for
orchestra, but it is somewhat in the nature of an interpolation, and is
only connected with the movement of the story by a thin thread, as will
be seen from the verse which gives its motive:--
"The fisherman who lies afloat,
With shadowy sail in yonder boat,
Is singing softly to the night.
A single step and all is o'er;
And thou, dear Elsie, wilt be free
From martyrdom and agony."
The eleventh scene is a spirited and beautifully-written male chorus of
sailors ("The Wind upon our Quarter lies"). The twelfth reaches the
climax in the scene at the college of Salerno between Lucifer, Elsie, and
the Prince, with accompaniment of attendants, and is very dramatic
throughout. It is followed by a tender love-duet for Elsie and the Prince
on the terrace of the castle of Vautsberg, which leads to the epilogue,
"O Beauty of Holiness," for full chorus and orchestra, in which the
composer is at his very best both in the construction of the vocal parts
and the elaborately worked-up accompaniments.
The Voyage of Columbus.
"The Voyage of Columbus" was written in 1885, and first published in
Germany. The text of the libretto was prepared by the composer himself,
extracts from Washington Irving's "Columbus" forming the theme of each of
the six scenes, all of which are supposed to transpire at evening, and
are therefore styled by the composer "night-scenes." Their arrangement,
which is very skilfully accomplished, is as follows:--
Scene I. In the chapel of St. George at Palos, Aug. 2, 1492. "The
squadron being ready to put to sea, Columbus, with his officers and crew,
confessed themselves to the friar, Juan Perez. They entered upon the
enterprise full of awe, committing themselves to the especial guidance
and protection of Heaven."