Of the tragedies, _Macbeth_, for some strange reason, is more
associated with incidental music than any of the others. "The
celebrated music introduced into the tragedy of _Macbeth_, commonly
attributed to +Matthew Locke+," as Novello describes it in his edition,
is associated in the minds of a great number of people with
Shakespeare's play. I have known the work since I was a child. It
used to be very popular at village and school breaking-up concerts. I
never could understand its village popularity, but I know boys liked
some of the strong words in it, and sang them with great gusto. It was
sung in nearly all stage productions until about twenty years ago, and
is very much missed by local choristers when not performed with the
piece on tour. I remember how very disappointed the local
chorus-master was to find that Sir Frank Benson was not using it in his
later years. The chorus-master thought its absence would spoil the
whole play. I have been through the text of Davenant's version, to
which Locke wrote the music, and can discover only four consecutive
lines and some odd words of Shakespeare's in the whole work. How it
persisted through all those years is a great mystery. The music is not
even interesting. The four lines immortalised are:--
Black spirits and white,
Red spirits and gray,
Mingle, mingle, mingle, mingle,
You that mingle may.
For many years this music was falsely attributed to Purcell, but
musical historians have finally cleared Purcell of all {55} connection
with it; though long ago he got even with Locke by writing an elegy on
his death. Daniel Purcell, uncle of Henry, also wrote some _Macbeth_
music.
+John Eccles+ wrote music for a revival at Drury Lane in 1696; and
+Richard Leveridge+, composer of "The Roast Beef of Old England" (a
song which should be popular if revived now) and "All in the Downs,"
also wrote music for the second act in 1708.
To come to more modern times, +Sullivan's+ music is perhaps the best.
Composed for Sir Henry Irving's great production at the Lyceum, it was
an instant success. The overture, a very elaborate work, is often done
on concert platforms. The whole of the music is most effective, and
perfectly suited to the play. Subsequently, Sir Henry gave readings of
the play on tour with Ellen Terry, for which they travelled a full band
of sixty performers for Sullivan's music.
+Michael Balling+, one time musical director for Sir Frank Benson, and
subsequently for Cosima Wagner at Bayreuth, where he conducted _The
Ring_ and _Parsival_, composed some very clever music for his old
chief's production, very modern in feeling and permeated with Scottish
atmosphere: the Witch music being very grim and mysterious, and in the
cauldron scene very clearly bringing in a suggestion of Locke's
"Mingle, mingle." The Banquet music (strings only) is bagpipey, and
the marches for Macbeth and Macduff are stirring and in strong
contrast, while there is fine battle music for the close.
Unfortunately, he wrote no overture or _entr'actes_.
Several operas have been founded on this theme, the most notable being
+Verdi's+ _Macbetto_, produced on March 17, 1847, at the Pergola,
Florence. Unfortunately, Verdi was not so lucky in his librettist as
he was in the cases of {56} _Otello_ and _Falstaff_, when he had the
invaluable assistance of Arrigo Boito, perhaps the greatest librettist
who ever lived, with the exception of Wagner. Piave's book is not very
inspiring. The opera was never a success. Verdi could not see Macbeth
as a tenor, and bravely made him a dramatic baritone. The Italian
could not understand a grand opera in which the hero was not a tenor;
and the only tenor, Macduff, comes on late in the evening. It is a
great pity, as there is much fine music in the work, though very little
of Shakespeare's _Macbeth_ gets through. The very Italian singing and
dancing witches seem out of place on a blasted heath, and the ballet of
Scottish retainers savours of a warmer clime than that of the North of
Scotland. Still, the work should be revived.
+Hippolyte Andre Jean Baptiste Chelard+ was born in Paris in 1789, and
subsequently won the Grand Prix de Rome. He was one of those
Frenchmen, like Berlioz later, whose music was thought little of in
Paris but was much admired in Munich and London. The adaptation of
this play for the French lyric stage was not suitable, especially at
the Opera House, where the action and words are the most important
things to the public; and Chelard found that his harmonies, simple
enough to our modern ears, were too complex for the Parisian audience.
He left Paris and went to Munich, where he revised the whole opera most
carefully, and made a great success of it; the result being that he
became Court Capellmeister and dedicated the score to the Bavarian
King, his patron. The rest of his life he divided between failure in
Paris and success abroad, again very like his so much greater
compatriot, Hector Berlioz. In this opera, for the first time, so far
as I know, the witches are given names--Elsie, Nona, and Groem. I
think the last a good name for a witch, but I should not dream of
calling Shakespeare's first or second witch Elsie or Nona. I don't
think Rouget de Lisle, the librettist, better known as the poet and
composer of the "Marseillaise," ought to have done this. The opera is
in three acts, and opens with the {57} conventional overture of the
period--as composed by second-rate musicians, quite harmless; but one
expects something more from a _Macbeth_ overture. The Witches have
some effective trios, some of them unaccompanied; and one of their
motives was used by Liszt, who knew Chelard at Weimar, and taken from
Liszt by Wagner for use in the _Walkuere_. It comes quite as a surprise
in its original place in this _Macbeth_. _Macbeth's_ march is fine and
sombre, and the ballet music is quite exciting. One number is marked
_tempo d' inglese_, though why a Franco-Scottish dance, produced in
Germany, should be in English time I cannot understand. The choruses
are broadly written, and the music, though mostly very florid, is often
dramatic. There is a tremendously difficult and florid song for
mezzo-soprano in the third act for a character called Moina, a friend
of Lady Macbeth, and the prelude to this act is a long duet-cadenza for
harp and flute. It has nothing to do with the plot, and must have been
put in to please two friends who were excellent players or had valuable
patrons. The librettist does not stick too closely to Shakespeare's
story; in fact, he gives Duncan a daughter, the Moina just mentioned,
and introduces the Sleep-walking scene before Duncan's death. When the
opera was performed in London in 1832, Mme. Schroeder-Devrient, for so
long Wagner's favourite singer, actress, and companion, sang the part
of Lady Macbeth.
An amusing story is told of Chelard's _Macbeth_ by FitzGerald, Tenderer
into English verse of the _Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam_. In one of his
letters to the celebrated actress, Fanny Kemble, niece of John Philip
of that name, he writes: "You may know there is a French opera of
_Macbeth_, by Chelard. This was being played at the Dublin
theatre--Viardot, I think, the heroine. However that may be, the
curtain drew up for the Sleep-walking scene; Doctor and Nurse were
there, while a long mysterious symphony went on--till a voice from the
gallery called out to the leader of the band, Levey--'Whist, Lavy, my
dear--tell us now--is it a boy or a girl?'"
{58}
Surely the world's operatic tragedy is that +Beethoven+ never completed
his _Macbeth_. He composed sketches for an overture and chorus to
libretto by J. von Collin, who also, as we have seen, wrote the play
_Coriolan_, which inspired one of Beethoven's greatest overtures.
+Wilhelm Taubert's+ opera _Macbeth_ was produced in Berlin in 1857,
libretto by F. Eggers. It is in five acts, and begins with an overture
in Scoto-German style. The curtain rises on the blasted heath, the
three witches, two sopranos and one alto, singing in a very spirited
manner. Macbeth enters, and the music closely follows the original
plot. The second scene is in Macbeth's castle at Inverness, Lady
Macbeth being discovered alone, having received her husband's letter.
This is really very dramatic music; and when a servant announces that
Duncan is coming that very night, Taubert gives one a fine thrill.
Duncan enters and is heartily cheered by Macbeth's retainers, and all
exit save Macbeth and his lady, who soon make arrangements for King
Duncan's long sleep. The act ends _pianissimo_ in a sombre manner. In
the second act there is much festal music, a great procession of bards
playing harps, and much singing of "Hail, Macbeth, hail!" Now comes a
Scoto-German characteristic dance, towards the end of which Macbeth
hears from the murderer that Banquo is dead, but that his son has
escaped. The music gets louder and wilder at the end of this dialogue,
and the dance finishes with great abandon.
Macbeth summons his guests to the banquet, and Macduff (tenor), with
harp, sings a song in praise of Scotland and Macbeth, the chorus
joining in heartily. At the end of the song Banquo's ghost appears and
spoils Macbeth's party. This act also ends _piano_, Lady Macbeth
taking a very remorseful Macbeth to have a nice quiet rest.
The third act takes place in the Witches' cave. Hecate (tenor) and
chorus are with the Witches. Macbeth enters and is told about Birnam
Wood. The music here is very impressive. The Witches raise up the
ghosts of the eight {59} kings, and they pass Macbeth to a sort of
funeral march; this also is very striking. The scene ends with a
terrific hubbub, which gradually dies away, the curtain rising on
Birnam Wood and a male chorus singing "O Scotland, poor fatherland, how
has fate treated you!" It is a very sentimental bit of work, and must
often draw tears; but I don't think real Scotsmen would be caring about
it. After this sad opening we are prepared for Macduff's entrance. He
is full of the news of the murder of his wife and children, and is very
vocal about it. The chorus sympathise, and the act closes by Malcolm,
Fleance, Macduff, and male chorus vowing vengeance on Macbeth. The
third act begins with the Sleep-walking scene. The doctor and
lady-in-waiting are there, and presently Lady Macbeth enters, and,
keeping closely to the original text, the act finishes again
_pianissimo_. The scene of the last act is in a chamber near
Dunsinane. A harper sings a good imitation of a Scottish song, and
then the Wood of Birnam seems to move nearer and nearer. Lady Macbeth
appears in the last scene of all, and sings a very dramatic aria,
welcoming the advent of the Birnam Wood, and firmly believing in the
immortality of Macbeth; but Macduff kills him, and all he says to his
wife is "Farewell, my wife, Eternal sleep is welcome." The Witches
make a short appearance here, singing "He had the crown, we have the
King," and Malcolm is crowned; and the chorus spread themselves,
hailing their new King. By this time they must have become accustomed
to hailing new kings. Already they have sung in praise of Duncan and
Macbeth, and now, quite easily, they adapt their vocal transports to
Malcolm, and are very Scoto-Germanic in their efforts. Still, the
opera has very good points, and should not die.
The latest opera on this subject is the gigantic lyric drama in a
prologue and three acts, each act having two scenes, by +Ernest Bloch+,
poem by Edmond Fleg, after Shakespeare.
This work was produced at the Opera Comique, Paris, {60} 1910, under
the direction of Albert Carre. I can find nothing about the composer
in any dictionary of music, but, judging from the score, he is a modern
of moderns. The work is planned on an heroic scale, and is appallingly
difficult to perform, the time and key changing, sometimes every bar,
during long passages: moreover, the composer seems very fond of putting
in an odd five-four bar unexpectedly. The opera opens with a prelude,
depicting the blasted heath, and the witches enter one by one. They
are, severally, soprano, mezzo, and contralto. During their trio
distant drums and muted trumpet are heard announcing the near presence
of Macbeth, Banquo, and the army. They gradually get nearer, and
finally, with a burst of grim, significant music, the mortals enter to
three horrible chords and a sinister figure in the bass. At the words,
"Glamis, and thane of Cawdor! The greatest is behind," the orchestra
plays a solemn theme curiously reminiscent of the Valhalla _motif_ in
Wagner's _Ring_. So ends the prologue; the orchestra conveys one to
Macbeth's castle, and the curtain rises just as he has finished telling
Lady Macbeth about his interview with the three witches on the heath.
This ingenious device saves the time generally used in the latter
scene, and also saves the audience hearing Macbeth's account of his
meeting with the Witches, which they have already heard. Further, it
allows Macbeth to be present when the servant announces the advent of
King Duncan, which makes a strong dramatic point, and is admirably
emphasised by the fine Duncan theme ringing out in the brass. It would
take hundreds of pages to explain in detail this enormous and
complicated work, so I will just touch on a few points of outstanding
interest. Duncan's entrance is finely managed, and his dignified
thanks and praise of Macbeth and his lady are calmly and peacefully
set, in great contrast to all that has gone before. In the duet
(Macbeth and Lady Macbeth) which follows, the composer emphasises the
scorn of the lady for her undecided husband, and the passage, "I have
nourished children at my breast, and I know it is sweet," has a {61}
concentrated bitterness in it that is not often found in music. A very
elaborate and beautiful orchestral scene-change interlude, founded on
the Duncan theme, quiet and very calm, brings us to a court in
Macbeth's castle. It is moonlight, and all is still until Macbeth
begins the dagger soliloquy, which is set with great force. The
Porter's song is very elaborate, and the composer has an explanation,
in a footnote to the score, in which he says: "The character of the
song of the Porter is this:--The Porter is drunk. He really hears the
knocking. He listens, but his troubled brain confuses reality and
fiction, and the hammering blows awaken in him the memory of a familiar
song. In each verse you get a suggestion of this old song, and only at
the last verse he realises that he must open the door." The situation
is held with great intensity. The song is long; there are three
verses, each richly varied, and I should think it is one of the most
difficult songs to sing ever written. A great _ensemble_ number, for
principals and chorus, very dramatic and brilliantly written
technically, nearly finishes the act; but by a happy device the crowd
rush into the King's chamber, leaving the stage empty save for an old
man. The music fades away, the great bell continues to toll, and the
ancient sings, very quietly, "I can recall all that has happened for
seventy years; I have seen terrible hours and strange things, but I
have never seen a night comparable to this night." (I translate
roughly.) Curtain falls slowly.
The second act opens in Macbeth's castle, himself as King. The opening
orchestral introduction is very regal, but Macbeth's subsequent
soliloquy shows how doubtful he is of himself. A fine series of
fanfares brings on Lennox and his followers to the banquet. The music
for the appearance of Banquo is most suggestive; in fact, in suiting
the music to the words or situation Bloch is never at fault. The last
Witch scene, with the procession of kings, is awe-inspiring, as is Lady
Macbeth's sleep-walking scene and Macbeth's "to-morrow and to-morrow"
monologue. The tragic feeling never ceases until the very death of
Macbeth, when the curtain falls slowly.
{62}
This is, I know, a very inadequate description of a most tragic opera,
but I have no more space. There are no separate numbers, save the
Porter's song, which could be detached from the rest of the work. The
opera must be taken as an entity or not at all. There are no attempts
at sustained, beautiful melody; everything is sacrificed to the drama.
There are no effective bits from a singer's point of view, and Mr
Arthur Godfrey would have some difficulty in writing a really popular
selection founded on this work. For a perfect performance, wonderful
acting, singing, orchestral playing, and _mise-en-scene_ are absolutely
essential. It requires months of the most careful rehearsal, but the
result would justify all the time and labour spent over it. It should
be a great privilege to take the smallest part in a performance of such
a stupendous tragedy.
It is the general custom of amateurs to sneer at +Spohr+. True, he was
the finest classical violinist of his time, but that cannot account for
the general abuse from which he suffers: there must be something else.
The something else seems to me to be the curious foresight he had with
regard to Richard Wagner's works. When no one, save Liszt, would hear
them or of them, dear old-fashioned classical Spohr risked his whole
reputation to produce operas by this young art--and
practical--revolutionary at his theatre at Cassel. There was something
very splendid about him. Among the enormous quantity of music he has
written there is one overture, "Macbeth," to which I wish to draw
attention; it is short, it is conventional, but there is a lot of the
real feeling of _Macbeth_ in it. I don't say for an instant that this
is an epic, but it is a very excellent piece of work and quite worthy
of the great man, if not great composer, who devised it.
In some editions of +Robert Schumann's+ pianoforte works the
"Novelette," op. 21, No. 3, is headed with these words from _Macbeth_:
"When shall we three meet again?" They certainly fit in with the first
phrase of the movement, {63} and the whole sounds very like a witches'
dance, but there is no mention of the words in Peters' edition. I hope
it is true, as that gives us another piece of Schumann's Shakespearian
music in addition to the _Julius Caesar_ overture and the last Clown's
song from _Twelfth Night_.
+Raff's+ "Macbeth" overture is quite one of his most successful works.
It opens with a dance of the Witches, mostly for flute and piccolo at
first, but getting very wild later; then there is a sort of dialogue
between Macbeth (wood wind and horns) and Witches (their own dance).
These themes are developed with considerable skill, and a new one (Lady
Macbeth) is added, as are some odd little bits of a sort of Scottish
character. There is fine fight-music near the end, and the final
triumph of Macduff is celebrated with a very cheerful noise. This
overture would make an admirable opening for an elaborate stage
performance of _Macbeth_.
+Henry Hugo Pierson+ was an English composer, born at Oxford, 1815, but
is still unknown to the majority of his fellow-countrymen. After
leaving Cambridge he studied in Germany, where he became very intimate
with Mendelssohn. Meyerbeer, Spohr, and Schumann were all his friends
and admirers; and in 1844 he succeeded Sir Henry Bishop as Professor of
Music at Edinburgh, but very soon resigned, and settled down in
Germany, marrying a German literary lady, Caroline Leonhardt. The
inordinate Mendelssohn-worship of his day rendered England a difficult
home for a modern English composer: so he changed the spelling of his
name from Pearson to Pierson, settled down in his adopted country, and
died at Leipsic, January 18, 1873.
His symphonic poem, "Macbeth," op. 51, was once performed at the
Crystal Palace concerts, but has been very thoroughly neglected since.
It is real modern programme music, and scored for a very large
orchestra, including a solo part for the cornet-a-pistons and a
military drum. The symphonic poem opens at Act ii., Scene 2, and is
headed {64} with the words, "Hours dreadful and strange things." The
music is very slow and mysterious, but works up to a climax on the
words of the Witches, "Fair is foul and foul is fair." Then comes,
very _piano_, "The March of the Scottish Army"--a most characteristic
piece, the tune on the high wood wind, drones on the bassoons, and
great use made of the military drum. This works up to a tremendous
_fortissimo_, and dies away mysteriously before Banquo's words:--
What are these,
So withered and so wild in their attire,
That look not like th' inhabitants o' th' earth,
And yet are on't?
A curious and interesting effect is here made by the tenor trombone,
clarinet, and cornet taking the parts of the three witches, and playing
the themes that fit what the Witches are supposed to speak. I mean the
three "All hail" speeches. The orchestration is full of sinister
mystery here; but, on Macbeth's words, "Two truths are told As happy
prologue to the swelling act Of the imperial theme," the music becomes,
for a time, triumphant, though very wild, and breaks off suddenly for a
Lady Macbeth scene. She is reading Macbeth's letter, and these words
are printed in the score: "This have I thought good to deliver thee.
Lay it to thy heart, and fare thee well." The subjects here used are
the Witches' prophetic theme and a passionate Lady Macbeth one. All
the music in this section is highly emotional, dramatic, and
brilliantly clever. On Macbeth's words, "If it were done when 'tis
done, then 'twere well It were done quickly," a gruesome little passage
for strings and bassoons heralds the King's feast music, consisting of
curious disjointed wood-wind passages, till Macbeth's words, "Is this a
dagger which I see before me?", when the music seems to drive him to
the murder. After the words, "Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell
That summons thee to Heaven or to Hell," there are two intensely
dramatic bars; and then, _pianissimo_, is heard the Witches' prophetic
_motif_ on the cornet and horn--a fine {65} bit of musical
word-painting. Now comes the longest episode in the work, a
magnificent Witches' dance, the composer employing nearly every
resource of the modern orchestra. Then, in the distance, is heard the
march of the English army, very stirring and martial. At the end of
this passage, Macbeth says: "It's ripe for shaking, and the powers
above Put on their instruments." Here a great stirring is made in the
orchestra, and a cry (violin solo) is heard:--
_Macbeth_: Wherefore was that cry?
_Seyton_: The Queen, my lord, is dead.
Very piteous and poignant music is used in this passage, broken in upon
by the strains of battle. At the words, "Blow, wind, come, wrack! At
least we'll die with harness on our back," the music dies down for the
familiar dialogue between Macbeth and Macduff concerning the
gynaecological manner of the latter's birth, and a few more bars of
fight music finish off the former. The sound dies down. The prophetic
theme is heard very faintly on the trombone and finally on the horn;
the music gets softer and slower, and so fades away.
I have written at special length about this composer, because it seems
so strange that an English musician, a Harrow and Cambridge man, and a
pupil of Attwood and Corfe, should have been so much in advance of his
time and especially of his country. Born, as we saw, in 1815, he was
only six years younger than Mendelssohn, and forty years old when Sir
Henry Bishop died. He was four years younger than Liszt, and doubtless
got the general idea of the symphonic poem form, or want of form, from
the elder master. He was two years younger than Wagner, yet his
earlier compositions are far in advance, musically, of Wagner's early
work. It seems deplorable that this remarkable English composer should
be so utterly ignored by his countrymen.
+Richard Strauss's+ magnificent Symphonic Poem on this theme must take
a very high place in the musical {66} commentary on _Macbeth_. It is
scored for the largest possible orchestra, and every known musical
device in orchestration or harmony is to be found in this enormous and
complicated score. The poem begins sombrely, but almost at once there
breaks in a short fanfare, which occurs repeatedly throughout the work.
Immediately after the fanfare the first subject is announced on the
brass, and the whole work gets going. Strauss prints a short speech of
Lady Macbeth's beginning, "Hie thee hither, that I may pour My spirits
in thine ear; And chastise with the valour of my tongue All that
impedes thee from the golden round." In the score the music here is
marked "wildly _appassionato_," though _pianissimo_ (Strauss here uses
the device of _tremolo_ strings playing on the bridge with great
effect). Afterwards he introduces a long, broad, and very beautiful
theme, the sort of theme which his detractors are always challenging
him to write, and which he is always writing. Strauss gives no
definite programme in his score, and it is up to anyone hearing it to
make his own; but one could not go very far wrong. There is no need to
describe the various developments, thematic and harmonic, which take
place in the themes before the end of this work. It is long. Ninety
pages of closely printed full score take some time to play, and a
longer time to describe in detail: so I content myself with saying that
anyone can get a fine, convincing picture of the life and death of
Macbeth by hearing this work and not bothering whether a certain theme
means Duncan, Bloody Child, Bleeding Sergeant, Macbeth, or Lady Macbeth.
{67}