[Music]
In the solemn phrase of the Commendatore, in 'Don Giovanni,' we have an
interesting example of the happy result with which Mozart has carried
out ideas emanating from Gluck. In the opera 'Alceste,' by Gluck, the
Oracle sings in one tone, while the orchestral accompaniment, including
three trombones, changes the harmony in each successive bar, as
follows:--
[Music:
Le roi doit mou-rir au-jour-
-d'hui, si quelqu'autre au trÈ-pas ne se liv-re pour lui.]
That Mozart was much impressed with the effect of Gluck's idea may be
gathered from the circumstance of his having adopted it in 'Don
Giovanni,' and likewise, to some extent, in 'Idomeneo.' The Commendatore
in 'Don Giovanni' sings, accompanied by trombones:--
[Music:
Di ri-der fi-n-rai pria dell' au-ro-ra
Ri-bal-do! au-da-ce! las-cia a'mor-ti la pa-ce!]
There can hardly be a greater difference in the styles of two composers
than exists in the style of Gluck and that of J. S. Bach. The masterly
command of Bach over the combination of different parts according to the
rules of counterpoint is just the faculty in which Gluck is deficient.
It is on this account especially interesting to observe how Gluck has
employed an idea which he apparently borrowed from Bach. The student may
ascertain it by carefully comparing the air, 'Je l'implore, et je
tremble,' in 'Iphigenia in Tauris,' with J. S. Bach's beautiful gigue in
B flat major, commencing:--
[Music]
Clementi, a pianoforte composer, who has certainly but little in common
with Gluck, has for his B minor Sonata dedicated to Cherubini--perhaps
his best work--a theme which may be recognised as that of the dance of
the Scythians in 'Iphigenia in Tauris.'
Again, Beethoven's style, especially in his later works, is as different
from Haydn's as possible; nevertheless we occasionally meet with a
phrase in Beethoven's later works which appears to have been suggested
by Haydn. For instance, Haydn, in his Symphony in B flat major (No. 2 of
Salomon's set) has a playful repetition of a figure of semi-quavers
leading to the re-introduction of the theme, thus:--
[Music]
In Beethoven's famous E minor Quartet, Op. 59, a similar figure leads to
the theme, thus:--
[Music]
A more exact comparison of the two passages than the present short
notations permit will probably convince the student of the great
superiority of Beethoven's conception. He was one of those rare masters
who convert into gold whatever they touch.
But it is not the object here to give a list of the similarities and
adaptations which are traceable in the works of different musical
composers. Such a list would fill a volume, even if composers of
secondary rank, who are often great borrowers, were ignored. For the
present essay a few examples must suffice, especially as others will
probably occur to the reflecting reader.
Some insight into the studies of our great composers may also be
obtained by comparing together such of their operas or other elaborate
vocal compositions with instrumental accompaniment as are founded on the
same subject. Note, for instance, the love-story of Armida, taken by the
compilers of the various librettos from the episode of Rinaldo and
Armida in Tasso's 'Gerusalemme Liberata.' The story had evidently a
great attraction for the musical composers of the eighteenth century.
There have been above thirty operas written on it, several of which it
might now be difficult to procure, nor would an examination of them
perhaps repay the trouble. However, the operas on the subject composed
by Lulli, Gluck, Graun, Handel, Traetta, Jomelli, Naumann, Haydn, Sarti,
Cimarosa, Rossini, Sacchini, etc., would suffice for the purpose. Thus
also, a comparison of several compositions depicting a storm--most of
our masters have written such a piece--elicits valuable hints for the
musical student. Compare, for instance, with each other the storms in
Gluck's 'Iphigenia in Tauris,' Haydn's 'Seasons,' Beethoven's 'Sinfonia
Pastorale,' Cherubini's 'Medea.'
Even arrangements may illustrate the studies. Take, for instance, the
arrangements of Vivaldi's violin concertos by J. S. Bach. It is, however,
but seldom that eminent composers have occupied themselves with
arranging the works of others. Instructive examples of this kind are
therefore rare.
It is recorded of some composers that they were in the habit of founding
their instrumental works on certain poetical ideas. Haydn is said to
have done this almost invariably. Schindler, in his biographical notices
of Beethoven, states that the two pianoforte Sonatas, Op. 14, of
Beethoven, were explained to him by the composer as representing a
dialogue between two lovers. When Schindler asked the meaning of the
motivo of the C minor Symphony,
[Music]
Beethoven exclaimed, "Thus Fate knocks at the gate!" And being requested
by Schindler to supply him with the key to the Sonatas in D minor, Op.
31, and in F minor, Op. 57, Beethoven's answer was: "Read Shakespeare's
'Tempest!'" Beethoven probably resorted to such replies merely to
satisfy troublesome inquirers somewhat resembling the inquisitive
gentleman in Washington Irving's 'Tales of a Traveller,' who "never
could enjoy the kernel of the nut, but pestered himself to get more out
of the shell." Several of the titles of Beethoven's instrumental
compositions ('Pastoral Sonata,' 'Moonlight Sonata,' 'Sonata
appassionata,' etc.) did not originate with the composer, but were given
to the pieces by the publishers to render them more attractive to the
public. The title of his sonata Op. 81, 'Les Adieux, l'Absence et le
Retour,' emanates however from Beethoven himself. This is noteworthy
inasmuch as it has brought the advocates of descriptive music into an
awkward dilemma. They found in this sonata an unmistakable
representation of the parting and ultimate reunion of two ardent
lovers,--when, unhappily for them, Beethoven's autograph manuscript of
the sonata was discovered, in the library of Archduke Rudolph, bearing
the inscription (in German), "The Farewell, Absence, and Return of His
Imperial Highness the Venerated Archduke Rudolph."
A similar subject is treated by J. S. Bach, in a capriccio for the
harpsichord, entitled, 'On the Departure of a very dear Brother,' in
which the different movements are headed as follows:--"No. 1. Entreaty
of friends to put off the journey.--No. 2. Representation of the various
accidents which might befall him.--No. 3. General lament of
friends.--No. 4. Entreaty being of no avail, the friends here bid
farewell.--No. 5. Air of the postillion.--No. 6. Fuga in imitation of
the post-horn."
This is but a modest essay in tone-painting compared with a certain
production by Johann Kuhnau, a predecessor of Bach, who depicted entire
biblical stories in a set of six sonatas for the clavichord, which were
published in Leipzig in the year 1700. Each sonata is prefaced by a
programme, which informs the player what is meant by the several
movements--a very necessary proceeding. The stories depicted are from
the Old Testament. One of the sonatas is entitled, 'Jacob's Marriage;'
another, 'Saul cured by David's Music;' another, 'The Death of Jacob;'
and so on. To show how far Kuhnau ventures into detailed description,
the explanation printed with the sonata called 'Gideon' may find a
place here. It runs as follows:--"1. Gideon mistrusts the promises made
to him by God that he should be victorious.--2. His fear at the sight of
the great host of the enemy.--3. His increasing courage at the relation
of the dream of the enemy, and of its interpretation.--4. The martial
sound of the trombones and trumpets, and likewise the breaking of the
pitchers and the cry of the people.--5. The flight of the enemy and
their pursuit by the Israelites.--6. The rejoicing of the Israelites for
their remarkable victory."
Still earlier, in the seventeenth century, Dieterich Buxtehude depicted
in seven suites for the clavichord, 'The Nature and Qualities of the
Planets;' and Johann Jacob Frohberger, about the same time, composed for
the harpsichord a 'Plainte, faite ‡ Londres, pour passer la mÈlancolie,'
in which he describes his eventful journey from Germany to England--how
in France he was attacked by robbers, and how afterwards in the Channel,
between Calais and Dover, he was plundered by Tunisian pirates.
Frohberger composed also an _allemande_ intended to commemorate an event
which he experienced on the Rhine. The notation is so contrived as to
represent a bridge over the Rhine. Mattheson is said to have cleverly
introduced into one of his scores, by means of the notation, the figure
of a rainbow. Such music one must not hear; enough if one sees it in
print. It deserves to be classed with the silent music mentioned in
Shakespeare's 'Othello,' Act III., Scene 1:--
"_Clown._--But, masters, here's money for you: and the General so
likes your music, that he desires you, for love's sake, to make no
more noise with it.
"_First Musician._--Well, sir, we will not.
"_Clown._--If you have any music that may not be heard, to't again:
but, as they say, to hear music the General does not greatly care.
"_First Musician._--We have none such, sir.
"_Clown._--Then put your pipes in your bag, for I'll away: go,
vanish into air; away!"
It may afford satisfaction to the lover of descriptive music to imagine
he hears in certain choruses by Handel the leaping of frogs, the humming
of flies, or the rattling of hailstones; but the judicious admirer of
these compositions values them especially on account of their purely
musical beauties. These may in a great measure be traced to euphony
combined with originality. Music must be above all things melodiously
beautiful. Our great composers bore this in mind, or acted upon it as a
matter of course; hence the fascinating charms of their music. The
euphony does not depend upon the consonant harmony prevailing in the
composition; if this were the case, music would be the more euphonious
the fewer dissonant chords it contains, and the major key would be more
suitable for euphony than the minor key, since the major scale is
founded upon the most simple relation of musical intervals yielding
concords. However, our finest compositions contain numerous dissonant
chords; and many--perhaps most--are in the minor key. Some of our great
composers have certainly written more important works in minor than in
major keys. Mozart, in those of his compositions which are in major
keys, often manifests extraordinary inspiration as soon as he modulates
into a minor key.
Remarkably devoid of euphony are the compositions of some musicians who,
having taken Beethoven's last works as the chief models for their
aspirations, have thereby been prevented from properly cultivating
whatever gift they may naturally possess for expressing their ideas
melodiously and clearly. Moreover, they talk and act as if affected
originality, or far-fetched fancies, constituted the principal charm of
a composition. Not less tedious are the works of some modern composers
who possess no originality, but who write very correctly in the style of
some classical composer. There has been published a vast amount of such
stale and unprofitable productions. Music, to be interesting, must
possess some quality in a high degree. If it is very good, it is just
what it ought to be; if it is very bad, one can honestly condemn it, and
leave it to its fate. But music which is neither very good nor very
bad--which deserves neither praise nor blame, and which one cannot
easily ignore because it is well meant--this is the most wearisome. And
often how long such productions are! The composers show with many notes
that they have felt but little, while our great composers show with but
few notes that they have felt much.
An inferior composer has, however, not unfrequently a better chance of
becoming soon popular than a superior one. The latter is likely to be
properly appreciated only by a few unbiassed judges--at least during his
earlier career--while the former may possess qualities which at once
please the uncultivated taste, and the voice of the unrefined majority
may silence the voice of the few whose opinion is correct. If you become
acquainted with a celebrated musician, you will perhaps find that he is
not so talented as you expected; and if you become acquainted with a
musician of no reputation, you will perhaps find that he is much more
talented than you expected. Diffidence is apt to be mistaken for want of
ability. Even some of our deepest thinkers, on acknowledging that they
did not understand a certain subject, have been set down by ignorant
people as dunces.
Composers who have made good studies sometimes write ingenious
contrivances or "learned music," instead of inventing a beautiful
melody. They are apt to introduce fugues into their works when they are
short of ideas or at a loss how to proceed. Even our great composers
have done this occasionally, when their power of invention began to
flag. But they were careful, when resorting to mere head-work, to use it
only in places most appropriate; and they generally succeeded in
imparting to it some musical charm.
Always striving to attain a higher degree of perfection, they were in
fact students all their lifetime. The more they learnt, the clearer they
saw that they had much to learn, and that time was precious to them.
Beethoven on his death-bed was studying the scores of Handel's
oratorios, and Mozart to the end of his life investigated the intricate
works of Johann Sebastian Bach.
Many examples from different composers might have been cited in support
of the opinions advanced in this essay. But, not to lengthen it
unnecessarily, only a few examples, referring to such of our composers
as are universally acknowledged to be truly great, have been selected.
No doubt many more will occur to the reflecting reader, if he is
familiar with our classical compositions.
[28] 'Briefe von Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy. Leipzig, 1863. Vol. ii.,
P. 440.
[Illustration]