THE TEMPEST

Of all the plays _The Tempest_ has been most popular with musicians.

The earliest music to _The Tempest_ is generally believed to be by

+Robert Johnson+, who wrote settings of "Where the bee sucks" and "Full

fathom five." The _Encyclopaedia Britannica_ is quite definite on the

subject; but as Johnson was born in 1604, and Shakespeare died in 1616,

and had left off writing plays for several years before his death,

Johnson must, as I said in the Introduction, have been something of a

musical prodigy.

The next in order seems to be +Matthew Locke's+ instrumental music to

an operatic version of _The Tempest_ (based on Dryden-Davenant), played

in London in 1673. This work was revived and revised with additional

numbers by +Henry Purcell+ in 1695. The exquisite "Come unto these

yellow sands" was one of the additional numbers. In both of these

adaptations the words are very much altered, or "improved," as the

theatre people of the time thought; but a very good hotch-potch version

can be made by taking the best numbers mentioned, scoring them lightly,

and having them sung simply and not operatically.

+Arne's+ "Where the bee sucks" is his best work, and, I think, the most

beautiful of all the settings.

+John Christopher Smith+, Handel's pupil and amanuensis, composed two

operas on _The Tempest_, one of which was produced in London in 1756.

The overture is the usual {135} one of the period; but Ariel's storm

song, which opens the first act, beginning with a long orchestral

prelude, is a very original piece of work. It is a dramatic recitative

with elaborate orchestral accompaniment to the words, slightly adapted,

from Ariel's speech to Prospero in Act i., Scene 2. The following

numbers have no connection with Shakespeare's play, a delightful

setting of "Come unto these yellow sands," for Ariel, being the next

Shakespearian lyric taken--this for high soprano with strings, very

florid but melodious; and the music for "Full fathom five" is also very

much in keeping with the words. Caliban (baritone) sings "No more dams

I'll make for fish" to a rollicking tune, and follows it with a curious

song called "The owl is abroad." The words are not by Shakespeare, but

it is said that it was a great favourite with audiences.

Ariel's song, "Before you can say come and go," is very gracefully set,

and has a charming _obbligato_ part for the violin; but Prospero's

recitative, "Now doth my project gather to a head," is Shakespeare's

blank verse set to music. The duet ends peacefully and happily with a

duet for Ferdinand and Miranda about "gentle love, innocence, and

chaste desire." On the whole the work is disappointing. One could

have done with a little more Shakespeare and less of Christopher

Smith's own librettist; but it contains much charming music, some of

which would sound very fresh if revived now.

+John Davy+, a West-countryman, born at Exeter, 1763, composed an

overture and other music for _The Tempest_. It is dedicated to the

memory of John Philip Kemble, and includes songs by Arne, Purcell, and

Linley. The overture is a very simple affair, bringing in Purcell's

"Where the bee sucks" and "Come unto these yellow sands," and is,

therefore, not so independent of the rest of the music as the overture

of this period usually is.

After the overture comes +Linley's+ graceful setting of "O, bid your

faithful Ariel fly," sung in Prospero's cave {136} by Ariel (the words

by Dr Laurence). Then follows a very simple so-called symphony by

Davy, all very quiet and peaceful, going into Linley's horrible "Storm

Chorus." Christopher Smith's Caliban song is introduced after the

"Storm"--"No more dams I'll make for fish," which has a very cheerful

tune; and Purcell's beautiful settings of "Come unto these yellow

sands" and "Full fathom five" follow. Between Acts i. and ii. Davy

introduced a symphony by himself, consisting of a very simple Largo,

followed by an equally simple Rondo. The song and chorus that follow

are by Purcell, to words by Dryden, beginning "King Fortune smiles,"

which, like the next song by the same authors, are too interesting to

pass over in silence, though neither has any real connection with

Shakespeare. The music for the appearance of Fairies is by Purcell, to

words by Dryden, "Where does the black fiend ambition reside?", and is

for two bass voices and chorus, with an interesting solo bassoon part.

The opening of the third act consists of a very pretty symphony by

Davy, in the form of an air with variations. The only musical number

in this act consists of a song, very grotesque in style, for Caliban,

words by Ben Jonson, music by Christopher Smith. The prelude to the

fourth act is in march rhythm, a pleasant, cheerful piece of music,

composed by Davy. The setting of "Where the bee sucks" is Arne's

delightful one, and is sung by Ariel, repeated by a quartet, with added

words and the music much elaborated, while, according to the stage

directions, Ariel and the spirits ascend into the sky. This is the

last number, but the untiring Linley has added an appendix consisting

of two songs for Ariel, "While you here do snoring lie" and "Ere you

can say come and go," and a duet for Juno and Ceres, entitled "Honour,

riches, marriage, blessing"; all with words by Shakespeare from this

play--quite a concession on the part of a composer of this period,

especially of T. Linley himself.

Between R. Johnson's time and the present day I can {137} trace twenty

operas on this subject, but none of them has held the stage. The only

modern one that was produced in London seems to be +Halevy's+ two-act

opera _La Tempesta_, book by Scribe, produced at Her Majesty's in

Italian. The story of how this work came to be composed is rather

interesting. In October 1831, Mendelssohn gave a grand concert at

Munich, and was so successful that he received a commission to compose

an opera for the Munich theatre. He consulted with Immerman as to the

libretto, and arranged with him for one founded on _The Tempest_. The

composer and librettist, however, soon quarrelled, and the opera scheme

lay dormant for some time. About the middle of October Mendelssohn was

in communication with Lumley, lessee of Her Majesty's, for an opera,

libretto by Scribe, on the same subject. Mendelssohn did not like this

libretto, and finally turned it down; and Jacques Francois Fromental

Elias, "a Jew whose real name was Levy," as Grove's _Dictionary_

prettily phrases it, then set the libretto. Halevy was born in Paris,

1799, and studied at the Conservatoire under Cherubini. Having won the

second prize twice, he finally carried off the Grand Prix de Rome

itself.

The opera was produced at Her Majesty's, London, on June 14, 1850, and

made an enormous success. The first act is opened by a chorus of Air

Spirits, who obey the orders of Ariel. Sleeping Sylphs are wakened,

and make together a most poetic choreographic effect, which is repeated

again in the first tableau summoned by Prospero. Carlotta Grisi acted

with great success as Ariel in this work, and Lablache was terrible and

grotesque, though sometimes tender, as Caliban. Sontag was the

Miranda, and the whole performance was conducted by our own Michael

Balfe. The most popular numbers in the score were the cavatina, "Parmi

una voce mormore"; the duet, "S' odio, orror di me non hai"; and the

finale to the second act, which is full of movement and originality.

A lyrical drama, after Shakespeare, by Armand Silvestre {138} and

Pierre Berton, music by +Victor Alphonse Duvernoy+, was produced in the

Salle du Chatelet on November 24, 1880. This remarkable work won the

Grand Prix for musical composition offered every two years by the town

of Paris. It obtained a very well-deserved success at the first public

performance for its great qualities of form and style. Much of the

opera was greatly applauded, especially the duet of Ferdinand and

Miranda, "Parle encore, que ta voix m'enivre," the dramatic trio,

"Courbe-toi, vaincu sous la chaine," the very original song of Caliban,

the symphonic music descriptive of Miranda's sleep, the prelude to the

third act, and the pretty ballet air of the Sylphs.

Larousse, the musical historian, says that it is a truly interesting

work, and certainly produces a grand effect on the stage. The composer

of this opera was born in Paris, 1842.

+Zdenko Fibich's+ three-act opera, _Boure_, or _Der Sturm_ (1895), is a

recent opera on this subject, and is by far the most modern in

treatment. All Shakespeare's principal characters are present, and the

libretto is very ingenious. There is no overture proper, but a fairly

long orchestral introduction opens the first act; it consists of very

furious storm music, with Prospero's principal theme hammered out on

the bass brass. As the curtain rises, Prospero and Miranda are

discovered watching the storm; the storm dies away, and Miranda, in a

very melodious passage, asks her father all about it, and what has

happened to the sailors and the ship which they have both seen in great

difficulties. In a very dignified quasi-recitative passage Prospero

tells her that the storm is of his own planning, and he then relates

much of the story of his life and wrongs.

Though long, the orchestral accompaniment to this is so interesting and

varied that no one could be bored by it. At the end Prospero puts

Miranda to sleep, and after a beautiful orchestral interlude summons

Ariel, who tells him in charming musical phrase what she has done with

ship and sailors, and then exits to a delicate orchestral {139} passage

for wood wind. Prospero awakes Miranda, and sends her into his cave;

then he calls for Caliban, who presently appears to a grotesque tune

played on the basses. To characteristic music he grumbles at his

perpetual labour, till Prospero, angry, sends him off. Ariel and a

spirit chorus now lure Alonzo and the rest, by their singing, to where

Prospero is, and totally bewilder them; a very beautiful _ensemble_

follows for chorus and principals, which finishes on the exit of all

except Prospero and Miranda. Ariel returns bringing Ferdinand, whom

Miranda recognises as the being she had seen in her dream. Ariel sings

a very pretty adaptation of "Full fathom five," and the two

lovers-to-be make friends, Prospero looking on unseen. Suddenly

Prospero breaks in upon them very angrily, and displays to Ferdinand

some of his miraculous powers, causing lightning and thunder, and

finally paralysing him.

This is all done to a most effective and appropriate setting, and the

curtain falls on the first act to a fine dramatic situation, much

heightened by excellent music.

The second act opens with a fairly long orchestral prelude; it is on a

dominant pedal, fifty-five bars in length, and depicts the depths of a

tropical forest. Ferdinand sings, and is presently joined by Miranda.

Now we have a really amusing comedy scene for Trinculo, Stephano, and

Caliban, the last-named having an excellent grotesque song, in which

the others join. The drinking scene is very well set to music, the

part of Caliban being strongly marked and individual.

Ariel breaks in on this festive scene with her spirit chorus, and the

comedians exit. Gonzalo and the other nobles enter, and, as in the

play, spirits bring mysterious food and drink, and strange music is

everywhere heard. All this is capitally done. Ariel, in a dramatic

manner, denounces them all as "men of sin." Prospero then enters, to a

fine _maestoso_ bass movement, explaining everything; and the act

finishes with a solemn march, to which all the spirits of Earth, Air,

Fire, and Water enter and do homage to Prospero.

{140}

The last act opens with a long prelude signifying Prospero's magic

powers. Sometimes we get charming light Ariel music, sometimes music

suggesting a deeper, more awful, kind of magic, and sometimes a

grotesquely comic dance rhythm, which is, nevertheless, almost sad,

suggesting poor Caliban. It is altogether a most interesting prelude,

and would make an excellent concert number by itself. The curtain

rises on Prospero's cave to mysterious sounds; alchemical instruments

are scattered about, and great books in ancient bindings lie on the

table. Prospero and Ariel are discovered. The Spirit tells him that

Caliban and his friends are going to kill him in his sleep. Ferdinand

and Miranda enter hand in hand, and Prospero summons the Spirits, who

sing sweetly to the lovers. Presently Caliban and his friends enter,

and Ariel and the other spirits chase them away jeeringly. Ariel

claims liberty; and, to sonorous music, Prospero renounces his magic

arts. With a great musical noise his cave disappears, and the scene

changes to the landscape of the first act. In the rocky cove Alonzo's

ship is ready to sail; Prospero calls on Ariel for the last time; and,

to solemn tones, all the mortals enter from different parts of the

stage. The end is now very near. Ariel is set free; Prospero promises

all a comfortable, safe voyage; the sailors sing of the joys of home

life; and the curtain falls to the Spirits singing of their new

freedom. The Caliban and Spirit music is the best part of the opera.

All the mysterious magical effects are most impressively done, but the

composer is not so happy with his lovers. The orchestral interludes

are excellent, and the many choruses of unseen Spirits are most

melodious, and not too difficult.

+Alfred M. Hale+, a very progressive young composer, has written an

opera on this subject, parts of which were performed at the Queen's

Hall on February 28, 1912. Among the numbers given was a duet for

Miranda and Ferdinand. A well-known musical critic writes as follows

concerning this number: "Mr Hale has written vocal parts {141} in the

style of an intoned conversation; no really vocal phrases are apparent,

but the text is moaned to a vague backing of orchestral activity.

Occasionally one heard snatches of _Tristan_ or _Pelleas_. All is

vast, vague, and vacuous. Mr Hale's orchestra breathes with its mouth

wide open." So we will leave it at that.

+Sullivan's+ _Tempest_ contains some of his finest music. Composed at

Leipsic when he was Mendelssohn Scholar, it has all the freshness of

youth and none of its immaturity. It was first performed at the

Crystal Palace, June 8, 1862, and was enthusiastically received,

Charles Dickens complimenting the young composer very highly. Though

not written expressly for the theatre, the music can be used almost as

it stands; but I have never heard it without additional numbers. When

it was adopted for Henrietta Hodson's production, Sullivan's "Where the

bee sucks" was cut out and Arne's substituted. Arne's setting is his

best work, and, in my opinion, the most beautiful of all the versions

extant; but Sullivan's is fine too, and the former did not blend with

the rest of the score but stood out and spoilt the whole musical scheme.

+Taubert+ wrote capital incidental music for this play, but I have

never heard it without additional numbers. Sir Frank Benson used a

great deal of this setting in his production of _The Tempest_, but he

made use of much other music as well. In his version the play began

with a "Storm Chorus" by Haydn, supposed to have been inspired by his

first (a bad) crossing to England; at least, this was the tradition in

the Benson company. Then he went on to Taubert for "Come unto these

yellow sands" and "Full fathom five," both very pretty arrangements for

Ariel (soprano) and chorus; back to Arne for "Where the bee sucks," and

to Sullivan for "Honour, riches." A song for Ariel, "Oh, bid thy

faithful Ariel fly," by T. Linley, was interpolated, the words not even

by Shakespeare. For the closing scenes, Sir Frank returned to {142}

Taubert; and if the whole affair was a hotchpotch, it was a very

agreeable one.

The last, and quite the most important, music written for _The Tempest_

since Sullivan's time is Humperdinck's. +Engelbert Humperdinck+ is

well known in England as the composer of the opera _Haensel und Gretel_,

the scores of _Koenigskinder_ and _The Miracle_, but few English people

know his Shakespearian works. His music to _The Tempest_ was first

heard at a great production of the play in Berlin at the Neue

Schauspielhaus on October 25, 1906. It consists of a long prelude,

running into storm melodrama music for the whole of the first scene,

calming down beautifully for Miranda's first entrance. All the lyrics

and choruses are set, and in all there are eighteen important numbers.

The music is difficult, and the chorus and orchestra must be on a large

scale; but it would make a very interesting production if it could be

done exactly as the composer devised it, with no added numbers, extra

lyrics, or pseudo-Elizabethan bilge. Here are ninety pages of closely

printed pianoforte score; enough, surely, for the most old-fashioned

producer without additional numbers. Very effective use is made of the

male and female chorus, singing _bouche fermee_ instead of the

orchestra playing, as melodrama music. Ariel's "Where the bee sucks"

is a charming setting, and the choruses and dances are most carefully

and reverentially done. There is no German equivalent to Shadwell,

Davenant, or Dryden. Here we have nothing but the exact text of

Shakespeare, and really it seems quite enough. The Prospero _motif_, a

fanfare, occurring frequently, holds the entire work together, and the

magic music would be a great help to any Shakespeare production. I

hope one day to see a straight production of this play with the music

as composed.

+Berlioz+ was early attracted to _The Tempest_, and even called one of

the ladies he adored--Miss Moke, subsequently {143} Mme. Pleyel--Ariel.

At the end of 1828, after the failure at rehearsal of the Symphonie

Fantastique, he was asked to write something for Girard, conductor of

the Theatre Italien. He then composed his Fantasia with choruses on

_The Tempest_, but Girard at once saw it was too big for his theatre

and could only be done at the Opera. There was to be a concert for the

Artists' Benevolent Fund, and the work was accepted for performance by

the director of the Academy, M. Loubbert, of whose care and kindness

during the production Berlioz speaks most highly. He quotes

Shakespeare about him (he often quoted Shakespeare), saying to a

friend, "He was a man, Horatio." I cannot do better than transcribe

the composer's interesting account of the first performance, taken from

his _Autobiography_: "All went splendidly at rehearsal; everything

seemed to smile, when, with my usual luck, an hour before the concert,

there broke over Paris the worst storm that had been known for fifty

years. The streets were flooded, practically impassable, and for the

first half of the concert when my _Tempest_, damned _Tempest_, was

being played, there were not more than three hundred people in the

place." Just Berlioz's luck! Something nearly always went wrong with

his work in Paris. In London, Petrograd, Berlin, anywhere else, he was

immensely successful, but in Paris never quite a success, even at the

height of his fame. The second performance, the following year, was

much less unfortunate. Of the work itself Berlioz writes: "It is new,

fresh, grand, sweet, tender, surprising."

It is a pity composers do not tell us more often what they think of

their own works. I mean in autobiographies and signed articles, of

course; not, as has sometimes happened, in inspired articles written by

their friends, or in anonymous ones written by themselves.

To come to the work itself, Berlioz incorporated it in his _Lelio_, or

_The Return to Life_ (lyric melodrama). This is one of the most

extraordinary hotchpotches in all music. It begins with a ballad by

Goethe, then there is a long apostrophe to Shakespeare, then a

brigand's song and {144} chorus, then a song of bliss; finally, the

composer, Lelio or Berlioz, decides to write a fantasia on _The

Tempest_, and calls on Shakespeare to stand by him. The orchestra and

chorus then perform the fantasia. It is scored for full orchestra, but

also for two pianos _a quatre mains_. The first number is a chorus of

air spirits, soprani, alti, and tenori--1 and 2 calling on Miranda to

come to her destined husband. (This is a rough translation.) After

this comes a long orchestral interlude with a great _crescendo_ and

_diminuendo_, returning again to the Miranda chorus. The next is also

a long orchestral interlude, introducing Caliban. The chorus shout

_fortissimo_ at him, calling him "Orrido monstro," which, I believe,

means "horrid monster." After another long orchestral bit, the chorus

again begins about Miranda, and sings a farewell chant to her as she is

leaving the island. The coda is marked _piu animato confuoco_, and

keeps up _animato_ to the end. Whether it is supposed to show general

relief on the part of the inhabitants of the island on the departure of

Prospero and the rest of the mortals, or sorrow for the same reason, I

do not profess to know. Lelio (Berlioz) says a few words to the

performers, finishing, "You have indeed made progress, so much so that

we may henceforth attempt works of greater depth than this feeble

sketch." But this "feeble sketch" makes a very difficult work to

tackle; and if Berlioz had developed it, Heaven only knows where we

should end!

_La Tempete, Fantaisie pour orchestre_ by +P. Tschaikowsky+, is a very

long and complicated symphonic poem, with a definite programme. It

really tells a good deal of the story of Shakespeare's play-poem. It

opens with "The Sea." After a few preliminary bars for wind, the

strings _pianissimo_, and very much divided, play without any change of

expression for fifty-three bars, and for the same number of bars the

bass is F, with occasional changes to F sharp. It is a wonderful tone

picture of a calm sea. Then comes Ariel, very light and feathery,

presently ordered to bring about a great storm: and it comes--quite one

of the most terrific {145} in all music. The storm having calmed down,

we get the love-music of Ferdinand and Miranda--very timid music, but

finally swelling up to a fine _forte_ effect; however, before this

happens there is an amusing dialogue (if one may use the word) between

Ariel and Caliban. To most impressive music, Prospero surrenders his

magic powers, and the mortals quit the island. The sea music starts

again just as in the opening, and the work ends on a perfectly calm sea

even as it began. It is, of course, as with all the composer's greater

works, very difficult, and scored for a large orchestra; but its

effects are certain, and it is grateful to conduct or play. The storm

is undoubtedly one of the most graphic imitations of Nature in all

musical art.

+Frederick Corder's+ Concert Overture "Prospero" is a very good example

of the composer's work. It was produced in 1885, and the _motto_ is

from _The Tempest_, Act iii., Scene 3: "What harmony is this? My good

friends, hark!"

It opens with a _forte_ theme for trombones and tuba, obviously

Prospero himself; followed by flute solo, again obviously Ariel,

accompanied by _pianissimo_ violin (very high sustained chords) and

harp. These two subjects hold a sort of dialogue in which Prospero has

the last word till the _Allegro con fuoco_ commences.

This theme is a very high, swift, semiquaver passage for violins, with

some occasional help from the wood wind. It leads to a subject for

'cello of quite a melodic, easy-going character, which might easily be

Ferdinand, and, as the first violins join in, Miranda. Then enters

Prospero with his trombones against this sweetness, and the drama of

the overture begins--Prospero drowns his books, Ariel is heard singing

joyfully, but somewhat sadly, and, in the end, the spirits of the

island, free at last, are heard in a great rejoicing.

I wish Mr Corder had written even the vaguest programme for this

overture. I have tried to write one, but I may be wrong the whole

time; anyway, I have done my best, and {146} can heartily express my

great admiration for the overture and the attitude it takes according

to my reading of the play.

Mr Corder has also set "Come unto these yellow sands" and "Full fathom

five" for soprano and female chorus, with harps for the first number,

and contralto and orchestra for the second; both are melodious and

effective, though there is much repetition of the words.

+J. F. Duggan+, born 1847, died 1894, whose name does not appear in any

musical biographical dictionary that I can find, has done a couple of

interesting settings of songs for Caliban. The first, curiously

enough, is for a tenor: I have often thought of Caliban musically, but

never as a tenor; still, here it is. The words begin, "No more dams

I'll make for fish," and the setting is quite appropriately grotesque.

The second is elaborate. It was first sung by Sir Charles Santley, to

whom it was dedicated, and is for high baritone. The words begin, "Art

thou afeared?" and the music is quite decorative in its harmonic

progressions, and gives points quite excellently to the curious lines

in which Caliban describes the musical wonders of the island to

Trinculo and Stephano, while Ariel plays on his tabor and pipe. This

song was published in 1871, and that is the only further biographical

detail I can give.

+Clarence Lucas+, a Canadian composer (b. 1866), has written a very

brilliant Scherzo for piano solo, entitled "Ariel." He has taken as

his motto Shakespeare's words, "On the bat's back I do fly," and has

certainly illustrated the familiar passage with great dexterity. It is

a gossamer piece of work, and, though difficult, is highly effective.

It bears strong traces of the composer's years of study at the Paris

Conservatoire.

+Joseph Spaight+, a clever young English composer, has written a string

quartet called "Ariel," which is really very interesting. The work is

divided into eight sections, {147} each one expressing some Ariel

episode in the play. The episodes are described in a few words, such

as "On a ship in a storm," "Invisible," "Playing time on tabor and pipe

and leading Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo away." They are highly

descriptive, but one may well question whether the string quartet is

the proper vehicle for such programme music.

{148}