which characterizes Raymond. The chorus part is very romantic in its
style, and is set to a graceful, poetical accompaniment. The opening
number introduces Melusina and her nymphs in a chorus extolling their
watery abode ("For the Flood is life-giving"). In the second number she
describes the passion she feels when thinking of Raymond. The song is
interrupted by horn signals indicating the approach of her lover and his
hunters, who join in a fresh, vigorous hunting-song and then disperse. In
the fourth number Raymond gives expression to his love for Melusina,
followed by a fervid duet between them, in which the lovers interchange
vows of constancy. The sixth number, describing their engagement in
presence of the nymphs, and concluding with a stirring chorus of nymphs
and hunters, closes the first part.
The second part begins with a theme from the love-duet, followed by a
significant theme in the minor, ominous of approaching danger. In the
eighth number the people clamor in furious chorus for the witch. In the
ninth, a trio and chorus, Clotilda warns her son of the misery he has
brought upon his house and people, and urges him to discover what his
wife does on the seventh day. The next number introduces Melusina and her
nymphs in the bath, the former singing a plaintive song ("Love is
freighted with Sorrow and Care"). A noise is heard at the gate, and the
nymphs join in a chorus in canon form ("Hark! hark! Who has come to
watch"). As Raymond appears, the scene grows very dramatic. The king of
the water-spirits is summoned; but before he rises from the water
Melusina, in very melodious recitative, laments her lover's treason. The
scene culminates in the sentence, "Let Death be his lot." He is spared by
her intercession, but she is commanded to return to the flood. Raymond
appeals for forgiveness, and a part of the love-duet is repeated. The
final embrace is fatal to him, and he dies in her arms. The chorus
repeats the melody of the opening number ("For the Flood is
life-giving"), and she bids her dead lover a last farewell, and
disappears with the nymphs and water-spirits, singing, "Forget with the
Dwellers on Earth all earthly Woe." The epilogue is substantially the
same as the prologue.
LESLIE.
Henry David Leslie was born in London, June 18, 1822, and in his
sixteenth year began his musical studies with Charles Lucas, a famous
violoncellist and for a long time principal of the Royal Academy of
Music. Like his master, Leslie played the violoncello several years in
the concerts of the Sacred Harmonic Society, subsequently becoming its
conductor,--a position which he held until 1861. In 1855 he organized the
famous Leslie choir of one hundred voices, which took the first prize at
the international competition of 1878 in Paris. In 1863 he was chosen
conductor of the Herefordshire Philharmonic Society, and in the following
year became principal of the National College of Music. In 1874 he was
appointed conductor of the Guild of Amateur Musicians in London. He has
been a prolific and very popular composer, among his works being the
following: Te Deum and Jubilate in D (1846); symphony in F (1847);
anthem, "Let God arise" (1849); overture, "The Templar" (1852); oratorio,
"Immanuel" (1853); operetta, "Romance, or Bold Dick Turpin" (1857);
oratorio, "Judith," written for the Birmingham Festival (1858); cantata,
"Holyrood" (1860); cantata, "The Daughter of the Isles" (1861); and the
opera "Ida" (1864). In addition to these he has written a large number of
songs, anthems, part songs, madrigals, and piano pieces, besides music
for his choir.
Holyrood.
"Holyrood" was written in 1861, and was first produced in February of
that year at St. James's Hall, London. Leslie's collaborator was the
accomplished scholar Chorley, who has certainly prepared one of the most
refined and attractive librettos ever furnished a composer. The story
represents an episode during the period of Queen Mary's innocent life,
overshadowed in the close by the dismal prophecy of the terrible fate so
rapidly approaching her. The characters are Queen Mary (soprano), Mary
Beatoun (Beton), her maid of honor (contralto); Rizzio, the ill-fated
minstrel (tenor); and John Knox (bass). The scene is laid in a court of
the palace of Holyrood, and introduces a coterie of the court ladies and
gentlemen engaged in one of those joyous revels of which Mary was so
fond. In the midst of the pleasantry, however, the Queen moves pensively
about, overcome with sadness, as if her thoughts were far away. Her
favorite maid tries in vain to rouse her from her melancholy with a
Scotch ballad. The minstrel Rizzio is then urged to try his skill. He
takes his lute and sings an Italian canzonet which has the desired
effect. The sensuous music of the South diverts her. She expresses her
delight, and seizing his lute sings her new joy in a French romance. It
is interrupted by a Puritan psalm of warning heard outside. The revellers
seek to drown it; but it grows in power, and only ceases when the leader,
John Knox, enters with stern and forbidding countenance. The Queen is
angry at first, but bids him welcome provided his mission is a kindly
one. He answers with a warning. As he has the gift of prophecy, she
orders him to read her future. After the bridal, the murder of the
bridegroom; after the murder, battle; after the battle, prison; after the
prison, the scaffold, is the tragic fate he foresees. The enraged
courtiers call for his arrest and punishment, but the light-hearted Queen
bids him go free:--
"Let him go, and hear our laughter!
Mirth to-day, whate'er come after."
The cantata opens with a chorus for female voices in three divisions,
with a contralto solo, in the Scotch style:--
"The mavis carols in the shaw,
The leaves are green on every tree,
And June, whose car the sunbeams draw,
Is dropping gold on bank and lea;
The hind is merry in the mead,
The child that gathers gowan flower,
The Thane upon his prancing steed,
The high-born lady in her bower,--
Gay, gay, all are gay,
On this happy summer day."
After a short recitative passage in which Mary Beatoun appeals to the
revellers to lure the Queen from her loneliness, and their reply ("O
Lady, never sit alone"), the maid sings a very characteristic and
engaging Scotch ballad:--
"There once was a maiden in Melrose town
(Oh! the bright Tweed is bonny to see!)
Who looked on the best in the country down,
Because she had lovers, one, two, three.
The first was a lord with his chest of gold,
The second a ruddy shepherd so tall,
The third was a spearsman bluff and bold,--
But Pride, it goeth before a fall.
"One hour she smilèd, the next she wept
(Oh! the bright Tweed is bonny to see!)
And with frowns and blushes a chain she kept
Round the necks of her hapless lovers three.
For the lord in her lap poured wide his gold,
And the shepherd ran at her beck and call,
And the spearsman swore she was curst and cold,
But Pride, it goeth before a fall.
"At last it fell out on a bleak March day
(Oh! the bright Tweed is bonny to see!)
There sate at her window the maiden gay
And looked o'er the frost for her lovers three.
But the lord had to France sailed forth with his gold,
And the shepherd had married her playmate small,
And the spearsman in battle lay stark and cold,--
So Pride, it goeth before a fall."
As might have been expected, this mournful ditty fails to rouse the Queen
from her melancholy, whereupon Rizzio takes his lute and sings the
canzonet "Calla stagion novella," a very slow and graceful movement,
closing with a sensuous allegro, written in the genuine Italian style,
though rather Verdi-ish for the times of Rizzio. The canzonet has the
desired effect, and is followed by a delightful French romance, sung by
the Queen, in which a tender minor theme is set off against a fascinating
waltz melody, closing with a brilliant finale:--
"In my pleasant land of France
There is gladness everywhere;
In the very streams a dance,
Full of life, yet debonair,
Ah, me! ah, me!
To have left it was a sin,
Even for this kind countrie.
But we will not mourn to-day,
Bid the harp and rebec play,
Merrilie, merrilie,
Sing and smile, and jocund be;
If my father's land is dear,
Mirth and valor still are here;
Maidens faithful, champions gay,
France has melted far away
Beyond the sea."
At the close of the pretty romance, the revel begins with a stately
minuet and vocal trio ("Fal, lal, la") for the Queen, Mary Beatoun, and
Rizzio. It is interrupted by the unison psalm-tune of the Puritans, a
stern, severe old melody set to a "moving bass" accompaniment:--
"O thou who sittest on the throne
And wilt exalt thine horn on high,
While captive men in prison groan,
And women poor of hunger die,
Beware! albeit a Haman proud,
Served by thy slaves on bended knee,
The heaven can speak in thunder loud
And rend to dust both them and thee."
There is a temporary pause in the revels, but at the Queen's command they
are resumed with a quick-step introduced by the pipes and full of the
genuine Scotch spirit and bustle, the "Fal lal" trio and chorus still
accompanying it. It is interrupted afresh by a repetition of the psalm
("A Hand of Fire was on the Wall"), after which John Knox enters. With
his entrance the gay music closes and the work assumes a gloomy tragic
cast as the dialogue proceeds and the terrible incidents of the prophecy
are unfolded. It is a relief when they join in a hopeful duet ("E'en if
Earth should wholly fail me") which is very quiet and melodious. It leads
to the Queen's farewell, a quaintly-written bit, with an old-fashioned
cadenza, followed by the final chorus, which takes up a theme in the same
joyous spirit as the opening one:--
"Hence with evil omen,
Doleful bird of night,
Who in tears of women
Takest chief delight!
Think not to alarm her,
As with mystic power;
Nought shall ever harm her,
Scotland's lily flower."
LISZT.
Franz Liszt, the most eminent pianist of his time, who also obtained
world-wide celebrity as a composer and orchestral conductor, was born at
Raiding, Hungary, Oct. 22, 1811. His father was an accomplished amateur,
and played the piano and violoncello with more than ordinary skill. He
was so impressed with the promise of his son that he not only gave him
lessons in music, but also devoted himself to his artistic progress with
the utmost assiduity. In his ninth year Liszt played for the first time
in public at Oedenburg. His performances aroused such enthusiasm that
several Hungarian noblemen encouraged him to continue his studies, and
guaranteed him sufficient to defray the expenses of six years' tuition.
He went to Vienna at once and studied the piano with Czerny, besides
taking lessons in composition of Salieri and Randhartinger. It was while
in that city that his first composition, a variation on a waltz of
Diabelli, appeared. In 1823 he went to Paris, hoping to secure permission
to enter the Conservatory; but Cherubini refused it on account of his
foreign origin, though Cherubini himself was a foreigner. Nothing
daunted, young Liszt continued his studies with Reicha and Paer, and two
years afterwards brought out a two-act opera entitled "Don Sancho," which
met with a very cordial reception. The slight he received from Cherubini
aroused popular sympathy for him. His wonderful playing attracted
universal attention and gained him admission into the most brilliant
Parisian salons. He was a favorite with every one, especially with the
ladies. For two or three years he made artistic tours through France,
Switzerland, and England, accompanied by his father, and everywhere met
with the most brilliant success. In 1827 the father died, leaving him
alone in the world; but good fortune was on his side. During his stay in
Paris he had made the friendship of Victor Hugo, George Sand, Lamartine,
and other great lights in literature and music, and their influence
prepared the way for his permanent success. From 1839 to 1847 he
travelled from one city to another, arousing the most extraordinary
enthusiasm; his progress was one continued ovation. In 1849 he went to
Weimar and accepted the post of conductor at the Court Theatre. He made
that city the musical centre of Europe. It was there that his greatest
compositions were written, that the school of the music of the future was
founded, and that Wagner's operas first gained an unprejudiced hearing;
and it is from Weimar that his distinguished pupils, like Von Bülow,
Tausig, Bendel, Bronsart, Klindworth, Winterberger, Reubke, and many
others date their success. In 1859 he resigned his position and after
that time resided at Rome, Pesth, and Weimar, working for the best
interest of his beloved art, and encouraging young musicians to reach the
highest standards. Few men of this century have had such a powerful
influence upon music, or have done so much to elevate and purify it. His
most important works were the "Divina Commedia" and "Faust" symphonies,
the twelve symphonic poems, the six Hungarian rhapsodies, the "Graner
Mass," the "Hungarian Coronation Mass," and the oratorios "Christus" and
"The Legend of the Holy Elizabeth." Besides these he wrote a large number
of orchestral pieces, songs, and cantatas, and a rich and varied
collection of piano-forte solos, transcriptions, and arrangements. He
died July 31, 1886.
Prometheus.
Liszt's cantata "Prometheus," composed in 1850, is based upon the poem of
the same name, written by Johann Gottfried von Herder, the court preacher
of Weimar. The poem closely follows the well-known legend of Prometheus'
punishment for stealing fire from heaven, and his ultimate rescue by
Hercules from the vulture which preyed upon his vitals. The poet pictures
the victim in the midst of his sufferings, consoled by the knowledge that
he has been a benefactor to the human race. The spirits of the ocean mock
and menace him, but the harvesters and tillers of the soil praise him for
the bounteous gifts he has given to the earth. Ceres and Bacchus,
protectors of the soil and its products, also pay their tribute of
sympathy to him and thank him for the blessing of fire. Hercules at last
releases him from his torture by killing the vulture and breaking the
chains which bind him to his rock. The sufferer is brought before Themis,
who announces that the divine wrath has been appeased by his long
punishment, and that the gods forgive him.
In building up his cantata Liszt has introduced several prologues from
the poem without music, which serve as narrators explaining the
situations, linking and leading up to the musical numbers, which are
mainly choral. Thus the opening prologue pictures the sufferings of
Prometheus, the crime for which he is forced to endure such a terrible
penalty, and the patience, hope, and heroism of the victim. The closing
lines,--
"Now through the hush of night burst well-known voices
Upon his ear. From out the slumbering ocean,
Fanning his cheek with breath of the sea waves,
The daughters of Oceanus approach,"--
introduce the opening chorus of sea-nymphs ("Prometheus, Woe to thee"),
for female voices, arranged in double parts, and set to a restless,
agitated accompaniment, expressive of fear and despair. The second
prologue, reciting the wrath of Oceanus "on his swift-winged ocean
steed," that mortals should have dared to vex his peaceful waters, and
the reply of Prometheus that "on the broad earth each place is free to
all," introduces the choruses of Tritons and Oceanides. The first is a
mixed chorus full of brightness and spirit ("Freedom! afar from Land upon
the open Sea"). Their exultant song is followed by a fascinating melody
("Hail! O Prometheus, hail!") for female chorus, with short but
expressive solos for soprano and alto ("When to our Waters the golden
Time shall come"), the number closing with double chorus in full rich
harmony ("Holy and grand and free is the Gift of Heaven"). Thereupon
follows the third prologue:--
"Scarcely has ceased the Ocean's song of joy,
Which, breathing peace unto Prometheus' soul,
Wakens within his breast long-buried hope,
When once again the sound of lamentation
Bursts on his ear and fills the air with sighs.
Seated within a lion-drawn chariot comes
The founder of his race--Gæa herself--
With her a train of wood-nymphs, loudly weeping."
It introduces a chorus of Dryads ("Woe to thee, Prometheus") of the same
general character as the opening chorus of sea-nymphs, and containing a
very dramatic and declamatory alto solo ("Deserted stand God's sacred
Altars in the old Forest"). A dialogue follows between Gæa and
Prometheus, in which the latter bravely defends his course. As the Dryads
disappear, Prometheus soliloquizes:--
"'This is, in truth, the noblest deed
Mortal has ever dared. Beat high, my heart!
On this foundation built I up my race,--
On deathless friendship and fraternity.
Courage, Alcides! Bravely fight thy fight.
Conquer, and thou shalt free me.' From his dreams,
Roused is the Titan by a song of joy.
Before him, crowned with the rich harvest, stands
Ceres with her train of reapers."
A mixed chorus of gleaners follows ("With the Lark sweetly singing"),
which can hardly be excelled for grace and loveliness of melody. In the
next prologue Ceres consoles Prometheus, and while she is speaking a
shout of gladness rises and Bacchus appears. He smites the rock, and at
his touch a bower of grape-vines and ivy boughs interlaces over the head
of the Titan and shadows him. This serves to introduce the chorus of
Vine-dressers ("Hail to the Pleasure-giver"), a lively strain for male
voices with an effective solo quartet. As Prometheus resumes his
soliloquy, Hermes approaches, leading Pandora, and seeks to allure him
from his purpose by her enchantments, but in vain:--
"The Titan conquers, and he feels the hour--
The fated hour--draw near. Above his head
The vulture hovers, fearing to approach;
While the earth trembles, and the rocks are shaken.
Voices are heard from out the gloomy depths."
The voices are those of the spirits in the lower regions singing a very
melodramatic chorus ("Woe! woe! the sacred Sleep of the Dead has been
disturbed"). An _allegro moderato_ for orchestra follows, preluding the
approach of Hercules, who bends his giant bow and kills the vulture,
strikes the fetters off and bids him "Go hence unto thy Mother's Throne."
The scene introduces the seventh number ("All human Foresight wanders in
deepest Night"), an expressive and stately male chorus with solo quartet.
The last prologue describes the scene at the throne of Themis, the pardon
of Prometheus, and her assurance that "Henceforth Olympus smiles upon the
Earth." Pallas presents him with a veiled figure as the reward of his
heroism, "who will bring to thy race the richest blessing,--Truth." The
goddess unveils her and declares her name "Agathea. She brings to man the
purest, holiest gift,--Charity." The closing chorus of the Muses
follows:--
"Of all bright thoughts that bloom on earth,
That raise poor mortals high as heaven,
The holiest, the blessedest is Charity.
Hail, Prometheus! Hail to mankind!"
The Bells of Strasburg.
"Die Glocken des Strassburger Münsters" ("The Bells of Strasburg
Cathedral") was written in 1874, and is dedicated to the poet Longfellow,
from whose "Golden Legend" the composer took his theme for musical
treatment. The cantata, however, does not deal with the beautiful legend
itself as related by the old minnesinger, Hartmann von Aue, which
Longfellow has told so powerfully in his "Christus," but simply with the
prologue, describing the futile attempt of Lucifer and the Powers of the
Air to tear down the cross of the Strasburg Cathedral during the night
storm. It was a subject peculiarly attractive to Liszt, as it offered him
free scope for his fancies and unlimited opportunity for the display of
his unique and sometimes eccentric orchestration. The work is written for
barytone solo and mixed chorus, and is divided into two parts,--a short
prelude which is entitled "Excelsior" (_andante maestoso_), and in which
this word is several times repeated by the chorus with gradually
increasing power from piano to fortissimo; and "The Bells," which
comprises the principal part of the work.
The second part opens with a massive introduction (_allegro agitato
assai_), in which the bells, horns, and trumpets play an important part,
leading up to the furious invocation of Lucifer:--
"Hasten! Hasten!
O ye spirits!
From its station drag the ponderous
Cross of iron that to mock us
Is uplifted high in air!"
Without a break comes the response of the spirits, first and second
sopranos, altos, and tenors ("Oh! we cannot, for around it"), followed by
the Latin chant of the bells sung by tenors and basses, with a soft
tremolo accompaniment:--
"Laudo Deum verum!
Plebem voco!
Congrego clerum!"
Again with increasing power Lucifer shouts his command:--
"Lower! Lower!
Hover downward!
Seize the loud, vociferous bells, and
Clashing, clanging to the pavement,
Hurl them from their windy tower!"
As before, the chorus responds in a sweet harmonious strain ("All thy
Thunders here are harmless"), again followed by the slow and sonorous
chant of the bells:--
"Defunctos ploro!
Pestem fugo!
Festa decoro!"
Lucifer reiterates his command with constantly increasing energy:--
"Shake the casements
Break the painted
Panes that flame with gold and crimson;
Scatter them like leaves of autumn,
Swept away before the blast."
In its response this time the chorus is full of energy and impetuosity as
it shouts with great power, "O, we cannot! the Archangel Michael flames
from every window." The chant of the bells is now taken by the basses
alone:--
"Funera plango!
Fulgura frango!
Sabbato pango!"
Lucifer makes his last appeal with all the strength that voice and
orchestra can reach:--
"Aim your lightnings
At the oaken
Massive, iron-studded portals!
Sack the house of God, and scatter
Wide the ashes of the dead."
In the choral response ("The Apostles and the Martyrs wrapped in
Mantles") the sopranos and altos are in unison, making with the first and
second tenors a splendid effect. For the last time the first and second
basses sing the chant of the bells:--
"Excito lentos!
Dissipo ventos!
Paco cruentos!"
With no abatement of vigor the baffled Lucifer sounds his signal for
retreat, and the voices reply, sopranos and altos in unison:--
"Onward! onward!
With the night-wind,
Over field and farm and forest,
Lonely homestead, darksome hamlet,
Blighting all we breathe upon."
As the voices die away, choir, organ, and orchestra join with majestic
effect in the intonation of the Gregorian chant:--
"Nocte surgentes
Vigilemus omnes!
Laudemus Deum verum."
The cantata shows Liszt's talent rather than his genius. It is a
wonderful mosaic-work of fancies, rather than an original, studied
composition with definite purpose. Its motives, while not inspired, are
finely conceived, and are presented not only gracefully, but in keeping
with the spirituality of the subject.
MACFARREN.
George Alexander Macfarren, one of the most prominent of modern English
composers, was born in London, March 2, 1813. He began the study of music
under the tuition of Charles Lucas in 1827. Two years later he entered
the Royal Academy of Music, and in 1834 became one of its professors. The
latter year dates the beginning of his career as a composer, his first
work having been a symphony in F minor. During the next thirty years his
important works were as follows: overture, "Chevy Chace" (1836); "Devil's
Opera," produced at the Lyceum (1838); "Emblematical Tribute on the
Queen's Marriage" and an arrangement of Purcell's "Dido and Æneas"
(1840); editions of "Belshazzar," "Judas Maccabæus," and "Jephthah," for
the Handel Society (1843); the opera "Don Quixote" (1846); the opera
"Charles II." (1849); serenata, "The Sleeper Awakened," and the cantata
"Lenora" (1851); the cantata "May Day," for the Bradford Festival (1856);
the cantata "Christmas" (1859); the opera "Robin Hood" (1860); the masque
"Freya's Gift" and opera "Jessy Lea" (1863); and the operas "She Stoops
to Conquer," "The Soldier's Legacy," and "Helvellyn" (1864). About the
last year his sight, which had been impaired for many years, failed. His
blindness, however, did not diminish his activity. He still served as
professor in the Royal Academy, and dictated compositions,--indeed some
of his best works were composed during this time of affliction. In 1873
appeared his oratorio "St. John the Baptist," which met with an
enthusiastic reception at the Bristol Festival of that year. In 1875 he
was elected professor of music at Cambridge, to fill the vacancy
occasioned by the death of Sterndale Bennett, and in the same year was
also appointed principal of the Royal Academy of Music. In 1876 his
oratorio "The Resurrection" was performed at the Birmingham Festival, and
in 1877 the oratorio "Joseph" at Leeds, besides the cantata "The Lady of
the Lake" at Glasgow. Grove catalogues his other compositions as follows:
a cathedral service, anthems, chants, psalm-tunes, and introits for the
Holy Days and Seasons of the English Church (1866); "Songs in a
Cornfield" (1868); "Shakspeare Songs for Four Voices" (1860-64); songs
from Lane's "Arabian Nights," and Kingsley's and Tennyson's poems:
overtures to "The Merchant of Venice," "Romeo and Juliet," "Hamlet," and
"Don Carlos;" symphonies, string quartets, and a quintet; a concerto for
violin and orchestra; and sonatas for piano-forte alone, and in
combination with other instruments. As lecturer, writer, and critic, Sir
George Macfarren also holds a high place, among his important works being
"Rudiments of Harmony" (1860); six Lectures on Harmony (1867); analyses
of oratorios for the Sacred Harmonic Society (1853-57), and of orchestral
works for the Philharmonic Society (1869-71); and a "Musical History,"
being a reprint of an article on this subject contributed by him to the
Encyclopædia Britannica.
Christmas.
"Christmas," the poem by John Oxenford, was written in 1859, and was
first performed at one of the concerts of the Musical Society of London,
on the 9th of May 1860. The poem itself contains no story. It is merely a
tribute to the season; but at the same time it is not destitute of
incident, so that it possesses considerable dramatic interest.
After a short instrumental introduction the cantata opens with a double
chorus in antiphonal style, in which both the bright and the dark sides
of winter are celebrated. The second choir takes up the theme:--
"The trees lift up their branches bare
Against the sky:
Through the keen and nipping air
For spring's return they seem to cry,
As the winds with solemn tone
About them sadly moan;"
and the first choir replies:--
"Old Winter's hand is always free,
He scatters diamonds round;
They dart their light from every tree,
They glisten on the ground.
Then who shall call the branches bare,
When gems like those are sparkling there?"
The two then join and bring their friendly contest to a close:--
2nd Choir.--"Come in, and closely shut the door
Against the wintry weather;
Of frost and snow we'll think no more,
While round the fire we sit together."
1st Choir.--"Rush out from every cottage door,
'Tis brave and bracing weather;
A madder throng ne'er met before,
Than those which now have come together."
This double number, which is very effective, is followed by a soprano
recitative and romance ("Welcome, blest Season"), tender and yet joyous
in character, which celebrates the delight of friendly reunions at
Christmas tide, and the pleasure with which those long absent seek "the
old familiar door." In the next number, an old English carol ("A Blessing
on this noble House and all who in it dwell"), Christmas is fairly
introduced. It is sung first in unison by full chorus, then changes to
harmony, in which one choir retains the melody, and closes with a new
subject for orchestral treatment, the united choirs singing the carol.
Christmas would not be complete without its story; and this we have in
the next number for contralto solo and chorus, entitled "A Christmas
Tale." It is preceded by recitative, written in the old English style,
and each verse closes with a refrain, first sung as a solo, and then
repeated in full harmony by the chorus:--
"A bleak and kindless morning had broke on Althenay,
Where shunning Danish foemen the good King Alfred lay;
'In search of food our hunters departed long ago,
I fear that they have perished, embedded in the snow.'
While thus he sadly muses, an aged man he sees,
With white hair on his forehead like frost upon the trees.
An image of the winter the haggard pilgrim stands,
And breathing forth his sorrows, lifts up his withered hands:
'The Heavenly King, who reigns on high,
Bless him who hears the poor man's cry.'
"'Our hearts are moved with pity, thy sufferings we deplore,'
Said Alfred's queen, the gentle, 'but scanty is our store;
One loaf alone is left us.' 'Then give it,' said the King,
'For He who feeds the ravens, yes, He will fresh abundance bring.'
The wind was roaring loudly, the snow was falling fast,
As from the lofty turret the last, last loaf he cast.
An image of the winter, the haggard pilgrim stands,
And Alfred's welcome pittance he catches with his hands.
'The Heavenly King, who reigns on high,
Bless him who hears the poor man's cry.'
"The snow is thickly falling, the winter wind is loud,
But yonder in the distance appears a joyous crowd.
The hunters bring their booty, the peasants bring their corn,
And cheering songs of triumph along the blast are borne.
Before another morning down-stricken is the foe,
And blood of Danish warriors is red upon the snow.
Amid the conquering Saxons the aged pilgrim stands,
And like a holy prophet exclaims with lifted hands,
'The Heavenly King, who reigns on high,
Bless him who hears the poor man's cry.'"
A graceful little duet for female voices ("Little Children, all
rejoice"), picturing the delights of childhood and its exemption from
care, follows the Saxon story and leads up to the finale, which is choral
throughout, and gives all the pleasant details of Christmas cheer,--the
feast in the vaulted hall, the baron of beef, the boar with the lemon in
his jaw, the pudding, "gem of all the feast," the generous wassail, and
the mistletoe bough with its warning to maids. In delightfully
picturesque old English music the joyous scene comes to an end:--
"Varied sports the evening close,
Dancers form in busy rows:
Hoodwink'd lovers roam about,
Hope to find the right one out,
And when they fail how merry is the shout!
Round yon flickering flame of blue
Urchins sit, an anxious crew;
Dainties rich the bold invite,
While from the fire the timid shrink with fright.
Welcome all, welcome all.
'Tis merry now in the vaulted hall,
The mistletoe is overhead,
The holly flaunts its berries red,
The wassail-bowl goes gayly round;
Our mirth awakes the echoes sound,
All eyes are bright, all hearts are gay;
Thus ends our Christmas day."
MACKENZIE.
Alexander C. Mackenzie, one of the very few successful Scotch composers,
was born at Edinburgh, in 1847. His father was a musician, and
recognizing his son's talent, sent him to Germany at the age of ten. He
began his studies with Ulrich Eduard Stein at Schwartzburg-Sondershausen,
and four years later entered the ducal orchestra as violinist. He
remained there until 1862, when he went to England to study the violin
with M. Sainton. In the same year he was elected king's scholar of the
Royal Academy of Music. Three years later he returned to Edinburgh and
established himself as a piano-teacher. The main work of his life,
however, has been composition, and to this he has devoted himself with
assiduity and remarkable success. Grove catalogues among his works:
"Cervantes," an overture for orchestra; a scherzo, for ditto; overture to
a comedy; a string quintet, and many other pieces in MS.; piano-forte
quartet in B., op. 11; Trois Morceaux pour Piano, op. 15; two songs, op.
12; besides songs, part-songs, anthems, and pieces for the piano. This
catalogue can now be increased by four of the most important works he has
produced: a Scotch Rhapsody, introduced into this country by the Theodore
Thomas orchestra; the oratorio "Rose of Sharon" (1884); an opera, "The
Troubadour" (1885), and the cantata, "The Story of Sayid" (1886), which
forms the subject of the subjoined sketch.
The Story of Sayid.
"The Story of Sayid," a dramatic cantata in two parts, the libretto by
Joseph Bennett, was first produced at the Leeds Triennial Festival, Oct.
13, 1886. Its story is founded upon that of a poem in Edwin Arnold's
"Pearls of the Faith," and embodies a myth which is current among nearly
all Oriental nations. The characters are Ilmas, daughter of Sâwa
(soprano); Sayid, an Arab chief (tenor); Sâwa, a Hindoo prince
(barytone); a watchman (tenor or barytone); and a horseman (barytone).
The opening scene pictures the desolation of the land of Sâwa, caused by
the invasion of an Arab band, led by their chieftain, Sayid. In the midst
of the popular lamentations a messenger announces the defeat of the Arabs
and the capture of their leader, who is brought to the city and sentenced
to death on the spot. As Sayid prepares to meet his fate, he is
recognized by Sâwa as his rescuer at a time when he was hunting in the
hills and perishing with thirst. He offers him any boon he may ask except
that of life. Sayid entreats that he may be allowed to visit his aged
father, promising to return afterwards and suffer his fate. When Sâwa
asks who will be hostage for him, his own daughter, Ilmas, offers
herself. Moved to pity for the Arab, she persists in her offer, and her
father at last reluctantly consents. The second scene opens in Ilmas's
palace, and we discover that pity has grown into passion for Sayid during
his absence. She is interrupted in her meditations by Sâwa, who enters
with his counsellors, and announces that lightnings have flashed from the
altars of Siva, and that the gods have demanded that the hostage must
suffer in the absence of Sayid. Ilmas bids her attendants array her in
bridal robes, and in the next scene appears in an open space near the
city gate, surrounded by the court retinue and soldiers, and accompanied
by her maidens, strewing flowers in her path. Ilmas is led to the centre
of the space and kneels down, the executioner standing over her and
awaiting the signal to be given by the watchman when the sun sets. Before
that time comes the latter excitedly announces the rapid approach of an
Arab horseman. While the crowd stand eagerly waiting his arrival, Sayid
gallops through the gateway and presents himself to the Prince. He then
turns to Ilmas, who warmly receives him, and affirms that whatever fate
may overtake him she shall always cherish his memory. Sâwa relents, bids
the Arab live and be his friend, and we infer the happiness of the lovers
from the invocation of "Love the Conqueror," which brings the Damon and
Pythias story, to a close.
A very brief orchestral prelude introduces the opening chorus with
solos:--
"Alas! our land is desolate,
The children cry for bread;
Around, fierce fire and sword devour,
Our women wail their dead.
"We pray for vengeance on the foe,
To death consign them all;
Siva, arise and fight for us,
Or see thine altars fall."
As the expressive chorus comes to a close, an allegro movement leads to a
dialogue between the people and the watchman, and subsequently with the
horseman, who announces the approach of the victorious army, followed by
a second chorus of the people invoking Siva ("Vishnu, Vishnu, thou hast
heard our Cry!"). The scene is very dramatic throughout, and is
accompanied by vigorous and suggestive music. The next number is a
triumphal march, remarkable for its local color, and gradually increasing
in power and effect as the army approaches the city. It is followed by an
excited dialogue between Sâwa and Sayid, with choral responses, and leads
up to a beautiful melody for Sayid:--
"Where sets the sun adown the crimson west
My native valley lies;
There by a gentle stream that murmurs rest
My father's tents arise.
"Fearing no harm, the happy peasant tills,
The woolly flocks increase;
The shepherd's pipe is heard upon the hills,
And all around is peace."
Another dramatic scene follows, in which Sâwa consents to Sayid's return
to his father, and accepts Ilmas as his bondswoman, which leads to a very
spirited and elaborate melody for the latter ("First of his Prophet's
Warriors he"). The first part closes with the departure of Sayid and a
repetition of the choral invocation of Siva.
The second part opens in an apartment of Sâwa's palace, and discloses
Ilmas sitting with her maidens, as a thunderstorm dies away in the
distance. The latter join in a graceful chorus, which is one of the most
beautiful numbers in the cantata:--
"Sweet the balmy days of spring,
And blushing roses that they bring;
But sweeter far is love."
Ilmas answers them in a broad and exultant strain ("Ay, sweet indeed is
Love"). As the song ends, Sâwa and attendants enter, and the scene closes
with a very dramatic chorus and solos, accompanying the preparations for
death. The second scene opens with a solemn march for orchestra,
preparing the way for the climax, and leading up to a chorus and solo for
Ilmas ("What have these Sounds to do with bridal Robes?"). As she kneels,
awaiting her fate, an orchestral interlude, set to the rhythm of the
gallop, indicates the rapid approach of Sayid. A short and agitated
dialogue follows between the watchman and the people. Sayid declares his
presence, and a graceful duet with Ilmas ensues ("Noble Maiden, low
before thee Sayid bows"), leading to a powerful choral finale ("Never
before was known a Deed like this"), closing with a stirring outburst for
all the voices:--
"O Love, thy car triumphal
Rolls round the subject world
More glorious than the chariot
Of the sun.
"We hail thee, Love victorious!
Ride on with strength divine,
And quench all mortal passion
In thine own."
Jubilee Ode.[29]
This work, upon which Dr. Mackenzie has been engaged for some time past,
is now complete, and on its way to several distant parts of the Empire,
where arrangements are making to perform it in celebration of the
Jubilee. Primarily, as our readers know, the Ode was intended for the
Crystal Palace only, but it will be given also in Canada, Australia,
Trinidad, Cape Colony, etc.; thus standing out from all its fellows as in
some sort an Imperial work.
Without anticipating the criticism which will follow upon performance, we
may here give some idea of the scope and character of the Ode. Mr. Joseph
Bennett, the writer of the words, has kept strictly in view the
exigencies of a musical setting. He has obviously prepared, not a short
poem for readers, but one for musical hearers. Hence a variety of rhythm
and structure which otherwise would certainly not have been ventured
upon. From the same cause arises also the manner in which the subject is
laid out, with a view to contrast of musical effect. We may indicate the
nature of this arrangement. In the first vocal number, a chorus, the news
of the Jubilee is proclaimed, and its diffusion throughout the Empire
called for. The second number, a tenor solo, conveys to the Queen the
affectionate greetings of her home-lands, declaring that, to keep the
feast with unanimity, all weapons of party warfare are laid aside. In the
third number the Colonies and Dependencies pay their homage, the idea
worked out being that of a procession passing before the throne. First
comes the Dominion, followed by Australia, the smaller colonies and
islands, and, lastly, by India. Each of these divisions has a section of
the chorus to itself. The fifth number, a soprano solo, dwells upon the
personal virtues of the Sovereign; while the sixth, and last, opening
with a choral prayer for the Empire, continues with lines leading to the
National Anthem, for which a new second verse has been written. How far
the writer has been guided by consideration for musical opportunities
need not, after this outline sketch, be indicated. The spirit in which
Mr. Bennett has approached his theme best appears, perhaps, in the
opening verses:--
"For fifty years our Queen!
Victoria! hail!
Take up the cry, glad voices,
And pass the strain
O'er hill and plain,
Peaceful hamlet, roaring city, flowing river,
Till all the land rejoices.
Wild clanging bells and thund'rous cannon
With your loudest shock the air, and make it quiver
From Dee to Tamar, Thames to Shannon.
"For fifty years our Queen!
Victoria! hail!
Take up the cry, old ocean,
And hoarsely shout
The words about.
British ships and world-wide British lands will cheer them,
Rouse an Empire's full devotion.
O blowing wind, come hither, bearing
Answering voices, loud acclaiming. Hark! we hear them.
They our loyal pride are sharing."
In setting the words to music, Dr. Mackenzie has necessarily to consider
the place of performance and the number of performers. This, however, was
an amiable and fortunate obligation, since the result has been to give us
a work built upon broad lines, and marked by plainness of structure to an
extent unusual with the composer. We think that the music will be found
to have a true festive ring, and a majestic solidity befitting the
occasion. In the solos, with their more subdued expression, Dr. Mackenzie
has kept contrast in view, without sacrifice of simplicity; but it is in
the choruses that he best shows himself a master of bold and striking
effects. Every bar goes straight to the point, while avoiding the
commonplaces that naturally suggest themselves in the writing of festive
music. The procession chorus is, in this respect, most noteworthy of all,
and may be found no mean rival of that in the "Rose of Sharon."
[29] As the score of Mr. Mackenzie's Ode has not yet reached this
country, the author has taken the liberty of transferring the above
analysis of it to his work from the London "Musical Times" for May,
1887. Although its local character may preclude its performance here,
it is not improbable that the composition of a composer so eminent
will attract attention among American musicians.
MASSENET.
Jules Émile Frédéric Massenet, a composer as yet but little known in this
country, was born at Montaud, France, May 12, 1842. His musical education
was obtained in the Paris Conservatory, in which between the years 1859
and 1863 he carried off two first prizes and one second. After leaving
the Conservatory, he went to Italy for a time and pursued his studies in
composition. On his return to Paris one of his operas, "La Grand Tante,"
was produced at the Opéra Comique (1867) through the influence of
Ambroise Thomas, and this performance called attention to the works of
the rising young musician. In 1872 he brought out "Don Cæsar de Bazan,"
an opéra comique in three acts, and in the following year incidental
music to the tragedy "Les Erinnyes," after Æschylus. Among his works
written since that time are "Le Roi de Lahore" (1877); "Herodiade"
(1882); "Manon" (1885); "Le Cid" (1885); the cantata "Paix et Liberté"
(1867); "Marie Magdaleine" (1873); "Eve," a mystery (1875); "La Vierge,"
sacred legend; and "Narcisse," antique idylle (1878). Among his
orchestral works the best known are "Suites d'orchestre;" "Scenes
Hongroises;" "Scenes Pittoresques;" "Scenes Dramatiques;" overture
"Phèdre;" and "Pompeia," fantasia-symphony. He has also written numerous
songs and piano-forte pieces. His operas thus far have been his most
successful works, though several of his large concert pieces have been
very favorably received. He now occupies a position in the Paris
Conservatory, and is regarded as one of the most promising members of the
modern French school.
Mary Magdalen.
"Mary Magdalen" was written in 1873, and was first performed at the
Odéon, Paris, in that year, with Mmes. Viardot and Vidal and MM. Bosquin
and Petit in the solo parts. It is styled by its composer a sacred drama,
and is divided into three acts, the first entitled "The Magdalen at the
Fountain;" the second, "Jesus before the Magdalen;" the third,
"Golgotha," "The Magdalen at the Cross," and "The Tomb of Jesus and the
Resurrection;" the first two scenes in the last act being included in one
tableau, and the third in another. The characters represented are Mary
Magdalen, Martha, Jesus, and Judas, the chorus parts being assigned to
the Disciples, Pharisees, Scribes, publicans, soldiers, servants, holy
women, and people.
After a short introduction, pastoral in character, the work begins with a
scene representing Mary at the fountain of Magdala near sunset, among
women, publicans, Scribes, and Pharisees, strolling along the banks of
the little stream that flows from it. The women sing a short chorus full
of Oriental color anticipating the approach of the beautiful Nazarene. A
group of young Magdalens pass along singing blithely of love and gay
cavaliers ("C'est l'heure où conduisant de longues Caravanes"), and the
song of the women blends with it. Next follows a chorus of the Scribes,
discussing this Stranger, and pronouncing Him an impostor, and again the
young Magdalens take up their strain. The second number is a pathetic
aria by Mary ("O mes Soeurs"), which is full of tender beauty. The women
shrink back from her and join in a taunting chorus ("La belle Pécheresse
oublie"). Next, Judas appears upon the scene, and servilely saluting Mary
counsels her to abandon sadness and return to love, in an aria which is a
good illustration of irony in music. It is followed by a powerful and
mocking chorus of women, Pharisees, and Scribes ("Vainement tu pleures"),
in which she is taunted with her shame, despite her sad appeals for pity.
The next scene is an aria and trio. Jesus appears in their midst, and in
a calm impressive aria ("Vous qui flétrissez les Erreurs des autres")
rebukes them. Mary prostrates herself at His feet and implores pardon,
and the scene closes with a trio for Jesus, Mary, and Judas, leading up
to a strong concerted finale closing the act, in which Jesus bids the
Magdalen rise and return to her home, whither He is about to repair.
The second act opens in the Magdalen's house, which is richly decorated
with flowers and redolent with perfume. It begins with a sensuous female
chorus ("Le Seuil est paré de Fleurs rares") followed by Martha's
admonition to the servants that He who is more powerful than earthly
kings cares not for vain shows. The chorus resumes its song, and at its
close Judas appears and a long dialogue follows in which Martha rebukes
his hypocrisy. As he departs, Mary and Martha in a very graceful duet
discourse of the Saviour's coming, which is interrupted by His presence
and invocation of blessing. After a duet between Jesus and Mary, in which
He commends her to the Good Shepherd, the act closes with a powerful and
very dramatic finale containing Jesus' rebuke to Judas and His
declaration of the coming betrayal, after which the Disciples join in a
simple but very effective prayer ("Notre Père, loué soit Nom radieux").
The third act is divided into two tableaux. In the first we have the
scene of the crucifixion, the agitated choruses of the groups about the
Cross, the mocking strains of the Pharisees bidding Him descend if He is
the Master, the sorrowing song of Mary ("O Bien-aimé sous la sombre
Couronne"), and the final tragedy. The second is devoted to the
resurrection and apparition, which are treated very dramatically, closing
with an exultant Easter hymn ("Christ est vivant, ressuscité").
In the first two acts the music is full of rich Oriental color and is
gracefully melodious and well adapted to the situation; but in the last
act the awful solemnity of the tragedy is somewhat lost in the theatrical
manner of its treatment. Indeed it was hardly necessary that the composer
should have disclaimed the title of oratorio which some have assigned to
the work. His division of it into acts and tableaux was sufficient to
indicate that he had the stage in mind when he was writing; or at least
that his scheme was operatic in style.
MENDELSSOHN.
Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy, the son of a Berlin banker, was born at
Hamburg, Feb. 3, 1809, and, unlike almost all other composers, was reared
in the lap of luxury. He enjoyed every advantage which wealth could
procure, with the result that he became highly educated in the other arts
as well as in music. His teachers in music were Zelter and Ludwig Berger,
and he made such progress that in his ninth year he appeared in public as
a pianist in Berlin and afterwards in Paris. The first of his
compositions to attract general notice were the overture to Shakspeare's
"Midsummer Night's Dream" and the little opera "The Marriage of Camacho,"
which were brought out in Berlin in 1827. After several concert-tours, in
which he met with great success, he resided for some time in Düsseldorf.
In 1835 he went to Leipsic as director of the famous Gewandhaus
concerts,--which are still given in that city. Two years later he married
Cécile Jeanrenaud, the beautiful daughter of a minister of the Reformed
Church in Frankfort, and shortly afterwards went to Berlin as general
director of church music. In 1843 he returned to his former post in
Leipsic, and also took a position in the newly established Conservatory,
where he spent the remainder of his days in company with his family, to
whom he was closely attached. He has left a large and rich collection of
musical works, which are favorites the world over. His three great
oratorios are the "Hymn of Praise," catalogued as a symphony-cantata,
"St. Paul," and "Elijah." Besides these oratorios, the exquisite music to
the "Midsummer Night's Dream," which is familiar the world over, and his
stately dramatic music to "Antigone," he has left five symphonies, of
which the "Scotch," the "Italian," and the "Reformation" are best known;
four beautiful overtures, "Ruy Blas," "Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage,"
"Hebrides," and "Melusina;" the very dramatic cantata, "The Walpurgis
Night;" a long list of songs for one or more voices; the incidental music
to Racine's "Athalia;" a very large collection of sacred music, such as
psalms, hymns, anthems, and cantatas; several trios and other specimens
of chamber music; and the lovely "Songs without Words," which are to be
found upon almost every piano, the beauty and freshness of which time has
not impaired. Mendelssohn never wrote a grand opera, owing to his
fastidiousness as to a libretto; though he finally obtained one from
Geibel on the subject of the "Loreley" which suited him. He had begun to
write it, and had finished the finale to the first act, when death
interrupted his work, Nov. 4, 1847. In addition to the subjoined
compositions selected for description, the following may be mentioned as
possessing the cantata characteristics: op. 31, the 115th Psalm, for
solo, chorus, and orchestra; op. 46, the 95th Psalm, for chorus and
orchestra; op. 51, the 114th Psalm, for double chorus and orchestra; op.
78, three Psalms for solo and chorus; op. 91, the 98th Psalm, for double
chorus and orchestra; and op. 96, Hymn ("Lass, O Herr mich") for alto
solo, chorus, and orchestra.
The Walpurgis Night.
It was during his Italian travels in 1831 that Mendelssohn composed the
music to Goethe's poem "The First Walpurgis Night." His letters throw
much and interesting light upon the composition and his ideas while
writing it. In a letter written at Rome, Feb. 22, 1831, he says:--
"Listen and wonder! Since I left Vienna I have partly composed Goethe's
'First Walpurgis Night,' but have not yet had courage to write it down.
The composition has now assumed a form and become a grand cantata, with
full orchestra, and may turn out well. At the opening there are songs
of spring, etc., and plenty others of the same kind. Afterwards, when
the watchmen with their 'Gabeln, und Zacken, und Eulen,' make a great
noise, the fairy frolics begin, and you know that I have a particular
foible for them; the sacrificial Druids then appear with their
trombones in C major, when the watchmen come in again in alarm; and
here I mean to introduce a light, mysterious, tripping chorus, and
lastly to conclude with a grand sacrificial hymn. Do you not think that
this might develop into a new style of cantata? I have an instrumental
introduction as a matter of course, and the effect of the whole is
spirited."
On the 27th of April ensuing he refers to it again:--
"I must however return to my witches, so you must forgive my not
writing any more to-day. This whole letter seems to hover in
uncertainty, or rather I do so in my 'Walpurgis Night,' whether I am to
introduce the big drum or not. 'Zacken, Gabeln, und wilde
Klapperstöcke' seem to force me to the big drum, but moderation
dissuades me. I certainly am the only person who ever composed for the
scene on the Brocken without employing a piccolo-flute, but I can't
help regretting the big drum; and before I can receive Fanny's[30]
advice, the 'Walpurgis Night' will be finished and packed up."
On his way back to Germany he writes from Milan, July 13, 1831, to the
artist and operatic director, Eduard Devrient:--
"I have been writing a large composition that perhaps will one day make
some effect,--'The First Walpurgis Night' of Goethe. I began it simply
because it pleased and excited me; I did not think of any performance.
But now that it is finished, I see that it is well suited for a large
concert piece, and in my first subscription concert in Berlin you shall
sing the bearded Druid,--the chorus sung by ----, kindly assisted by
----. I have written the part of the Druid into your throstle (by
permission), and you will have to sing it out again."
It was several years before the "Walpurgis Night" was publicly performed,
and meanwhile it underwent several changes. On the 28th of November,
1842, he writes to his mother:--
"I am really anxious to make the 'Walpurgis Night' into a
symphony-cantata, for which it was originally intended, but did not
become so from want of courage on my part."
On the 11th of December of the same year he writes her:--
"My 'Walpurgis Night' is to appear once more in the second part, in a
somewhat different garb indeed from the former one, which was somewhat
too richly endowed with trombones, and rather poor in the vocal parts;
but to effect this I have been obliged to re-write the whole score from
A to Z, and to add two new arias, not to mention the rest of the
clipping and cutting. If I don't like it now, I solemnly vow to give it
up for the rest of my life."
The cantata was first publicly performed in Leipsic, Feb. 2, 1843, at a
concert, in which it occupied the second part of the programme. It had to
stand a severe test of comparison, for the first part was very brilliant,
including a Haydn symphony, a Mozart aria, Beethoven's "Choral Fantasie,"
the piano part played by Madame Schumann, the overture from "Euryanthe,"
and the chorus from Weber's "Lyre and Sword;" but it made a success, and
was received with great enthusiasm.
The subject of the cantata is a very simple one. The witches of the
Northern mythology were supposed to hold their revels on the summit of
the Brocken on the eve of the 1st of May (Walpurgis Night), and the
details of their wild and infernal "Sabbath" are familiar to every reader
of "Faust." In his separate poem Goethe seeks to go back to the origin of
the first Walpurgis Night. May-day eve was consecrated to Saint
Walpurgis, who converted the Saxons from Druidism to Christianity, and on
that night the evil spirits were said to be abroad. Goethe conceived the
idea that the Druids on that night betook themselves to the mountains to
celebrate their rites without interference from the Christians,
accomplishing their purpose by disguising their sentinels as demons, who,
when the Christians approached, ran through the woods with torches,
clashed their arms, uttered hideous noises, and thus frightened them
away, leaving the Druids free to finish their sacrifices.
The cantata begins with an overture in two movements, an _allegro con
fuoco_ and an _allegro vivace_, which describes in vivid tone-colors the
passing of the season from winter to spring. The first number is a tenor
solo and chorus of Druids, which are full of spring feeling, rising to
religious fervor in the close:--
"Now May again
Breaks winter's chain,
The buds and bloom are springing;
No snow is seen,
The vales are green,
The woodland choirs are singing!
Yon mountain height
Is wintry white;
Upon it we will gather,--
Begin the ancient holy rite;
Praise our Almighty Father."
The next number is an alto solo, the warning of an aged woman of the
people, which is very dramatic in its style:--
"Know ye not a deed so daring
Dooms us all to die despairing?
Know ye not it is forbidden
By the edicts of our foemen?"
The warning is followed by a stately exhortation from the Druid priest
("The man who flies our sacrifice"), leading up to a short chorus of a
very stirring character in which the Druids resolve to go on with their
rites. It is followed by a pianissimo chorus of the guards whispering to
each other to "secure the passes round the glen." One of them suggests
the demon scheme for frightening the enemy, which leads to the chorus:--
"Come with torches brightly flashing;
Rush along with billets clashing;
Through the night-gloom lead and follow,
In and out each rocky hollow.
Owls and ravens,
Howl with us and scare the cravens."
In this chorus the composer has given the freest rein to his fancy, and
presents the weird scene in a grotesque chaos of musical effects, both
vocal and instrumental, which may fairly be called infernal, and yet
preserves form and rhythm throughout. It is followed by an exalted and
impressive hymn for bass solo and chorus, which is a relief after the
diablerie of the preceding number:--
"Restrained by might
We now by night
In secret here adore Thee.
Still it is day
Whene'er we pray,
And humbly bow before Thee.
Thou canst assuage
Our foemen's rage
And shield us from their terrors.
The flame aspires!
The smoke retires!
Thus clear our faith from errors!
Our customs quelled,
Our rights withheld,
Thy light shall shine forever."
Following this impressive hymn comes the terrified warning of the
Christian guard (tenor) and the response of his equally terrified
comrades:--
"Help, my comrades! see a legion
Yonder comes from Satan's region!
See yon group of witches gliding
To and fro in flames advancing;
Some on wolves and dragons riding,
See, ah, see them hither prancing!
What a clattering troop of evil!
Let us, let us quickly fly them!
Imp and devil
Lead the revel;
See them caper,
Wrapt in clouds of lurid vapor."
As the Christians disappear, scared by the demon _ruse_, the Druids once
more, led by their priest, resume their rites, closing with another
choral hymn of praise similar in style to the first.
[30] His sister.
Antigone.
Mendelssohn wrote incidental music to four great dramas,--the "Antigone"
of Sophocles (1841); the "Oedipus at Colonos" of Sophocles (1843); the
"Athalia" of Racine (1843); and the "Midsummer Night's Dream" of
Shakspeare (1843), the overture to which was written by him in 1826. The
latter is mainly instrumental. Of the other three, the music to
"Antigone" and "Oedipus" is most frequently performed, and for that
reason has been selected for description.
In June, 1841, the King of Saxony invited Mendelssohn to become his
Capellmeister. Frederick William IV. of Prussia had made him a similar
offer about the same time. He accepted the latter and removed to Berlin,
and the first duty imposed upon him by the King was the composition of
music to the "Antigone" of Sophocles. With the assistance of the poet
Tieck, who helped arrange the text, the work was accomplished in the
short space of eleven days, and was given on the Potsdam Court stage
October 28, to a private audience. It was first performed in public at
Leipsic, March 5, 1842. It is written for male chorus and orchestra, and
includes seven numbers; namely, 1. Introduction and maestoso ("Strahl des
Helios schönstes Licht"); 2. Andante con moto ("Vieles Gewaltige lebt");
3. Moderato ("Ihr Seligen deren"); 4. Adagio ("O Eros, Allsieger im
Kampf"); 5. Recitative and chorus ("Noch toset des Sturmes Gewalt"); 6.
Allegro maestoso ("Vielnamiger! Wonn' und Stolz"); 7. Andante alla marcia
("Hier Kommt er ja selbst").
The following extracts will give a comprehensive view of this powerful
and felicitous music. Lampadius, writing of the first public performance,
says:--
"On the 5th of March the 'Antigone' of Sophocles, translated by Donner
and set to music by Mendelssohn, was brought out at the Leipsic theatre
before a full audience. The composer directed, and was received with
great applause. The music indeed was not antique, if to be so it must
be played on the {syrinx}, the {salpinx}, and the {phorminx}, or if the
composer must confine himself to that Greek type of melody and harmony
of which all we know is that it was extremely simple, and, according to
our ideas, meagre; but it was antique completely, in its being filled
with the fire of the tragedy and making its spirit intelligible to us
moderns, strengthening the meaning of the words, and giving a running
musical commentary on them.... With us at Leipsic, as indeed
everywhere, the Eros Chorus, with its solemn awe in the presence of the
divine omnipotence of love, and the Bacchus Chorus, which, swinging the
thyrsus, celebrates the praise of the Theban maiden's son in joyous
strains, as well as the melodramatic passages, where Antigone enters,
wailing, the chamber where her dead lover lay, and whither Creon has
borne in his son's corpse, had an imposing effect. The impression of
the whole piece, taken by itself, was very powerful. With amazement our
modern world realized the sublimity of the ancient tragic muse, and
recognized the 'great, gigantic fate which exalts man while grinding
him to powder.'"
Devrient, the director of the opera at Carlsruhe, in his "Recollections
of Mendelssohn," has left a delightful sketch of the composition of the
work. He says:--
"Felix did not enter upon his task without the fullest consideration.
The first suggestion was to set the chorus in unison throughout, and to
recitative interspersed with solos; and as nearly as possible to intone
or recite the words, with accompaniment of such instruments only as may
be supposed in character with the time of Sophocles,--flutes, tubas,
and harps, in the absence of lyres. I opposed to this plan that the
voice parts would be intolerably monotonous, without the compensatory
clearness of the text being attained....
"Nevertheless Felix made the attempt to carry out this view, but after
a few days he confessed to me that it was impracticable; that I was
right in maintaining the impossibility of making the words clear in
choral singing, except in a few places that are obviously suited for
recitative;[31] that the chanting of a chorus would be vexatiously
monotonous, tedious, and unmusical; and that accompaniments for so few
instruments would give so little scope for variety of expression that
it would make the whole appear as a mere puerile imitation of the
ancient music, about which, after all, we knew nothing. He concluded
therefore that the choruses must be sung, as the parts must be recited,
not to assimilate themselves with the usages of Attic tragedy (which
might easily lead us into absurdity) but as we would now express
ourselves in speech and song.... With this I fully concurred; and Felix
set, so vigorously to work, that in a few weeks he played me sketches,
and by the end of September nearly the whole chain of choruses was
completed. Besides my delight at the beauty of these choruses, they
confirmed me in the certainty that Felix's genius was eminently
dramatic. They not only gave the key to every scene, the expression to
each separate verse, from the narrow complacency of the Theban citizens
to their heartful and exalted sympathy, but also a dramatic accent
soaring far beyond the words of the poet. I allude particularly to the
dithyrambus that occurs between Creon's attempt to rescue Antigone and
the relation of its terrible failure. This song of praise really
consists entirely of glorifying appeals to Bacchus, and its dramatic
application lies only in the verse:--
'She was its pride,
Who, clasping the Thunderer, died;
And now, seeking its lost repose,
We pray thee to come and heal its woes.
Oh, hither bend;
From thy Parnassian heights descend.'
"To raise this chorus to be the terrible turning-point of the action;
to bring here to its culmination the tension excited by the awful
impending doom; to give this continually gathering power to the
invocation, 'Hear us, Bacchus!' till it becomes a cry of agony; to give
this exhaustive musical expression to the situation, marks the composer
to have a specially dramatic gift. And this is betokened no less in the
melodramatic portions. The idea of adding rhythmical accompaniments to
spoken words may have been suggested by a few well-set passages in the
music to 'Faust' by Prince Radziwill. It is to be regretted that the
public is scarcely able to appreciate how exquisitely Mendelssohn has
done this, since the representatives of Antigone and of Creon are
seldom sufficiently musical to enter completely into the composer's
intention; besides that in two passages of the accompanied dialogue of
Antigone the words are not correctly set under the music."
Of the private performance before the King and Court, Oct. 28, 1841, the
same writer says:--
"We had two more rehearsals on the following day, the evening one in
the presence of the King, and the performance itself took place on the
28th, before the Court and all the invited celebrities of art and
science. It produced a very great sensation. The deep impression that
the revival of an ancient tragedy could produce in our theatrical life
promised to become an influence; it has purified our musical
atmosphere, and it is certain that to Mendelssohn must be ascribed
great and important merit in the cause.
"Although the learned, of whom each expected the ancient tragedy to be
put upon the stage according to his peculiar conception of it (which
would of course be totally different in every case) might find the
music too modern, too operatic, in fact, not sufficiently philological,
it is undeniable that Mendelssohn's music has made the tragedy of
Sophocles accessible to the sympathies of the general public, without
in any wise violating the spirit and aroma of the poem, but rather
lending it new life and intelligibility."
[31] The passages, "But see, the son of Menoetius comes," etc., and "See,
Hæmon appears," etc., are examples.
Oedipus at Colonos.
The story of "Oedipus Tyrannus" is told in this work in connection with
Professor Paine's composition. The "Oedipus at Colonos," to which
Mendelssohn set music, is the continuation of Sophocles' tragedy,
describing the banishment of the blind hero, the loving care of his
daughters, his arrival at Attica, and his death in the gardens of the
Eumenides at Colonos, absolved by the fate which had so cruelly pursued
him.
The music to "Oedipus" was written at the command of the King of Prussia
in 1843, and was first produced at Potsdam, Nov. 1, 1845. It contains a
short introduction and nine choral numbers. The first and second choruses
describe the entrance of Oedipus and Antigone into the grove of the
Eumenides, their discovery by the people, the story of his sorrows which
he relates to them, his meeting with his daughter Ismene, and the arrival
of Theseus the King. The third number is the gem of the work, and is
often given on the concert-stage. The free translation of the text for
this beautiful double chorus is as follows:--
"_Strophe_.--Thou hast come, O stranger, to the seats of this land,
renowned for the steed; to seats the fairest on earth, the chalky
Colonos; where the vocal nightingale, chief abounding, trills her
plaintive note in the green dells, tenanting the dark-hued ivy and the
leafy grove of the god, untrodden, teeming with fruits, impervious to
the sun, and unshaken by the winds of every storm; where Bacchus, the
reveller, ever roams attending his divine nurses.
"_Antistrophe_.--And ever day by day the narcissus, with its beauteous
clusters, bursts into bloom by heaven's dew, the ancient coronet of the
mighty goddesses, and the saffron with golden ray; nor do the sleepless
founts of Cephisus that wander through the fields fail, but ever each
day it rushes o'er the plains with its limpid wave, fertilizing the
bosom of the earth; nor have the choirs of the muses loathed this
clime; nor Venus, too, of the golden reign.
"_Strophe_.--And there is a tree, such as I hear not to have ever
sprung in the land of Asia, nor in the mighty Doric island of Pelops, a
tree unplanted by hand, of spontaneous growth, terror of the hostile
spear, which flourishes chiefly in this region, the leaf of the pale
gray olive that nourishes our young. This shall neither any one in
youth nor in old age, marking for destruction, and having laid it waste
with his hand, bring to nought; for the eye that never closes of Morian
Jove regards it, and the blue-eyed Minerva.
"_Antistrophe_.--And I have other praise for this mother-city to tell,
the noblest gift of the mighty divinity, the highest vaunt, that she is
the great of chivalry, renowned for the steed and famous on the main;
for thou, O sovereign Neptune, son of Saturn, hast raised her to this
glory, having first, in these fields, founded the bit to tame the
horse; and the well-rowed boat, dashed forth by the hand, bounds
marvellously through the brine, tracking on the hundred-footed
daughters of Nereus."
The first strophe is begun by one choir in unison after a short but
graceful introduction which is repeated at the end of the strophe in
another form, and then the second choir begins the antistrophe, set to
the same beautiful melody. At its close the music changes in character
and grows vigorous and excited as the first choir sings the second
strophe, with which shortly the second choir joins in splendid eight-part
harmony. The latter takes up the strain again in the second antistrophe,
singing the praise of "the mother-city," and the number closes with the
united invocation to Neptune,--an effect which has hardly been excelled
in choral music. The fourth chorus, which is very dramatic in its effect,
tells of the assault of Creon upon Oedipus, and the fifth, his protection
by Theseus, who comes to the rescue. In this number the double choirs
unite with magnificent effect in the appeal to the gods ("Dread Power,
that fillest Heaven's high Throne") to defend Theseus in the conflict.
The sixth number ("When the Health and Strength are gone") is a pathetic
description of the blind hero's pitiful condition, and prepares the way
for the powerful choruses in which his impending fate is foreshadowed by
the thunderbolts of Jove which rend the heavens. The eighth and ninth
choruses are full of the mournful spirit of the tragedy itself, and tell
in notes as eloquent as Sophocles' lines of the mysterious disappearance
of the Theban hero, ingulfed in the opening earth, and the sorrowful
lamentations of the daughters for the father whom they had served and
loved so devotedly.
As the Hart Pants.
The music to the Forty-second Psalm, familiarly known by the caption
which forms the title of this sketch, was first performed at the tenth
subscription Gewandhaus concert in Leipsic in 1838, Clara Novello taking
the soprano part. Though not constructed upon the large scale of the
"Hymn of Praise," or even of the "Walpurgis Night," it is a work which is
thoroughly artistic, and just as complete and symmetrical in its way. It
contains seven numbers. After a slow and well-sustained introduction, the
work begins with a chorus ("As the Hart pants after the Water Brooks, so
panteth my soul for Thee, O God") which is a veritable prayer in its
tenderness and expression of passionate longing. After the chorus a
delicate and refined soprano solo ("For my Soul thirsteth for God")
continues the sentiment, first given out in an oboe solo, and then
uttered by the voice in a beautifully melodious adagio. The third number
is a soprano recitative ("My Tears have been my Meat") leading to a
chorus in march time by the sopranos and altos ("For I had gone with the
Multitude; I went with them to the House of God"). Then follows a full
chorus beginning with male voices in unison ("Why, my Soul, art thou cast
down?"), answered by the female voices ("Trust thou in God"). Again the
soprano voice is heard in pathetic recitative ("O my God! my Soul is cast
down within me; all Thy Waves and thy Billows are gone over me"). A
beautiful quartet of male voices with string accompaniment replies: "The
Lord will command His Loving-kindness in the Day-time; and in the Night
His Song shall be with me, and my Prayer unto the God of my Life." The
response is full of hope and consolation; but through it all runs the
mournful strain of the soprano (forming a quintet at the end), coming to
a close only when the full chorus joins in a repetition of the fourth
number ("Trust thou in God"), this time elaborated with still greater
effect, and closing with a stately ascription of praise to the God of
Israel.
The Gutenberg Fest-Cantata.
The occasion for which the short festival cantata known as the
"Gutenberg" was written, was the fourth centennial celebration of the art
of printing, which was observed at Leipsic in 1840 by the unveiling of
Gutenberg's statue in the public square, and other ceremonies. The
direction of the musical part of the festivity was intrusted to
Mendelssohn. The text for the hymn to be sung at the unveiling, which
occurred on the morning of June 24, immediately after the public service
in Church, was furnished by Adolphus Prölsz, a teacher in the Gymnasium
at Freiberg. Lampadius, in his Life of Mendelssohn, says of the
performance:--
"Mendelssohn arranged it with trombone accompaniment. When the opening
words, 'Fatherland! within thy Confines broke the dawning Light,'--so
the opening ran, if my memory is correct,--were heard in the Music Hall
at the first rehearsal, the heartiest applause arose among the
performers as well as the invited guests. Nothing so simple, powerful,
joyous, and unconstrained had been heard for a long time.... Many will
remember how, on the very day of the public performance, the slight
form of Mendelssohn was seen moving nervously around to find just the
right place for the trombonists, and how nearly he came to a fall from
the platform. During that performance the singers were divided into two
choirs, which sat at some distance from each other; one of them was
conducted by David, and the other by Mendelssohn."
The cantata opens with a stately chorale ("With solemn Hymn of Praise")
set to the old tune "Honor to God alone," followed by the song in memory
of Gutenberg ("Fatherland! within thy Confines"), which has been
separately arranged and printed as a solo. The third number is a quick,
spirited movement for tenors ("And God said, 'Let there be Light'")
followed by another effective chorale ("Now, thank God all"), which
brings the work to a close. On the afternoon of the same day
Mendelssohn's much more important work, "The Hymn of Praise," was given.
A sketch of this has already appeared in the "Standard Oratorios."
Lauda Sion.
The "Lauda Sion," or sequence sung at High Mass on the Feast of Corpus
Christi, was chosen by Mendelssohn as the subject of one of his most
beautiful cantatas, for four solo voices, chorus, and orchestra. The
majestic rhythm of Saint Thomas Aquinas's verses loses none of its
stateliness in this musical setting. The work was composed for the
celebration of this Festival by the Church of St. Martin at Liège, and
was first performed there June 11, 1846. Chorley, the English critic who
accompanied Mendelssohn on that occasion, has left us in his "Modern
German Music" an interesting sketch of its first production. He says:--
"The early summer of 1846 was a great year for the Rhine Land and its
adjacent district; since there the Lower Rhenish Festival at
Aix-la-Chapelle was conducted by Mendelssohn, and starred by Mlle.
Jenny Lind; and within a fortnight afterwards was celebrated at Liège
the 'Fête Dieu,' for which his 'Lauda Sion' was written....
"It was a pity that those who had commissioned such a composer to write
such a work had so entirely miscalculated their means of presenting it
even respectably. The picturesque old Church of St. Martin is one of
those buildings which swallow up all sound, owing to the curve of the
vaults and the bulk of the piers; the orchestra was little more
powerful, when heard from below, than the distant scraping of a
Christmas serenade far down the street; the chorus was toneless, and
out of tune; and only one solo singer, the soprano, was even tolerable.
On arriving at Liège with the purpose of conducting his work,
Mendelssohn gave up the matter in despair. 'No! it is not good, it
cannot go well, it will make a bad noise,' was his greeting to us....
"We drove with him that afternoon up to St. Martin's Church, to hear,
as he merrily styled it, 'the execution of his music.' The sight of the
steep, narrow, winding street, decked out with fir-trees and banners
and the escutcheons of the different towns of Belgium, pleased him, for
he was as keen a lover of a show as a child, and had a true artist's
quick sense of the picturesque....
"Not envy's self could have helped being in pain for its composer, so
slack and tuneless and ineffective was the execution of this clear and
beautiful work, by a scrannel orchestra, and singers who could hardly
be heard, and who evidenced their nationality by resolutely holding
back every movement. But in the last verse, _alla breve_--
'Ecce panis angelorum'--
there came a surprise of a different quality. It was scenically
accompanied by an unforeseen exposition of the Host, in a gorgeous gilt
tabernacle, that slowly turned above the altar, so as to reveal the
consecrated elements to the congregation. Incense was swung from
censers, and the evening sun, breaking in with a sudden brightness,
gave a fairy-like effect to the curling fumes as they rose; while a
very musical bell, that timed the movement twice in a bar, added its
charm to the rite. I felt a quick grasp on my wrist, as Mendelssohn
whispered to me, eagerly, 'Listen! how pretty that is! it makes amends
for all their bad playing and singing,--and I shall hear the rest
better some other time.' That other time I believe never came for the
composer of the 'Lauda Sion,'--since this was only the year before his
death."
The work is composed in seven numbers. After a short introduction the
voices give out the theme, "Lauda Sion," followed by a chorus, "Laudis
Thema," full of devotional spirit. The soprano then enunciates in the
"Sit Laus plena" phrases repeated by the chorus, followed by a
beautifully accompanied quartet, "In hac Mensa." The fifth number is a
solemn chorale in unison, leading to a soprano solo in the arioso style,
"Caro cibus," which is exquisitely beautiful. The work concludes with a
very dramatic solo and chorus, "Sumit unus," set to the words "Bone
pastor," and the closing verses of the hymn itself. Short as the cantata
is, it is one of the most felicitous of all Mendelssohn's settings of the
ritual.
MOZART.
Johann Chrysostomus Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, one of the most remarkable
of musical geniuses, and the only one of his contemporaries whose operas
still hold the stage with unimpaired freshness, was born at Salsburg,
Jan. 27, 1756. He was the son of Leopold Mozart, the Salzburgian
Vice-Capellmeister, who gave him and his sister Nannerl their earliest
instruction in music, and with such good results that the children
travelled and gave concerts with great success. Before he was seven years
of age he had composed several pieces for piano and violin, his earliest
having been written at the age of five. At twelve he became court
capellmeister in Salzburg. After his musical travels he went to Vienna,
and there began his period of classic activity, which commenced with
"Idomeneus," reached its culmination in "Don Giovanni," and closed with
the "Requiem,"--the "swan-song" of his wonderful career. In his brief
life Mozart composed more than fifty great works, besides hundreds of
minor ones in every possible form of musical writing. His greatest
compositions may be classed in the following order: "Idomeneus" (1780);
"Entführung aus dem Serail" (1781); "Figaro's Hochzeit" ("The Marriage of
Figaro"), (1785); "Don Giovanni" (1787); "Cosi fan Tutti," "Zauberflöte"
("The Magic Flute"), and "Titus" (1790); and the "Requiem" (1791, the
year of his death). The catalogue of Mozart's works is an immense one,
for his period of productivity was unusually long. From the age of five
to his death there was not a year that was not crowded with his music.
Besides his numerous operas, of which only the more famous are given
above, he wrote a large number of symphonies (of which the "Jupiter" is
now the best known), sonatas, concertos, for all kinds of instruments,
even to musical-glasses, trios, quartets, quintets, and sextets for all
possible combinations of instruments, marches, fugues, masses, hymns,
arias of extraordinary brilliancy, liturgies, cantatas, songs and
ballads, and indeed every form of music that is now known. His style was
studied by Beethoven, and so closely imitated that the music of his first
period, if published without autograph, would readily be attributed to
Mozart. His style was so spontaneous and characteristic that it has been
well said there is but one Mozart. The distinguishing trait of his music
is its rich melodic beauty and its almost ravishing sweetness. His melody
pours along in a bright unbroken stream that sometimes even overflows its
banks, so abundant is it. It is peculiarly the music of youth and
spring-time, exquisite in form, graceful in technique, and delightful in
expression. It was the source where all his immediate successors went for
their inspiration, though it lacked the maturity, majesty, and emotional
depths which were reached by such a Titan as Beethoven. Old as it is, and
antiquated in form, especially as compared with the work of the new
schools, its perennial freshness, grace, and beauty have made it
immortal.
King Thamos.
The historical drama, "Thamos, King of Egypt," was written by Freiherr
von Gebler. Otto Jahn, in his Life of Mozart, gives the following sketch
of its story:--
"Menes, King of Egypt, has been deposed by a usurper, Rameses, and, as
it is thought, assassinated; but he is living, under the name of
Sethos, as high priest of the Temple of the Sun, the secret being known
only to the priest Hammon and the general Phanes. After the death of
Rameses, his son Thamos is heir to the throne. The day arrives when
Thamos attains majority, is to be invested with the diadem, and to
select a bride. The friends of Menes seek in vain to persuade him to
dispute the throne. He will not oppose the noble youth, whom he loves
and esteems. But Pheron, a prince and confidant of Thamos, has, in
conjunction with Mirza, the chief of the Virgins of the Sun, organized
a conspiracy against Thamos, and won over a portion of the army.
Tharsis, daughter of Menes, who is believed by all, even her father, to
be dead, has been brought up by Mirza under the name of Sais. It is
arranged that she shall be proclaimed rightful heir to the throne, and,
as she will then have the right to choose her consort, Mirza will
secure her beforehand for Pheron. When she discovers that Sais loves
Thamos, and he her, she induces Sais to believe that Thamos prefers her
playmate Myris, and Sais is generous enough to sacrifice her love and
her hopes of the throne to her friend. Equally nobly Thamos rejects all
suspicions against Pheron, and awards him supreme command. As the time
for action draws near, Pheron discloses to Sethos, whom he takes for a
devoted follower of Menes, and consequently for an enemy to Thamos, the
secret of Sais' existence and his own plans. Sethos prepares secretly
to save Thamos. Sais also, after being pledged to silence by an oath,
is initiated into the secret by Mirza and Pheron, and directed to
choose Pheron. She declines to give a decided answer, and Pheron
announces to Mirza his determination to seize the throne by force in
case of extremity. Sais, who believes herself not loved by Thamos, and
will not therefore choose him as consort, but will not deprive him of
the throne, takes the solemn and irrevocable oath as Virgin of the Sun.
Thamos enters, and they discover, to their sorrow, their mutual love.
Sethos, entering, enlightens Thamos as to the treachery of Pheron,
without disclosing the parentage of Sais. Pheron, disturbed by the
report that Menes is still living, comes to take council of Sethos, and
adheres to his treacherous design. In solemn assembly Thamos is about
to be declared king, when Mirza reveals the fact that Sais is the lost
Tharsis, and heiress to the throne. Thamos is the first to offer her
his homage. When she is constrained to choose between Thamos and Pheron
she declares herself bound by her oath, and announces Thamos as the
possessor of the throne. Then Pheron calls his followers to arms, but
Sethos steps forward and discloses himself as Menes; whereupon all fall
at his feet in joyful emotion. Pheron is disarmed and led off; Mirza
stabs herself; Menes, as father and ruler, releases Sais from her oath,
unites her with Thamos, and places the pair on the throne. A message
arrives that Pheron has been struck with lightning by Divine judgment,
and the piece ends."
To this drama Mozart composed the incidental music in 1779 and 1780 at
Salzburg, where it was produced under Böhm and Shickaneder's direction.
The play did not keep the stage long. Mozart refers to this circumstance
in a letter to his father, written Feb. 15, 1783:--
"I regret much not being able to make use of the music for 'Thamos,'
for not having pleased here, it is included among the tabooed pieces,
no longer to be performed. For the sake of the music alone it might
possibly be given again, but it is not likely. It is really a pity."
The music consists of five entr'actes and three choruses constructed in a
large and majestic style and specially adapted to ceremonial performance.
The first is a responsive chorus of maidens and priests ("Before thy
Light, Sun-god, thy Foe the Darkness takes Wing") sung in the temple of
the sun at Heliopolis. The second ("Godhead, throned in Power eternal")
is also sung in the temple before Thamos' coronation, at the beginning of
the fifth act, and contains short snatches of solos for a priest and
maiden, leading to a close in full harmony for the voices, and an
instrumental finale of soft music during which the priest offers
sacrifice upon the altar. The third opens with a majestic bass solo for
the high priest ("Ye Children of Dust, come, with Trembling, adore ye")
and closes with a stately strain for all the voices ("We Children of Dust
in our Reverence tremble").
Although the play was shelved, the music was not lost. Mozart
subsequently set the choruses to Latin and German words, and they were
adapted as hymns and motets for church use. They are now familiar to
musicians as "Splendente te Deus," "Deus tibi Laus et Honor," and "Ne
Pulvis et Cinis." Nohl says of them:--
"A certain solemnity pervades them such as few of his sacred works
possess, and an elevation of feeling only surpassed in the 'Flauto
Magico.' But the composer has relied on theatrical effect; and thus, in
spite of his graver intentions, we find more worldly pomp than
religious depth in these choruses, which Mozart worked out with all
love and care, even in their most minute details, and which manifest
the thoughtful mood that absorbed his soul."
Davidde Penitente.
The cantata "Davidde Penitente" was the outcome of a work of love. Before
his marriage with Constance Weber, Mozart vowed that when he brought her
to Salzburg as his wife he would write a mass for the occasion and have
it performed there. In a letter written to his father, Jan. 4, 1783, he
says: "As a proof of the fulfilment of this vow, the score of a
'half-mass' is now lying by, in hopes of some day being finished."
Holmes, in his admirable Life of Mozart, says:--
"To exercise his pen in the grand contrapuntal style of church music
was at all times agreeable to him; and he was now free from the local
restrictions under which he had written his numerous masses at
Salzburg, where neither the style, the length of the pieces, nor their
instrumentation was left to his own discretion; hence, making due
allowance for the effect of some few years in developing the composer's
genius, the great superiority of 'Davidde Penitente,' by which title
this mass was in the sequel better known over all the earlier masses,
as well for breadth of style as in true ecclesiastical solemnity."
The "half-mass" which Mozart brought to Salzburg in fulfilment of his vow
comprised only the Kyrie, Gloria, Sanctus, and Benedictus. The remaining
numbers were supplied from another mass, and in this form the work was
produced at St. Peter's Church, Aug. 25, 1783, his wife taking the solo
part. The original work is described as exceedingly majestic and
beautiful, particularly the "Gratias" for five, and the "Qui Tollis" for
eight-voiced chorus. Jahn says of them that the same wonderful and
mysterious impression of the supernatural conveyed by the most beautiful
numbers in his Requiem characterizes these choruses.
The "half-mass" was destined to undergo still more radical changes. In
the spring of 1785 the committee of the society for the relief of the
widows and orphans of musicians at Vienna wished to celebrate their
annual festival with some new work, and commissioned Mozart to write a
cantata. As the time was very short, he took the Kyrie and Gloria of the
mass, set Italian words to them, and added four new numbers, in which
form it was produced under the title of "Davidde Penitente" at the
Burg-theatre, March 13, the solo singers being Fraulein Cavalieri,[32]
Fraulein Distler, and Herr Adamberger.[33] The cantata comprises ten
numbers. The first number is a chorus ("Alzai le flebile voci") taken
from the "Kyrie" of the mass; the second, an allegro chorus ("Cantiam le
lodi"), from the "Gloria;" the third, a soprano solo ("Lungi le cure"),
from the "Laudamus;" the fourth, an adagio chorus ("Sii pur sempre") from
the "Gratias;" the fifth, a very melodious soprano duet ("Sorgi o
Signore"), from the "Domine Deus;" the sixth, a beautiful tenor aria ("A
te fra tanti affanni"), written for Adamberger; the seventh, a double
chorus ("Se vuoi, puniscimi"); the eighth, a bravura aria for soprano
("Fra le oscure Ombre"), written for Mademoiselle Cavalieri; the ninth, a
terzetto ("Tutti le mie speranze"); and the tenth, a final chorus and
fugue which, by general consent of the critics of the time, was called
the "queen of vocal fugues." Notwithstanding the introduction of
specially-written arias, and the brilliant music assigned to the soprano,
the cantata is regarded as one of the purest examples of Mozart's church
style.
[32] Catharina Cavalieri, born in 1761, died June 30, 1801. She was a
singer in Italian and German opera in Vienna from 1775 to 1783; but
as she never left that city her reputation was purely local. Mozart
wrote for her the part of Constanza in his opera "Die Entführing."
[33] Valentin Adamberger was born at Munich, July 6, 1743, and was famed
for his splendid tenor voice. Mozart composed for him the part of
Belmont in the "Entführing," and highly esteemed him as a friend and
adviser. He died Aug. 24, 1804.
The Masonic Cantatas.
Mozart became a member of the Masonic fraternity shortly after his
arrival in Vienna in 1784, and devoted himself to its objects with all
the ardor of his nature. In the following year his father visited him and
was also persuaded to join, though not without considerable entreaty on
the son's part. He was a devoted member of the Church and entertained a
deep reverence for its forms. The Church then, as now, was hostile to all
secret orders, and was particularly inimical to the Masons because they
had attacked certain alleged abuses in the cloisters. His prejudices were
overcome, however, and he soon became as ardent a devotee of Masonry as
his son. It formed one of the principal subjects of their correspondence;
but unfortunately all these letters were destroyed by the cautious father
a short time before his death, which occurred May 28, 1787. In only one
letter do we find reference to the subject, and that in a guarded manner.
On the 3d of April of that year Mozart heard of his father's illness, and
the next day he writes to him:--
"I have this moment heard tidings which distress me exceedingly, and
the more so that your last letter led me to suppose you were so well;
but I now hear that you are really ill. I need not say how anxiously I
shall long for a better report of you to comfort me, and I do hope to
receive it, though I am always prone to anticipate the worst. As death
(when closely considered) is the true goal of our life, I have made
myself so thoroughly acquainted with this good and faithful friend of
man, that not only has its image no longer anything alarming to me, but
rather something most peaceful and consolatory; and I thank my Heavenly
Father that He has vouchsafed to grant me the happiness, _and has given
me the opportunity (you understand me), to learn that it is the key to
our true felicity_."
Mozart's membership in the order began at an opportune time for him.
Though at the height of his fame he was at the very lowest depth of his
finances; and both in 1787 and 1789, though he was Imperial Chamber
Musician and his opera "Don Giovanni" was having a successful run, he was
obliged to apply repeatedly to his friend and brother Mason, the merchant
Puchberg of Vienna, for loans, and also to Herr Hofdämmel, who was about
to become a Mason upon Mozart's solicitation. During the short remainder
of his life he was devotedly attached to the order, and he was buried in
the dress of the brotherhood; but, strange to say, not one of the members
accompanied their illustrious associate to the grave.
Four of Mozart's works were directly inspired by Masonry. In 1785 he
wrote a simple but beautiful lodge song for voice, with piano
accompaniment ("Die ihr einern neuen Grade"). This was followed by the
wonderfully beautiful "Freemason's Funeral Music" for orchestra, written
upon the occasion of the death of two brothers in the fraternity, of
which Jahn says:--
"Mozart has written nothing more beautiful, from its technical
treatment and finished effect of sound, its earnest feeling and
psychological truth, than this short adagio. It is the utterance of a
resolute, manly character, which, in the face of death, pays the
rightful tribute to sorrow without being either crushed or stunned by
it."
In the same year he composed a small cantata, "Die Maurerfreude," for
tenor and chorus, in honor of Herr Born, the master of the lodge to which
he belonged in Vienna, which is full of true feeling combined with
graceful melody.
The second cantata, catalogued in Köchel "Eine Kleine Freimaurer Cantate,
'Laut verkünde unsre Freude,'" better known by its title "Lob der
Freundschaft" ("Praise of Friendship") is notable as the last work
written by Mozart. Its date is Nov. 15, 1791, only three weeks before his
death. At this time he was engaged in finishing up his "Requiem," which
had such a depressing effect upon him that he was ordered by his
physician to lay it aside. The rest he thus secured had such a good
effect that by the middle of November he was able to attend a Masonic
meeting and produce the little cantata which he had just written for
them. On reaching home after the performance he said to his wife, "O
Stänerl, how madly they have gone on about my cantata! If I did not know
that I had written better things, I should have thought this my best
composition." It is constructed upon a larger scale than the cantata of
1785, and is very pleasing and popular, but lacks the spirit and
earnestness of the former. It has six numbers: 1. Chorus, "Laut verkünde
unsre Freude;" 2. Recitative, "Zum ersten Male;" 3. Tenor aria, "Dieser
Gottheit Allmacht;" 4. Recitative, "Wohlan, ihr Brüder;" 5. Duet, "Lange
sallen diese Mauern"; 6. Chorus, "Lasst uns mit geschlungen Händen." It
was Mozart's swan-song. Two days after its performance he was stricken
down with his last illness.
PAINE.
John K. Paine, one of the very few really eminent American composers, was
born at Portland, Me., Jan. 9, 1839. He studied the piano, organ, and
composition with Kotzschmar in that city, and made his first public
appearance as an organist, June 25, 1857. During the following year he
went to Germany, and studied the organ, composition, and instrumentation
with Haupt and other masters in Berlin. He returned to this country in
1861, and gave several concerts, in which he played many of the organ
works of the best writers for the first time in the United States.
Shortly after his return he was appointed instructor of music in Harvard
University, and in 1876 was honored with the elevation to a professorship
and given a regular chair. He is best known as a composer, and several of
his works have been paid the rare compliment of performance in Germany,
among them his Mass in D and all his symphonies. The former was given at
the Berlin Singakademie in 1867, under his own direction. Among his
principal compositions are the oratorio "St. Peter," the music to
"Oedipus," the cantatas, "Nativity," "The Realm of Fancy," and "Phoebus,
Arise;" the Mass in D; the Centennial Hymn, set to Whittier's poem, and
sung at the opening of the Philadelphia Centennial Exhibition; the
overture to "As You Like It;" "The Tempest," in the style of a symphonic
poem; the symphony in C minor, and "Spring" symphony; besides numerous
sonatas, fantasias, preludes, songs, and arrangements for organ and
piano. His larger orchestral works have been made familiar to American
audiences by Mr. Theodore Thomas's band, and have invariably met with
success. His style of composition is large, broad, and dignified, based
upon the best classic models, and evinces a high degree of musical
scholarship.
Oedipus Tyrannus.
The first public performance of the "Oedipus Tyrannus" of Sophocles in
this country was given at the Sanders Theatre (Harvard College),
Cambridge, Mass., May 17, 1881, for which occasion Mr. Paine composed the
music incidental to the world-famous tragedy. The performance was a
memorable one in many ways. The tragedy was given in the original
language. It was the first event of the kind in America. The audience was
a representative one in culture, education, and social brilliancy. The
programme was also unique, being printed in Greek, and translated into
English was as follows:--
TO ALL THE SPECTATORS GREETING.
[The college seal.]
_Six verses from the Eumenides of Æschylus:_
"Hail people of the city
That sit near to Zeus,
Friends of the friendly goddess,
Wise in your generation,
Ye whom under the wings of Pallas
The father guards."
THE OEDIPUS TYRANNUS OF SOPHOCLES
WILL BE REPRESENTED IN THE THEATRE OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY
on the 17th of May ({Thargêliôn}), 1881,
and again on the 19th, 20th, and 21st.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
Oedipus, King of Thebes George Riddle.
Priest of Zeus William Hobbs Manning.
Creon, Jocasta's brother Henry Norman.
Teiresias, the blind seer Curtis Guild.
Jocasta, Queen of Thebes Leonard Eckstein Opdycke.
Messenger, from Corinth Arthur Wellington Roberts.
Servant of Laius Gardiner Martin Lane.
Messenger from the Palace Owen Wister.
ATTENDANTS.
Attendants on Oedipus J. R. Coolidge, E. J. Wendell.
Attendants on Jocasta J. J. Greenough, W. L. Putnam.
Attendants on Creon G. P. Keith, J. Lee.
Boy guide of Teiresias C. H. Goodwin.
Antigone E. Manning.
Ismene J. K. Whittemore.
Suppliants.-- G. P. Keith, G. D. Markham (priests), W. H. Herrick, J.
Lee, E. Lovering, H. Putnam, L. A. Shaw, C. M. Walsh
(chosen youths), C. H. Goodwin, E. Manning, R. Manning,
W. Merrill, E. R. Thayer, J. K. Whittemore (boys).
CHORUS OF THEBAN OLD MEN.
Coryphæus Louis Butler McCagg.
Assistant to the chorus in the third stasmon, with solo
George Laurie Osgood.
MEMBERS OF THE CHORUS.
N. M. Brigham,
Frederick R. Burton,
Henry G. Chapin,
Sumner Coolidge,
Edward P. Mason,
Marshall H. Cushing,
Wendell P. Davis,
Morris Earle,
Percival J. Eaton,
Gustavus Tuckerman,
Charles S. Hamlin,
Jared S. How,
Howard Lilienthal,
Charles F. Mason.
Leader of the chorus and composer of the music John Knowles Paine.
Prompter George L. Kittredge.
The scene is laid in front of the palace in Boetian Thebes. The chorus
is composed of Theban old men. Oedipus speaks first. The managers
request all the spectators to remain sitting until the postlude is
ended. Immediately after the last chorus has been sung there will be a
pause for those who wish to go out. After this the doors will be
closed.
After the play, horse-cars ({hamaxai hipposidêrodromikai}) will be
ready for those who want to go to the city.
Wilsons, printers. ({Oyilsônes typois egapsan}.)
The story of the Theban hero, his ignorance of his own parentage, his
dismay at the revelation of the oracle that he would kill his father and
marry his mother, his quarrel with the former, resulting in the very
tragedy he was seeking to avoid, his solution of the riddle of the
sphinx, the reward of the Queen's hand which Creon had promised, leading
to the unfortunate marriage with his mother, Jocasta, thus completing the
revelation of the oracle, does not need description in detail. The
marriage was followed by a pestilence that wasted Thebes, and at this
point the plot of the drama begins. It concerns itself with the efforts
of Oedipus to unravel the mystery of the death of his father, Laius,
which lead to the discovery that he himself was the murderer, and that he
had been guilty of incest with his own mother. Jocasta hangs herself, and
Oedipus, rushing frantically into the palace, beholds her, and
overwhelmed with horror at the sight and the fulfilment of the oracle,
seizes her brooch-pin and blinds himself. In the Oedipus at Colonos the
sequel is told. The hero dies in the gardens of the Eumenides, happy in
the love of his daughters and the pardon which fate grants him.
The music to the tragedy is thoroughly classical in spirit, and has all
the nobility, breadth, dignity, and grace characteristic of the Greek
idea. The principal lyric movements of the chorus, the choral odes, of
which there are six, comprise the scheme of the composer. The
melodramatic practice of the orchestra accompanying spoken dialogue only
appears to a limited extent in the third ode; and the chorus, as
narrator, is accompanied by music only in the seven last lines of the
play, which form the postlude. The orchestral introduction, which is
treated in a very skilful and scholarly manner, epitomizes the spirit of
the work. The odes are divided as usual into strophes and antistrophes,
assigned alternately to a male chorus of fifteen and full chorus. The
first ("Oracle sweet-tongued of Zeus"), which has the genuine antique
dignity and elevation, is a description of the sufferings of the people
from the pestilence which has wasted Thebes since the unnatural marriage
of Oedipus and Jocasta, and a fervent prayer to the gods for aid. The
second ("Thou Delphic Rock, who can he be?") concludes the scene where
the blind prophet Teiresias arrives upon the summons of Creon and accuses
Oedipus of the crime, accompanying the accusation with dark hints of
further guilt. In this ode, which is specially noticeable for its rich
and graceful treatment, the chorus expresses its disbelief of the
charges. In the third scene, Creon enters to protest against the
accusations of Oedipus, but a quarrel ensues between them, which results
in the menace of death to the former. Jocasta appears, and upon her
intercession Creon is allowed to depart. In the ode, the chorus joins in
this appeal to Oedipus,--a strong, vigorous number, the effect of which
is heightened by the intervening spoken parts of Creon, Oedipus, and
Jocasta, with musical accompaniment. The fourth ode ("O may my Life be
spent in Virtue") is a vigorous denunciation of the impiety of Jocasta in
speaking scornfully of the oracles. The fifth ode ("If I the Prophet's
Gift possess") is full of idyllic grace and sweetness, realizing in a
remarkable degree the old Grecian idea of sensuous beauty. It is a
speculation upon the divine origin of Oedipus, after the messenger
relates the story of the King's exposure in his childhood upon Mount
Cithæron, and contains a charming tenor solo. The last ode ("O Race of
mortal Men") bewails the vicissitudes of fortune, and is full of the
tragic significance of impending fate. The work comes to a close with the
postlude:--
"Ye who dwell in Thebes our city, fix on Oedipus your eyes,
Who resolved the dark enigma, noblest liver and most wise.
Glorious like a sun he mounted, envied of the popular throng,
Now he sinks in seas of anguish, quenched the stormy waves among.
Therefore I await the final hour, to ancient wisdom known,
Ere I call one mortal happy. Never shall that thought be shown,
Till he end his earthly being, scathless of a sigh or groan."
Six public performances of the "Oedipus" were given in 1881, and every
season since that time selections from the music have been performed in
New York, Boston, and other cities. As the most important and scholarly
work an American composer has yet produced, it cannot be heard too often.
The Nativity.
The text of "The Nativity," for chorus, solo voices, and orchestra, is
taken from the hymn in Milton's ode "On the Morning of Christ's
Nativity," and is composed in three parts. The first part includes the
first, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh; the second, a
combination of the eighth and ninth; and the third, the thirteenth,
fourteenth, and fifteenth verses. After a short instrumental
introduction, which works up to an effective climax, the cantata begins
with a chorus ("It was the Winter wild"), introduced by the soprano,
developing to full harmony at the words, "Nature in Awe to Him," and
closing pianissimo. After a short soprano solo ("But, He her Fears to
cease") the chorus resumes ("With Turtle Wing the amorous Clouds
dividing"). A succession of choral passages follows, admirably suggestive
of the sentiment of the poem,--a vigorous, stirring allegro, "No War or
Battle's Sound was heard the World around;" "And Kings sat still with
awful Eye," broadly and forcibly written; and a tender, graceful number,
"But peaceful was the Night." They are followed by another soprano solo
("And though the shady Gloom"), full of brightness and animation, which
leads directly to a majestic chorus ("He saw a greater Sun appear"),
which closes the first part.
The second part, a quartet and chorus, is pastoral in character, and
reflects the idyllic quiet and beauty of the text. The quartet, "The
Shepherds on the Lawn," is introduced by short tenor, bass, and alto
solos, and also contains a very melodious and graceful solo for soprano
("When such Music sweet their Hearts and Ears did greet"), after which
the full quartet leads up to a vigorous chorus ("The Air such Pleasure
loath to lose"), closing the part.
The third part is choral, and forms an effective climax to the work. It
opens with the powerful chorus, "Ring out, ye crystal Spheres,"
emphasized by the organ bass with stately effect, and moves on
majestically to the close,--
"And Heaven as at some festival
Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall."
The Realm of Fancy.
"The Realm of Fancy" is a short cantata, the music set to Keats's
familiar poem:--
"Ever let the fancy roam,
Pleasure never is at home:
At a touch sweet pleasure melteth,
Like to bubbles when rain pelteth."
With the exception of a dozen lines, the dainty poem is used entire, and
is set to music with a keen appreciation of its graceful beauty. A short
allegretto fancifully trips along to the opening chorus ("Ever let the
Fancy roam"), which is admirable for its shifting play of musical color.
A soprano solo ("She will bring in spite of Frost"), followed by a very
expressive barytone solo ("Thou shalt at a Glance behold the Daisy and
the Marigold"), leads up to a charming little chorus ("Shaded Hyacinth,
always Sapphire Queen"). A short instrumental passage, in the time of the
opening allegretto, introduces the final chorus ("O Sweet Fancy, let her
loose"), charmingly worked up, and closing in canon form. The cantata is
very short; but rarely have poem and music been more happily wedded than
in this delightful tribute to fancy.
Phoebus, Arise.
Mr. Paine's ripe scholarship is shown to admirable advantage in his
selection of the poem "Phoebus, Arise" from among the lyrics of the old
Scottish poet, William Drummond, of Hawthornden, and the characteristic
old-style setting he has given to it. Like "The Realm of Fancy," it is
very short; but like that cantata, also, it illustrates the versatility
of his talent and the happy manner in which he preserves the
characteristics of the poem in his music. Drummond, who has been called
"the Scottish Petrarch," and whose poems were so celebrated that even Ben
Jonson could find it in his way to visit him, was noted for the grace and
lightness of his verse, and the pensive cast with which it was tinged. It
has little of the modern poetic style, and the composer has clothed his
poem in a musical garb to correspond.
The cantata is written for tenor solo, male chorus, and orchestra, and
opens with a brilliant chorus ("Phoebus, arise, and paint the sable Skies
with azure, white, and red"), closing with a crescendo in the old style.
An expressive and somewhat pensive tenor solo follows:--
"This is that happy morn
And day, long-wishèd day,
Of all my life so dark
(If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn
And fates my hope betray),
Which purely white deserves
An everlasting diamond should it mark.
This is the morn should bring unto the grove
My love, to hear, and recompense my love."
A short choral passage with tenor solo ("Fair King, who all preserves")
leads to a full rich chorus ("Now, Flora, deck thyself in fairest
Guise"). In the next number the chorus returns to the opening theme
("Phoebus, Arise"), and develops it with constantly increasing power to
the close.
PARKER.
Horatio W. Parker, a young American composer of more than ordinary
promise, was born at Auburndale, Mass., Sept. 15, 1863. After his
fifteenth year he began the study of music, taking his earlier lessons of
the three Boston teachers, Stephen A. Emery, John Orth, and G. W.
Chadwick. In 1882 he went to Munich and studied the organ and composition
with Josef Rheinberger, for three years. In the spring of 1885 he wrote
the cantata "King Trojan," and it was produced for the first time in that
city with success during the summer of the same year. Since then it has
been given in this country by Mr. Jules Jordan, of Providence, R. I.,
Feb. 8, 1887. His string quartet in F major was played at a concert of
the Buffalo Philharmonic Society in January, 1886; and a short scherzo
was performed by the Van der Stücken orchestra in New York City in the
same year. Besides these compositions, he has written three overtures,
quite a number of songs and pieces for the piano-forte, and a symphony in
C, and ballade for chorus and orchestra, both of which were played in
Munich last year. In 1886 he accepted the professorship of music at the
Cathedral School of St. Paul, Garden City, L. I., and in February, 1887,
went to New York, where he now resides, to take charge of a boy choir in
St. Andrew's Church, Harlem.
King Trojan.
"King Trojan," composed for chorus, solos, and orchestra, was written in
March, 1885, and first performed in July of the same year, at Munich. Its
story is the poem of the same name, by Franz Alfred Muth, the English
version being a free and excellent translation by the composer's mother,
Mrs. Isabella G. Parker, of Auburndale, Mass.
After a short and graceful introduction, the cantata opens with a solo
describing the quiet beauty of a summer night, daintily accompanied by
wind instruments and harp. A second voice replies ("O Summer Night"), and
then the two join in a very vigorous duet ("O fill thou Even with Light
of Heaven"). A short solo for third voice leads up to a chorus which
gives us a picture of King Trojan's castle gleaming in the moonlight. It
is followed by a very effective solo for the King ("The Horse is
neighing, O Page of mine"), in which he bids his Page saddle his steed
for a night ride to visit his distant love. The chorus intervenes with a
reflective number ("What thinks she now?"), which is very dramatic in
style, describing the mutual longing of the lovers to be together.
The second scene opens with a short solo by the Page ("Up, up, O King,
the Horses wait"), followed by the chorus as narrator, describing the
ride of the King and his companion through the greenwood, with which is
interwoven Trojan's solo ("How sweet and cool is yet the Night"). In the
next number, a vivacious allegro, the story of the ride is continued by
the chorus, with a characteristic accompaniment, and again Trojan sings a
charming tribute to the summer night, which is followed by responsive
solos of the King and the Page, in the allegro and penseroso style,--the
one singing of the raptures of night, the other of the gladness of day
and sunlight. A passionate bit of recitative ("Now swift, ye Horses") by
Trojan reveals the secret of the King's haste. He is King of the night,
and the morning ray will be fatal to him. A short choral number ("And
forward fly they") brings the first part to a close with the arrival of
the riders at the Queen's castle.
The second part opens with a beautiful solo, quartet, and chorus
("Good-Night, the Lindens whisper"), which describes the meeting of the
lovers, while
"Beneath the lofty castle gate
Slumbers the page who so long must wait.
Then crows the cock, the hour is late."