+Wagner's+ one known contribution to Shakespearian music is his two-act
opera, _Das Liebesverbot_, founded on _Measure for Measure_, and not,
as so many people think, on _Love's Labour's Lost_. It is his second
complete opera, and, for reasons I will explain later, was only once
performed; now, seeing that the composer, according to some
authorities, apparently destroyed all of it except a couple of numbers,
it may never be done again. Wagner planned the libretto during the
summer of 1834, while on holiday at Teplitz. He had lately heard
Auber's _Masaniello_ at Leipsic, and was astonished at the effect of
the striking scenes and rapid action of this opera. Could he not
improve on Auber's music and produce an opera in which the action
should be equally swift? He took _Measure for Measure_, changed the
scene from Vienna to Sicily, "where a German governor, aghast at the
incomprehensible laziness of its populace, attempts to carry out a
puritanical reform and lamentably fails." (The words in quotation
marks are taken from Wagner's article on this opera in volume vii. of
his prose works, as with the other quotations that follow.)
The score of the opera was finished while the composer was musical
director at the town theatre of Magdeburg, during the winter of
1835-36. Wagner had the right to claim a benefit performance, and,
having an excellent troupe of singers at his disposal, decided to
produce his opera at this benefit. "In spite of a royal subsidy and
the intervention of a theatre committee, our worthy director was in a
perennial state of bankruptcy," says Wagner, "and before the end of the
season the most popular member of {68} the company, in spite of the
unpunctuality of the payment of their salaries and the offer of better
engagements elsewhere." Wagner modestly says: "It was only through my
being a favourite with the whole opera company that I induced the
singers not merely to stay until the end of March, but also to
undertake the study of my opera, most exhausting in view of the
briefness of the time." He only had ten days for all the various
rehearsals. He says: "Notwithstanding that it had been quite
impossible to drive them into a little conscious settledness of memory,
I finally reckoned on a miracle to be wrought by my own acquired
dexterity as conductor." This does not bear out the general opinion
held in London as to Wagner's conducting. During his season as
conductor of the Philharmonic in 1855, he had very severe opposition
with which to contend, especially that of the musical critics Chorley
and Davison (the _Athenaeum_ and the _Times_); but I should think Wagner
was a pretty useful conductor, to judge from his article about
conducting. Wagner kept the company together at rehearsal by singing
all their parts and shouting the necessary action, forgetting that this
could not be done at the public performance. At the general rehearsal
Wagner's conducting, gesticulation, shouting, and prompting kept things
together, but at the performance, before a crowded house, there was
utter chaos.
Unfortunately, Wagner had allowed the manager, Herr Bethmann, to have
the receipts of the _premiere_ as his benefit; and at the second
performance, Wagner's benefit, there were few in the audience, and a
free fight, amusingly described by him, was waged behind the scenes.
It takes Wagner six pages of closely printed prose to give a _resume_
of the plot, and it would be impossible in my present space to do more
than comment on some of the changes. The Duke, who is the most
indefatigable talker in Shakespeare's play, becomes a King, who never
even appears. Angelo becomes a German Governor, who tries to foist
German puritanism on the hot-blooded Sicilians. There is no moated
grange for Mariana, who in Wagner's version is {69} a fellow-novice of
Isabella. Neither King nor Duke ever appearing, Isabella marries
Lucio--a strange alteration to make. Isabella, to save her brother
Claudio, arranges an appointment with the German Governor at the
Carnival (Wagner's idea), and sends Mariana instead. They are
discovered, and the Governor expects to be executed for his
ill-treatment of Mariana, when news is heard of the King's arrival in
harbour. In Wagner's words, "Everyone decides to go in full carnival
attire to greet the beloved prince, who surely will be pleased to see
how ill the sour puritanism of the Germans becomes the heat of Sicily.
The word goes round! Gay festivals delight him more than all the
gloomy edicts. Frederick, with his newly married wife Mariana, has to
head the procession; the novice, Isabella, lost to the cloister for
ever, makes the second pair with Lucio." This is Wagner's ending, and
anyone who knows the original text can get a fair idea of his
alterations.
With the few, but very important, exceptions I have mentioned, he
sticks fairly closely to Shakespeare's text. In regard to the troubles
concerning the production, much has been amusingly written by Wagner.
The police took offence at the title "Forbidden Love." The production
was for the last week before Easter, when only serious pieces were
performed. Wagner assured the magistrate that it was founded on a
serious play by Shakespeare, and, not having read further than the
title, the official passed the opera on condition that the title was
changed to _The Novice of Palermo_. Wagner says: "In the Magdeburg
performance, remarkably enough, I had nothing at all to suffer from the
dubious character of my opera text; the story remained utterly unknown
to the audience, on account of its thoroughly vague representation."
Of his benefit performance the composer says: "Whether a few seats were
filled at the commencement of the overture I can scarcely judge. About
a quarter of an hour earlier the only people I could see in the stalls
were my landlady and her husband, and, strange to say, a Polish Jew in
full costume! I was hoping for an increase in the audience {70}
notwithstanding, when suddenly the most unheard-of scenes took place in
the wings. The husband of my primadonna (Isabella) had fallen upon the
second tenor, a very pretty young man, who sang my 'Claudio,' and
against whom the offended husband had long nursed a secret grudge. It
seems that having convinced himself of the nature of the audience when
he accompanied me to the curtain, the lady's husband deemed the
longed-for hour arrived for taking vengeance on his wife's admirer
without damage to the theatrical enterprise. Claudio was so badly
cuffed and beaten by him that the unhappy wretch had to escape to the
cloak-room with bleeding face. Isabella was told of it, rushed in
despair at her raging husband, and received such blows from him that
she fell into convulsions." There was a general free fight, all the
company paying off old scores. The principals were unable to proceed
with the performance, the manager made the usual speech about
unforeseen obstacles, and the performance did not take place. This is
the correct account of the exciting second and last performance, told
almost in Wagner's own words, of the composer's only Shakespearian
opera.
Of the music, Grove says the score is in the possession of the King of
Bavaria at Munich. In the British Museum there is a copy of a carnival
song and chorus, very bright and spirited, but with no trace of the
later Wagner. There is also a "Carnival scene" for pianoforte, founded
on motives from the opera, by Geo. Kirchner. Unfortunately, the first
half of this fantasia is the song I have just noticed, with elaborate
bravura passages for the piano, but the middle episode is much more
like the real man. It is a fairly slow, melodious passage, full of
interesting modulations, quite foreshadowing what the composer might
do. If the rest of the work is up to this form, and if the score is
really in Munich, I hope that it will be published, and performed with
better luck than at Wagner's "benefit."
As there has been so little music composed for this play, I will give a
short account of as many settings as I can find of the solitary lyric
contained in it. Probably the {71} first setting of these words was by
+Dr John Wilson+, born at Faversham, 1595, who is supposed to have sung
Balthazar in _Much Ado About Nothing_, and other similar parts, and to
have been mentioned by name in the First Folio edition of Shakespeare's
plays.
In this edition (1623) the stage direction runs, "Enter the Prince,
Leonato, Claudio, and Jacke Wilson." This particular song is published
in Playford's _Select Ayres and Dialogues_, published in 1659 for one,
two, or three voices, to the theorbo-lute or bass-viol. The words are
beautifully set to a quaint and pathetic air, and there is no verbal
repetition. Dr Wilson adds the second verse, "Hide, O hide those hills
of snow," by Fletcher, to make the song an ordinary length, without
futile repetition.
The next setting is by +John Weldon+, pupil of Henry Purcell, born at
Chichester, January 19, 1676, and educated at Eton. This song is
interesting, but very florid, and the words are dreadfully ill-treated.
Weldon only sets the verse attributed to Shakespeare. The music was on
sale at "The Golden Harp and Hoboy" in Catherine Street. Our
music-sellers do not call their shops by such pretty names now.
Next on our list comes +Johann Ernst Galliard+, happily named as a
composer of theatre music, one of our earliest German "peaceful
penetrators." Born at Zelle, Hanover, in 1687, he soon emigrated to
England, where he successfully composed operas and much dramatic music,
including this pretty little song, which was published in 1730. He was
organist at Somerset House, and, I suppose, played the organ while the
clerks filled in birth certificates and made out income-tax forms. He
died in London in 1749.
+Thomas Chilcot+, composer of the next version of these words, was
organist at Bath Abbey from 1733 until he died (1766). This song was
published in 1745, and is a good example of the period, slightly
florid, but very melodious, {72} with a charming accompaniment for
stringed orchestra. It is a song that would repay careful study on the
part of a high tenor. The second Fletcher verse is added in this
version.
Of +Christopher Dixon+, the composer of the next setting, no mention is
made in Grove's _Dictionary of Music and Musicians_, and all that seems
to be known of him is that he was called "of York," and some cantatas
and songs of his are in the British Museum Library. This song,
published in 1760, has a flowing, rather sad melody, and the second
verse is again used.
A glee for male voices to these words was published about 1780. It was
composed by either +Tommaso+ or +Giuseppe Giordani+, two
composer-brothers--probably by the former, who was born at Naples in
1740 and migrated to Dublin in 1761, and wrote a great deal of music to
English lyrics. This glee is a charming setting. The part-writing is
always graceful, and often very ingenious, the inner parts melodious
and interesting, and the whole effective. The composer has adapted
this glee for mezzo-soprano solo with harpsichord accompaniment, and a
very pretty song it makes.
+Jackson of Exeter+, as he was generally called, who wrote the
celebrated church service known as Jackson in F, has set these words as
a duet, with harpsichord accompaniment. The first verse only is taken,
but the composer "rings the changes" on the words to such an unhappy
extent that it makes quite a long number. Simple, melodious, and
graceful, like nearly all of Jackson's secular music, it is not of much
value as a serious setting of the words. Strangely enough, it is
marked _allegro molto_, and, should this instruction be carried out
literally, the effect would be very curious, taking the words into
consideration. The composer was born at Exeter in 1730, and this duet
was published in 1780. He was a {73} keen landscape painter, and
imitated the style of his friend Gainsborough.
+W. Tindal+, whose setting was published in 1785, is not mentioned in
Grove's _Dictionary_, and seems to have composed very little music.
Six vocal pieces, of which this is No. 2, and eight English, Spanish,
and Scottish ballads, one of which is a quaint setting of part of
Hamlet's love-letter, "But never doubt I love," are all the
compositions of his I can find. This duet is full of clever bits of
imitation and good contrapuntal part-writing, and is melodious as well.
Tindal also repeats the words almost _ad nauseam_, and only uses the
first verse.
+Sir John Andrew Stevenson+, Mus.D., composed a glee on these words,
which was published in 1795, but is of no great merit.
All that I can discover about +Luffman Atterbury+ is that he was a
carpenter before he became a musician, was a musician-in-ordinary to
George III., sang at the Handel commemoration of 1784, and died in
1796. He composed one beautiful piece of music, a round in three parts
to the first verse of these words, which is really a perfect gem. The
melody is simple and beautiful, the counter-melodies are equally
taking, and the part-writing is very skilful. What more can one desire?
{74}