all time, was that of Christopher Willibald von Gluck (1714-1785). By
the middle of the eighteenth century the influence of the Italian
composers, helped out by the superficial German composers, such as
Graun and Hasse, had reduced the Italian opera to a collection of mere
showpieces of singing, the arias having indeed an excuse in the story,
but the action of the drama had been lost entirely, owing to the long
stretches of time needed for these elaborate arias and the recalls to
which they inevitably gave rise. During these pauses the action ceased
entirely, as we see at the present day in many Italian operas still
current--as in the "mad scene" from "_Lucia_," for instance. In that
scene where everything ought to be wild excitement, the chorus
singers, representing the relatives and friends of poor Lucia, stand
around while she sings long cadenzas with the flute, in such trying
relationships as would test the vocal technique of a sane person. In
the time of Gluck this abuse had reached about the same height, and to
make the matter less bearable, the Italian composers had not yet
attained the art of expressing sentiment simply and directly, but were
intent upon sweet-sounding trivialities calculated to please the
groundlings, but of little or no relation to the drama. Gluck sought
to restore the ideal of the original inventors of opera, with such
unconscious modification as had been made meanwhile. But before
undertaking this he had to undergo the usual long and severe
apprenticeship of reformers. In his time the rules for a composer had
become well settled, every personage must have his or her aria
immediately upon their first entrance. The character of the arias had
been well settled. There was the _aria cantabile_, a flowing melody,
very lightly accompanied, affording opportunity for embellishments;
the _aria di portamento_, introducing long swelling notes, affording
the singer opportunity for illustrating his length of breath and
sustaining power. And so on with several other forms of aria. The
part of hero, whether male or female, was assigned to a man, an
artificial soprano, although it might be a hero--like Hercules, for
example. The subject had to be classical, and the _dénouement_ happy.
There were invariably six principal characters, three men and three
women. The first woman was always a high soprano; the second or third
a contralto; the first man, always the hero of the piece, an
artificial soprano. The second man might be an artificial soprano or a
contralto. The third man might be a bass or tenor. But it was not at
all unusual to confide all the male parts to artificial sopranos. Each
principal character claimed the right to sing an aria in each of the
three acts of the drama. Each scene ended with an aria of some one of
the classes already mentioned, but no two arias of the same class were
permitted to follow each other. Gluck was the reformer destined by the
fates to rectify some of these artificial traditions. He was educated
at the Jesuit seminary in Komotow, and later in Prague. He was engaged
in the musical forces of Prince Melzi, who took him to Italy, where he
became a pupil of the famous Italian composer and teacher, Sammartini.
To this fact, no doubt, is due his early attachment to the Italian
opera.
Here he wrote several operas, all more or less in the Italian style as
he had been taught it, and as he heard it upon every hand. His first
work, "_Artaserse_," the book by Metastasio, was produced with such
success in Milan, in 1741, that he presently wrote several others for
other Italian theaters. For Venice in 1741, "_Demetrio_," and
"_Ipermestra_"; for Cremona, "_Artamene_" (1743); for Turin,
"_Alessandro nelle Indie_" (1745); for Milan, "_Demofoonte_,"
"_Siface_" and "_Fedra_" (1742-1744); in all, eight operas in five
years. None of these works in their complete form are now in
existence; fragments alone have been preserved. If any inference is
justified from these extracts the style throughout was that of the
Italian opera of the day.
The fame of Gluck had now extended to England, and in 1745 he was
invited to London to compose operas for the Haymarket theater. He came
and wrote the year following (1746) "_La Caduta de Giganti_," after
which he produced the Cremona opera. Händel assisted at the production
of these two operas, and is reported to have said that the author knew
no more of counterpoint than a pig. Naumann thinks that Gluck learned
much from hearing Händel's oratorios in England, and that his
subsequent deeper and nobler dramatic style was formed upon these
great models. The two operas produced in London made but a moderate
success, and Gluck was commissioned to write a "_pasticcio_" or medley
of styles. He did so, imitating all styles according to the best of
his ability, but it made no better effect than the works before it.
This was the turning point in his career. The failure mortified him
deeply, and led him to reflect concerning the nature of dramatic
music. On his way back to Vienna he passed through Paris, where he
heard certain operas of Rameau, which also influenced his style later.
The declamation and the dramatic treatment of the recitative were the
points upon which his attention principally dwelt. Upon reaching
Vienna he wrote a number of instrumental pieces, bearing the name of
symphonies, pieces which in no way differed from the conventional
music of the day. The Haydn symphony had not yet been invented, and
the form was wholly indeterminate. There was an opera in this year;
also a love affair. Gluck was deeply in love with the beautiful and
charming daughter of a rich merchant, who upon no account would
consent to her marriage with a musician. So Gluck went back to Italy,
and there he wrote another opera, rather better in quality than his
previous ones. Early in 1750 the inexorable parent died, and late in
the year Gluck married the woman of his choice, who made him a model
wife, being educated above the average of her times, and entering into
his ideals and aspirations with ever ready sympathy. Her wealth also
placed the composer in an easy position as regarded the world, and
permitted him to devote himself to study. For nearly ten years
following Gluck produced occasionally an opera, but as yet the _man_
had not arrived; all these were early and apprentice works. At length
in 1762 was produced his first master work, "Orpheus and Eurydice,"
the libretto having been written by the imperial councillor Calzabigi.
The novelty of this great work was not above the appreciation of the
Viennese public of the day. "Orpheus" made a decided success. Its
principal innovations consisted in its more powerful instrumentation,
the introduction of a chorus having an integral part in the movement
of the piece, and in the highly dramatic treatment of the second act,
where Orpheus descends into the lower world to seek his lost love.
Nevertheless, the composer had not reached true self-consciousness. A
retrogression followed. He went back to Metastasio, and in conjunction
with him produced three or four small operas, all in his earlier
style. But in 1767 he returned to Calzabigi, and upon a libretto of
his wrote "_Alceste_" which was produced at the Vienna opera house in
1767 with vastly more success than "Orpheus." The story is that of the
tragedy of Euripides, and the music is exclusively severe and tragic.
The public was divided concerning the merit of the new work. Already
the notion of a music of the future had been conceived, and the notion
suggested that only in a more self-forgetful future would a work of
such severity and of such lofty aim find acceptance.
In the dedicatory epistle to the duke of Tuscany, prefixed to the
score, Gluck defines his intentions. He says: "I seek to put music to
its true purpose; that is, to support the poem, and thus to strengthen
the expression of the feelings and the interest of the situation,
without interrupting the action. I have therefore refrained from
interrupting the actor in the fervor of his dialogue by introducing
the accustomed tedious _ritournelle_; nor have I broken his phrase at
an opportune vowel that the flexibility of his voice might be
exhibited in a lengthy flourish; nor have I written phrases for the
orchestra to afford the singer opportunity to take a long breath
preparatory to the accepted flourish; nor have I dared to hurry over
the second part of an aria, when such contained the passion and the
most important matter, to find myself in accord with the conventional
repeat of the same phrase four times. As little have I permitted
myself to close an aria where the sense was incomplete, solely to
afford the singer an opportunity of introducing a cadenza. In short, I
have striven to abolish all these bad habits, against which sound
reasoning and true taste have been struggling now for so long in
vain."
There were several numbers in "_Alceste_" which exercised an influence
upon subsequent composers, among the more notable being the speech of
the oracle, which Mozart must have had in mind in writing the
commandatore's reply to Don Giovanni; and the sacrificial march,
which probably influenced the priests' march in the "Magic Flute."
Gluck was forty-eight when he wrote "Orpheus," and fifty-three when
"_Alceste_" appeared.
Galled by the criticisms of his countrymen, and encouraged by the
friendship of the French ambassador, Gluck now went to Paris, where
his operas were presently brought out, but with the same varying favor
as at home. Marie Antoinette, who had been his pupil, befriended him
and granted him a pension of 6,000 francs. Thus supported, he brought
out still another grand opera in the French language, "_Iphigenie en
Aulide_," produced at Paris in 1774. In this work classical severity
was scrupulously observed, and the opera is full of telling points of
dramatic musical coloration. In "_Armide_," 1777, he endeavored to
show that he was equally at home in richly conceived sensuous music,
and succeeded so well that the famous controversy was precipitated
with the Italian composer, Piccini, who had just arrived in Paris,
preparatory to bringing out his opera of "Roland." Volumes were
written in praise of Italian music, and in disparagement of the
roughnesses of that of Gluck. On the other hand, the friends of Gluck
stood up for him manfully, and the contest raged fiercely--with the
usual result of thoroughly advertising the music of both. Gluck's last
opera for Paris was "_Iphigenie en Tauride_," 1779, the same subject
already having been treated by his rival Piccini. The superiority of
Gluck's was incontestable. He died at Vienna, of apoplexy, November
15, 1787.
Gluck's place in art has been well summed up by Padre Martini, and the
opinion is all the more worthy of attention from the general charge of
Gluck's enemies that his music had overturned the traditions of pure
Italian art. He says: "All the finest qualities of Italian, and many
of those of French music, with the great beauties of the German
orchestra, are united in his work." This is tantamount to crediting
Gluck with having created a cosmopolitan music--which is precisely the
position which posterity has assigned him. For the time when he wrote,
his music is wonderfully fine. It still retains its vitality, as has
been vividly shown in several revivals of his "Orpheus" within recent
years, in two of which (in America and in Italy) the American prima
donna, Mme. Helène Hastreiter, has nobly distinguished herself.
The third force alluded to at the outset of the chapter, as having
been mainly influential in German opera during the eighteenth century
(and until our own time, it might be added), was Mozart, whose works
have already received attention in former pages of the narrative. It
must suffice here to remind the reader of the successes and qualities
of his operas, in order that he may be remembered in this connection;
for, like Gluck, his art was cosmopolitan, having in it the sweetness
of the Italian, the richness of the German, and occasional traces of
the declamation of the French.
II.
After Lulli, the next great name in the history of French opera was
that of Jean Philippe Rameau (1683-1765). This great master was one of
the most versatile men of whom we have a record in music. He was a
mathematician, physicist, a profound theorist, and a virtuoso upon the
piano and harpsichord. He is one of the four great names in music of
the period of Bach and Händel, the fourth being Scarlatti. His
education in music began while he was very young, and it is said of
him that such was his talent that he could improvise a fugue upon any
theme assigned, when he was but fourteen years of age. His father
wished him to be trained for the law, but music had greater charms for
him, and the margins of his books were marked over with crotchets and
quavers. Having become desperately in love with a fascinating young
widow, whom his father was opposed to his marrying, he was sent at the
age of seventeen to Italy, ostensibly to study. He came, therefore, to
Milan about 1701, a few years before Händel came there. Italian music
was little to his taste. The dignified declamation of the Lulli operas
seemed to him better worthy the attention of men than the tunes of the
Italians. Accordingly he took service as a violinist with a traveling
operatic troupe, and in this capacity visited the south of France. In
Paris he became a pupil of the court organist Marchand, of whom we
hear again in connection with certain tests of proficiency with
Händel. Marchand was at first delighted with his new pupil, but
presently dropped him when he discovered how talented he was, and
liable to prove a dangerous rival. Accordingly he left Paris and took
service as organist at Lille, which post he exchanged afterward for
one at Clermont. In this quiet town he devoted himself to the study of
harmony, and to reflection upon the principles of music. He read here
the works of Zarlino, and other Italian theorists, and in 1721 he
returned to Paris and published his treatise on harmony, in which he
propounded the theory of inversions. His second treatise on harmony,
"New System of Musical Theory," was published in 1725. These works
excited a great deal of attention and brought the author renown, but
his soul yearned for recognition as composer, and in 1730 he obtained
from Voltaire a libretto, "Samson." This work was declined at the
national opera, on the ground that the public was not attracted by
Biblical subjects. Three years later, however, he composed another,
"_Hypolite et Arcie_," which was performed with moderate success. He
had now reached the age of fifty, and entered upon the second stage of
his artistic career, and the second period of the French opera. The
admirers of Rameau invited appreciation of the new works upon the
ground of their being better than those of Lulli, and all Paris was
divided into two opposite camps. Rameau is entitled to having
developed his operas more musically than those of Lulli, and the later
ones became still richer upon the orchestral side.
The entire list of operas by Rameau numbers about thirty. That they
did not preserve their popularity so long as those of Lulli is due to
their deficiency upon the dramatic side, especially to the inherent
inexpressiveness of the music itself. The treatment of the orchestra
is clever in many places, showing a manifest improvement over that of
Lulli, especially in the freedom of thematic work. He also ventures
occasionally on enharmonic changes.
Contemporaneous with him was that remarkable genius, Jean Jacques
Rousseau (1712-1778), the father of the kindergarten idea, and of many
other humanitarian and educational novelties. Rousseau's importance in
the history of music is not sufficient to justify an account of his
early days. With a great fondness for music, he found it extremely
difficult to read by note, as he was almost entirely self-taught. This
led him to devise a simpler notation, which he did about 1740,
publishing an account of it in 1743. His system was substantially
that of the tonic sol fa, except that he used figures in place of
letters. He presented a memorial to the Academy of Sciences upon this
subject in 1742, but his plan was so vigorously opposed by Rameau that
nothing came of it; nevertheless the idea was afterward worked out by
M. Paris, in the present century, and has proven very useful among the
_Orphéonistes_. In 1752 Rameau produced his first opera "_Le Devin du
Village_," a very light affair, somewhat on the order of what Germans
call a Singspiel. The most remarkable piece that he produced was his
comedy "_Pygmalion_" in 1775. There is no song in this opera. The only
music in it is that for orchestral interludes in the intervals between
the phrases of declamation.
The continuation of French opera was due to Philidor, the celebrated
chess player (1726-1795). He was very talented in many directions, and
from the production of his first opera in 1759, to his last,
_Bélisaire_, finished by his friend Berton, and produced in 1796, he
enjoyed an uninterrupted popularity, having brought out in that time
about twenty-one operas, some of them comic, one or two of them
serious. His music is light and pleasing, and he is credited with
having been the first to produce descriptive airs ("_Le Maréchal_")
and the unaccompanied quartette ("Tom Jones," 1764). The great merit
of his works was their clever construction for the stage.
Contemporaneous with him was Pierre Alexander Monsigny (1729-1817).
Not having been intended for the profession of music, he had a
classical education, and upon the death of his father obtained a
clerkship in Paris. He belonged to a noble family, and at first
pursued music as a recreation. His first opera was produced after
five months' tuition in harmony and theory, in 1759; this was followed
by about thirty other works. His greatest skill was melody and ease of
treatment. In 1812 he was appointed inspector of the Conservatory, and
in 1813 he succeeded Grétry in the Institute, and in 1816 he received
the cross of the Legion of Honor.
[Illustration: Fig. 61.
GRÉTRY.]
Upon the appearance of André Ernest Modest Grétry, (1741-1813), we
come to a real genius, although not of the first order. He was the son
of a poor violinist of Liege, Belgium, and when about sixteen years of
age he composed six small symphonies and a mass. The latter gained him
the protection of the canon of the cathedral who sent him to Rome,
where he pursued his studies with very little credit. After producing
one small work in Rome, he made his way to Paris, and his first opera,
"_Le Huron_," was successfully produced in 1768. This was followed by
more than fifty operas of all sorts, some of which still survive.
Grétry was a very charming man, and wrote upon music and other
subjects in a pleasing manner. His importance in the history of music
is due more to the number of works by him, than to their striking
musical qualities.
Another remarkable musician of this period in France was François
Joseph Gossec (1733-1829), who also was a Belgian from Hainault. His
early training was obtained in the cathedral at Antwerp. He came to
Paris in 1751 and became a pupil of Rameau. He conceived the idea of
writing orchestral symphonies, and produced some pieces of this kind
in 1754, five years before the date of Haydn's first. In 1759 he
published some quartettes. In 1760 he produced his best, "_Messe des
Morts_," in which he made a sensation by writing the "_Tuba Mirum_"
for two orchestras, one of wind instruments concealed outside. Berlioz
probably derived an idea from this. He wrote twelve operas which were
successfully produced, twenty-six symphonies and a variety of other
works. He founded his amateur concerts in 1770, and his sacred
concerts in 1773. In 1784 he organized his school of singing, out of
which the Conservatory of Music was afterward developed. Upon the
foundation of the conservatory, in 1795, he was appointed inspector
with Cherubini and Méhul. His influence upon the general development
of music is local to Paris, where he did more to enrich opera on the
instrumental side than any other composer of the eighteenth century.
Étienne Henri Méhul (1763-1817) was another of these prolific
composers of light operas. Son of a cook at Givet, he had passion for
music, and soon became a good organist. At fourteen he was deputy
organist, and in 1778 he arrived in Paris and at once commenced to
study and teach. The next year he was so fortunate as to listen to
Gluck's "_Iphigenie en Tauride_," which made a great impression upon
him. He called upon Gluck himself in order to express his admiration,
and, in consequence of the encouragement received from the eminent
composer, he proceeded to write three operas, one after another, which
are now lost. His fourth was accepted at the Academy, but not
performed. Finally his "_Euphrosine et Coradin_" was produced at the
Opéra Comique in 1790. The public immediately recognized a force, a
sincerity of accent, a dramatic truth, and a gift of accurately
expressing the meaning of words, which always remained the main
characteristics of Méhul. Within the next seventeen years he produced
twenty-four operas, besides a large number of cantatas and other
works. Upon the whole, this sincere master must be regarded as one of
the most eminent in the history of French opera.
Somewhat later in the operatic field was Jean François Lesueur
(1763-1837). After serving as a boy chorister at Abbeville and Amiens,
he came to Paris, where in 1786 he was appointed musical director at
Notre Dame, and distinguished himself by giving magnificent
performances of motettes and solemn masses, with a large orchestra in
addition to the usual forces. His first opera, "_La Caverne_," was
produced in 1793, after which he wrote four others, as well as three
which were never performed. In the line of church music he was much
more productive, and one might say, more at home. His music is marked
by grand simplicity. As a teacher in later life he was very
celebrated, among his pupils being the greatest of French masters,
Berlioz.
[Illustration: Fig. 62.
BOIELDIEU.]
The most gifted of the French composers of light opera at the end of
the eighteenth century, and in the part of the nineteenth, was
François Adrien Boieldieu (1775-1834). This talented musician was born
at Rouen, where his father was secretary to the archbishop. The boy
was educated in the ecclesiastical schools, having begun as a choir
boy in the cathedral. His first little work for the stage was
performed at Rouen when he was about seventeen, "_La Fille Coupable_,"
with such success that the author was encouraged to go and seek his
fortune in Paris. Here for a long time he met with little
encouragement, and was obliged to make a living at first as a piano
tuner; later he was fortunate enough to have certain romances of his
sung by popular singers, and thus his name became somewhat known. For
these songs he received the munificent compensation of two dollars and
a half each. Presently he secured a libretto, "_La Dot de Suzette_,"
which was composed and performed at the Opéra Comique, with so much
encouragement, that he soon after produced his one-act opera, "_La
Famille Suisse_." His popularity was not fully established, however,
until "_Zoraime et Zulnare_" in 1798. This work possesses a vein of
tenderness, a refined orchestration, and singularly clear and pleasing
forms. In 1800 his world-wide favorite, "_Le Caliph de Bagdad_," was
produced, and its taking overture was played from one end of Europe to
the other, upon all possible instruments and combinations of them. His
other two successful operas were "_Jean de Paris_" (1812), and "_La
Dame Blanche_" (1825). Both these made as much reputation outside of
France as in it, and are still produced in Germany. In 1803 Boieldieu
received an appointment in St. Petersburg and lived there six years,
but he returned to Paris later, and in 1817 became Méhul's successor
as teacher of composition at the Conservatory.
Of the French stage during this epoch it is to be observed that
nothing of a large and serious character was produced upon it, except
the operas of Gluck, which of course were not indigenous to France.
What progress was made by the composers before mentioned, and others
of less importance, consisted in acquiring fluency, ease and effective
construction. The ground had been prepared from which the century
following would reap a harvest.
III.
In Italy during the eighteenth century, opera continued to be
cultivated by a succession of gifted and prolific composers. At the
beginning of the century, the great Alexander Scarlatti was at the
height of his career, as also were Lotti and the younger masters
mentioned in the former chapter. All these composers followed in the
style established by Scarlatti and Porpora. The most talented of the
Italians of this period was Giovanni Batista Pergolesi (1710-1737).
This gifted genius was born at Jesin, in the Roman states, but when a
mere child, was admitted to the conservatory "Of the Poor in Jesus
Christ" at Naples, where his education was completed. He commenced as
a violin player, and attracted attention while a mere child by his
original passages, chromatics, new harmonies and modulations. A report
of his performances of this kind being made to his teacher Matteis, he
desired to hear them for himself, which he did with much surprise, and
asked the boy whether he could write them down. The next day the
youngster presented himself with a sonata for the violin, as a
specimen of his power; this led to his receiving regular instruction
in counterpoint. The first composition of his was a sacred drama
called "_La Conversione di St. Guglielmo_," written while he was still
a student. It was performed with comic intermezzi (_sic!_) in the
summer of 1731, at the cloister of St. Agnello. The dramatic element
in this work is very pronounced, and the violin is treated with
considerable feeling. His first opera, "_La Salustia_," was produced
in 1731. It is notable for improvement in the orchestration. In the
winter of this same year he wrote his comic intermezzo, "_La Serva
Padrona_," a sprightly operetta, which had a moderate success at the
time, but afterward for nearly a hundred years was played in all parts
of Europe. He wrote several other operas, which had but moderate
success, although many of them were performed with considerable
applause after his death. By general consent the most beautiful work
of Pergolesi was his "_Stabat Mater_," which was written to order for
a religious confraternity, for use on Good Friday, in place of a
"_Stabat_" by Scarlatti, the price paid being ten ducats--about nine
dollars. It is for two voices, a soprano and contralto, and is
excellently written. No sooner was he dead than his music immediately
became the object of admiration, his operas and lighter pieces being
played in all parts of Italy. He died at the age of twenty-six, being
the youngest master who has ever left a permanent impression in
musical history.
One of the most prolific composers of this period was Nicolo Jomelli
(1714-1774). Jomelli represents the Neapolitan school, having been
educated first at the conservatory of San Onofrio, and later at that
of "_La Pieta de' Turchini_." His earlier inclination was church
music, and in order to perfect himself in it he went to Rome. This was
in 1740, and two of his operas were there produced. He afterward
visited Vienna, where he produced several operas, and in 1749 he was
appointed assistant musical director at St. Peter's in Rome, a
position which he held for five years, after which he went to
Stuttgart, as musical director. While in Germany he had a very great
reputation as an opera composer. In 1770 Mozart wrote from Naples,
"The opera here is by Jomelli; it is beautiful, but the style is too
elevated as well as too antique for the theater." His later life was
spent in Naples. Besides many operas he wrote a number of
compositions for the church. It perhaps gives a good idea of the
estimation in which he was held while living, that a critic highly
esteemed in his day said that it would be a sorry day for the world
when the operas of Jomelli were forgotten, at the same time
pronouncing them superior to those of Mozart. Not a single line of
Jomelli is performed at the present time, nor is likely ever to be;
but the works of Mozart still retain their popularity.
Another prolific composer of the Neapolitan school was Antonio Maria
Gasparo Sacchini (1724-1786). This clever composer was very successful
in his lifetime, his operas being produced in all parts of Europe.
Nevertheless they are monotonous in character, and have little depth.
He has very little importance for the history of music. Still another,
also from the Neapolitan school, was Piccini (1728-1800). His first
operas were produced in 1754, and from that time on for about forty
years he was a very popular composer, his works being produced in
every theater, and in 1778 he was set up as an idol by his admirers,
in opposition to Gluck. He was highly honored by Napoleon, who took
pleasure in distinguishing him for the sake of humbling several much
more deserving musicians. The complete list of his works in Fétis
contains eighty operas. His biographer credits him with one hundred
and thirty-three. Yet another composer of the Neapolitan school was
Giovanni Paisiello (1741-1815). From the time of his first operas to
his death, he was highly esteemed as a composer. In 1776 he was
invited by the Empress Catharine to St. Petersburg, where he lived for
eight years, and among other operas which he composed while there was
"_Il Barbiere di Siviglia_." In 1799 he was called to Paris, where
Napoleon very greatly distinguished him. Upon leaving Paris, in 1803,
Napoleon desired him to name his successor, when he performed the
creditable act of nominating Lesueur, who was at that time unknown.
The list of his works embraces ninety-four operas and 103 masses. His
music was melodious and pleasing, but rather feeble; he is regarded,
however, as the inventor of the concerted finale, which has since been
so largely developed in opera. Perhaps the best of all the Neapolitan
composers of this half century was Zingarelli (1752-1827). Zingarelli
was not only a good musician and a good composer, but a man of ability
and principle. He was an associate pupil with Cimarosa. After leaving
the conservatory he took lessons upon the violin, and in 1779 produced
a cantata at the San Carlo theater. Two years later his first opera
was produced at the same theater with great applause, "_Montezuma_."
He then went to Milan, where most of his later works were produced. He
was an extremely rapid worker, his librettist stating it as a fact
that all the music of his successful opera of "_Alsinda_" was composed
in seven days, although the composer was in ill health at the time.
Another of his best works, his "_Giulietta e Romeo_," was composed in
about eight days. It is said that this astonishing facility was
acquired through the discipline of his teacher Speranza, who obliged
his pupils to write the same composition many times over, with change
of time and signature, but without any change in the fundamental
ideas. While busily engaged as a popular opera composer, Zingarelli
found time to compose much church music, his most important works
being masses and cantatas. Of the former there still exist a very
large number; of the latter about twenty. He made a trip to France in
1789, where he brought out a new opera, "_L'Antigone_"; he was
appointed musical director at the cathedral at Milan in 1792, and two
years later at Loretto, Naples. Thence he was transferred to the
Sistine chapel at Rome, and finally in 1813 he was appointed director
of the Royal College of Music at Naples, in which position he spent
the remainder of his long and active life.
He produced about thirty-two operas, twenty-one oratorios and
cantatas, and there are about 500 manuscripts of his in the "_Annuale
di Loreto_." As a composer of comic operas Zingarelli became popular
all over Europe, but he was nevertheless a serious, even a devout
composer. He was extremely abstemious, rose early, worked hard all
day, and, after a piece of bread and a glass of wine for supper,
retired early to rest. He was never married, but found his
satisfaction in the successes of his musical children, among whom were
Bellini, Mercadante, Ricci, Sir Michael Costa, Florimo, etc.
IV.
In this, as in the preceding century, there was very little activity
in England in the realm of opera music, beyond that of foreign
composers imported for special engagements. In the last part of the
seventeenth century, however, there was a real genius in English
music, who, if he had lived longer, would in all probability have made
a mark distinguishable even across the channel, and upon the chart of
the world's activity in music. That composer was Henry Purcell
(1658-1695), born in London, of a musical family. His father having
died while the boy was a mere infant, he was presently admitted as a
choir boy in the Chapel Royal, the musical director being Captain
Cook, and later Pelham Humpfrey. In 1675, when yet only seventeen
years of age, Purcell composed an opera, "Dido and Æneas," which is
grand opera in all respects, there being no spoken dialogue but
recitative--the first work of the kind in English. It contains some
very spirited numbers. After this he composed music to a large number
of dramatic pieces, many anthems, held the position of master of the
Chapel Royal, and in many ways occupied an honored and distinguished
position. He was one of the earliest composers to furnish music to
some of Shakespeare's plays, and his "Full Fathom Five" and "Come unto
These Yellow Sands," from the "Tempest," have held the stage until the
present time. He was in all respects the most vigorous and original of
English composers. He died in the fullness of his powers and was
buried in Westminster Abbey. The portrait here given was painted by
John Closterman, and originally engraved for his "_Orpheus
Britannicus_." It is impossible not to wonder whether the future of
English music might not have been better if the powerful figure of the
great master Händel had not dwarfed all native effort in Britain after
Purcell.
[Illustration: Fig. 63.
HENRY PURCELL.]
In the eighteenth century the most notable English composer was Dr.
Thomas Arne (1710-1778), who enjoyed a well deserved reputation as an
excellent dramatic composer, the author of many songs still reckoned
among English classics, and the composer of the national hymn "Rule
Britannia," which occurred as an incident in his masque of "Alfred,"
1740. Dr. Arne has all the characteristics of a genuine national
composer. His music was immediately popular, and held the stage for
many years. His first piece was Fielding's "Opera of Operas," produced
in 1733. The full list of his pieces reached upwards of forty-one
operas and plays to which he furnished the music, two oratorios,
"Abel" and "Judith," and a variety of occasional music. His style is
somewhat like that of Händel, a remark which was true of all English
composers for more than a hundred years after Händel's death; but it
is forcible, melodious and direct. His music was not known outside of
England.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XXX.
PIANO PLAYING AND VIRTUOSI; THE VIOLIN; TARTINI AND SPOHR.
I.
It was during the eighteenth century that the pianoforte definitely
established itself in the estimation of musicians, artists and the
common people, as the handiest and most useful of domestic and solo
instruments. The progress was very slow at first, the musicians such
as Bach, Händel, Scarlatti and Rameau, the four great virtuosi of the
beginning of this century, generally preferred the older forms of the
instrument, the clavier or the harpsichord, both on account of their
more agreeable touch and the sweetness of their tones. Nevertheless
the style of playing and of writing for these instruments underwent a
gradual change at the hands of these very masters, of such a character
that when the pianoforte became generally recognized as superior to
its predecessors, about the middle of the century, the compositions of
Bach and Scarlatti were found well adapted to the newer and more
powerful instrument. The pianoforte itself underwent several
modifications from the primitive forms of action devised by Cristofori
in 1711, rendering it more responsive to the touch. All this, relating
to the mechanical perfection of the instrument, although appropriate
in part to the present moment of the narrative, is deferred until a
later chapter, when the entire history of this instrument will be
considered in detail. From that it will be seen, by comparing dates,
that every important mechanical step in advance was followed by
immediate modifications of the style of writing and playing, whereby
the progress toward fullness and manifold suggestiveness of music for
this instrument has been steady and great.
The first of the great virtuosi was Domenico Scarlatti (1683-1757),
son of the great Alessandro Scarlatti, and a pupil of his father, and
of other masters whose names are now uncertain. He was a moderately
successful composer of operas and works for the Church, but his
distinguishing merit was that of a virtuoso upon the harpsichord--the
pianoforte of that time. He was the first of the writers upon the
harpsichord who introduced difficulties for the pleasure of overcoming
them, and who, in his own country, was without peer as performer until
Händel came there and surpassed him, in 1708. Scarlatti was also a
performer upon the organ, but upon this instrument he unhesitatingly
confessed Händel to be his superior. In 1715 Scarlatti succeeded Baj
as chapel master at St. Peter's in Rome, where he composed much church
music. His operas were successful in their own day, but were soon
forgotten. His pianoforte compositions still remain as a necessary
part of the education of the modern virtuoso. They are free in form,
brilliant in execution, and melodious after the Italian manner. Many
of them are still excessively difficult to play, in spite of the
progress in technique which has been made since.
There were many other composers in the early part of this century who
exercised a local and temporary influence in the direction of
popularizing the pianoforte and its music, through the attractiveness
of their own playing, as well as by the compositions they produced.
Among these must not be forgotten Mattheson, the Hamburgh composer of
operas (p. 242), who published many works for piano, including suites,
sonatas and other pieces in the free style. Johann Kuhnau (1667-1722),
predecessor of Bach as cantor at Leipsic, published a variety of
sonatas and other compositions in free style, about the beginning of
the eighteenth century. Of still greater importance than the last
named, was Rameau, the French theorist and operatic composer (p. 336).
His compositions were attractive and very original, and in addition to
the charm of his own playing, and that of his works, he placed later
musicians under lasting obligations by his treatise upon the art of
accompanying upon the clavecin and organ, in which his theories of
chords were applied to valuable practical use.
The work of all these and of many others who might be mentioned, not
forgetting several English writers, such as Dr. Blow, Dr. John Bull
and the gifted artist Purcell (see p. 350), must be regarded as merely
preparatory for the advance made during the last part of the
eighteenth century. It was Haydn who began to demand of the pianoforte
more of breadth, and a certain coloration of touch, which he must have
needed in his elaborative passages in the middle of the sonata piece.
This kind of free fantasia upon the leading motives of the work, was
planned after the style of thematic discussion of leading motives by
the orchestra, and the obvious cue of the player is to impart to the
different sequences and changes of the motives as characteristic
tone-colors as possible, for the sake of rendering them more
interesting to the hearers, and possibly of affording them more
expression. Haydn's work was followed by that of Mozart, who gave the
world the _adagio_ upon the piano. Then in the fullness of time came
Beethoven, who after all must be regarded as the great improver of
piano playing of this century, as well as that of the next following.
Beethoven improved the piano style in the surest and most influential
manner possible. In his own playing he was far in advance of the
virtuosi of the eighteenth century, and in his foresight of farther
possibilities in the direction of tone sustaining and coloration he
went still farther. This is seen in all his concertos, especially in
the fourth and fifth, in the piano trios, and the quartette; but still
more in the later pianoforte sonatas. Here the piano is treated with a
boldness, and at the same time a delicacy and poetic quality, which
taxes the greatest players of the present time to accomplish. The most
advanced virtuoso works of Chopin, Schumann and Liszt, the three great
masters of the pianoforte in the nineteenth century, are but slightly
beyond the demands of these later sonatas of the great Vienna master.
In the later part of the eighteenth century there were a number of
pianoforte virtuosi whose merits claim our attention at this point. At
the head, in point of time, was the great Italian master, Muzio
Clementi (1752-1832). Born at about the same time as Mozart, he
outlived Beethoven. His early studies were pursued at Rome with so
much enthusiasm that at the age of fourteen he had produced several
important compositions of a contrapuntal character. These being
successfully performed, attracted the attention of an English amateur
living in Rome, who offered to take charge of the boy, carry him to
England and see that his career was opened under favorable auspices.
Until 1770, therefore (the year of Beethoven's birth), Clementi
pursued his studies near London. Then, in the full force of his
remarkable virtuosity, he burst upon the town. He carried everything
before him, and had a most unprecedented success. His command of the
instrument surpassed everything previously seen. After three years as
cembalist and conductor at the Italian opera in London, he set out
upon a tour as virtuoso. In 1781 he appeared in Paris, and so on
toward Munich, Strassburg, and at length Vienna, where he met Haydn,
and where, at the instigation of the Emperor Joseph II, he had a sort
of musical contest with the young Mozart. Clementi, after a short
prelude, introduced his sonata in B flat, the opening motive of which
was afterward employed by Mozart in the introduction to the overture
to the "Magic Flute"; and followed it up with a toccata abounding in
runs in diatonic thirds and other doublestops for the right hand, at
that time esteemed very difficult. The victory was regarded as
doubtful, Mozart compensating for his less brilliant execution by his
beautiful singing touch, of which Clementi ever afterward spoke with
admiration. Moreover, from this meeting he himself endeavored to put
more music and less show into his own compositions. Clementi was soon
back in England, where he remained until 1802, when he took his
promising pupil, John Field, inventor of the nocturne, upon a tour of
Europe, as far as St. Petersburg, where they were received with
unbounded enthusiasm. In 1810 he returned to London and gave up
concert playing in public. He wrote symphonies for the London
Philharmonic Society, published very many sonatas for piano (about 100
in all), and in 1817 published his master work, a set of 100 studies
for the piano, in all styles, the "_Gradus ad Parnassum_," upon which
to a considerable extent the entire modern art of piano playing
depends. Clementi's idea in the work was to provide for the entire
training of the pupil by means of it; not alone upon the technical,
but upon the artistic side as well, and the majority of the pieces
have artistic purpose no less than technical. The wide range taken by
piano literature since Clementi's day, however, reduces the teacher to
the alternative of confining the pupil to the works of one writer, in
case the entire work is used, or of employing only the purely
technical part of the "_Gradus_," accomplishing the other side of the
development by means of compositions of more poetic and older masters.
The latter is the course now generally pursued by the great teachers,
and this was the reason influencing the selection of studies from the
"_Gradus_" made by the virtuoso, Tausig. Clementi's compositions
exercised considerable influence upon Beethoven, who esteemed his
sonatas better than those of Mozart. The opinion was undoubtedly based
upon the freedom with which Clementi treated the piano, as
distinguished from the gentle and somewhat tame manner of Mozart. The
element of manly strength was that which attracted Beethoven, himself
a virtuoso.
[Illustration: Fig. 64.
J.L. DUSSEK.]
Another of the first virtuosi to gain distinction upon the pianoforte,
in the latter part of this century and the first part of the
nineteenth, was J.L. Dussek (1761-1812). This highly gifted musician
was born in Czaslau, in Bohemia, and his early musical studies were
made upon the organ, upon which he early attained distinction, holding
one prominent position after another, his last being at Berg-op-Zoom.
He next went to Amsterdam, and presently after to the Hague, still
later, in 1788, to London, where he lived twelve years. It was there
that Haydn met him, and wrote to Dussek's father in high terms of his
son's talents and good qualities. Afterward he was back again upon the
continent, living for some years with Prince Louis Ferdinand, and
having right good times with him, both musically and festively. He
died in France. He made many concert tours in different periods of his
life, and his playing was highly esteemed from one end of Europe to
the other. A contemporary writer says of him: "As a virtuoso he is
unanimously placed in the very first rank. In rapidity and sureness of
execution, in a mastery of the greatest difficulties, it would be
hard to find a pianist who surpasses him; in neatness and precision of
execution, possibly _one_ (John Cramer, of London); in soul,
expression and delicacy, certainly _none_." The brilliant pianist and
teacher Tomaschek said of him: "There was, in fact, something magical
in the manner in which Dussek, with all his charming grace of manner,
through his wonderful touch, extorted from the instrument delicious
and at the same time emphatic tones. His fingers were like a company
of ten singers, endowed with equal executive powers, and able to
produce with the utmost perfection whatever their director could
require. I never saw the Prague public so enchanted as they were on
this occasion by Dussek's splendid playing. His fine declamatory
style, especially in _cantabile_ phrases, stands as the ideal for
every artistic performance--something which no other pianist since has
reached. He was the first of the virtuosi who placed the piano
sideways upon the platform, although the later ones may not have had
an interesting profile to exhibit."
The published works of this fine musician and creditable composer
number nearly 100, and the sonata cuts a leading figure among them. He
treated the piano with much more freedom and breadth than Mozart,
though this is not so much to his credit as if he had not lived many
years after Mozart died, his earliest compositions falling very near
the last years of that great genius. He was distinctly a virtuoso,
loving his instrument and its tonal powers. He was the first of all
the players whose public performances called attention to the
_quality_ of tone, and its _singing_ power. This also points not alone
to the fact of his career falling in with the increased powers of the
pianoforte, as a result of the inventions of Érard, Collard and
Broadwood, but is to his personal credit, since it was genius in him
enabling him to recognize these possibilities, at a time when most
players were still in ignorance of them. As a composer he wrote many
things of more than average excellence, and some of his lighter
compositions still have vitality. It is altogether likely that
Beethoven was influenced by Dussek's playing, in the direction of
tone-color. Indeed, the third sonata of Beethoven can hardly be
accounted for without recognizing Dussek as the composer upon some one
of whose works its general style and form were modeled.
Another pianist of considerable importance, a disciple of Mozart, yet
with originality of his own, was J.B. Cramer (1771-1858). This
talented and deserving musician was the son of a musician living at
Mannheim, who removed to London when the young Cramer was but one year
old. There the boy grew up, receiving his education from several
reputable masters, Clementi being among them. His taste was formed by
the diligent study of the works of Emanuel Bach, Haydn and Mozart. In
spirit Cramer was a disciple of the last named, but from living to a
good old age, he naturally surpassed his ideal in the treatment of the
pianoforte. In the latter part of the eighteenth century there were
few musical compositions sold over the music counters in Vienna and
the musical world generally, but those of Dussek, Cramer and Pleyel,
while those of Beethoven were comparatively neglected. Cramer's
compositions were slight in real merit, his fame resting upon his
studies for the piano, of which about thirty out of the entire 100 are
very good music. The second, and last, book of these were published
in 1810. They do not form a necessary part of the training of a
virtuoso, but they have decided merits, and are generally included to
this day in the list of pianistic indispensables. Cramer's style of
playing was quiet and elegant. Moscheles gives an idea of it in his
diary, and regrets that he should allow the snuff, which he took
incessantly, to get upon the keys. Cramer's studies preceded those of
Clementi, and very likely may have inspired them through a desire of
illustrating a bolder and more masterly style of pianism.
Among the many talented pupils of Clementi was Ludwig Berger
(1777-1838), of Berlin, whose unmistakable gifts for the piano
attracted the master's attention when he was in Berlin in 1802, and he
took him along with him to St. Petersburg. After living some years in
that city, and later in London, he returned to Berlin, where he was
held in the highest esteem as teacher until his death. Among the
distinguished who studied with him were Mendelssohn, Taubert, Henselt,
Fanny Hensel, Herzsberg, and others. He was an indefatigable composer
of decided originality. But few of his works were published. A set of
his studies is highly esteemed by many.
In further illustration of the Mozart principles of piano playing, and
with a reputation as composer, which in his lifetime was curiously
beyond his merits, was J.M. Hummel (1778-1837). He was born at
Presburg, and had the good luck to attract the favorable notice of
Mozart. He was received into the house of the master, and was regarded
as the best representative of Mozart's ideas. He made his early
appearances as a child pianist under the care of his father, in most
parts of Germany and Holland. In 1804 he succeeded Haydn as musical
director to the Esterhazy establishment. He afterward held several
other appointments of credit, and played much in all parts of Europe.
He was a pleasant player, with a light, smooth touch, suited to the
Viennese pianofortes of the time.
[Illustration: Fig. 65.
HUMMEL.]
The latest of the virtuosi representing the classical traditions of
the pianoforte, uninfluenced by the new methods which came in with
Thalberg and Liszt, was Ignaz Moscheles (1794-1870). He was born at
Prague, his father being a cloth merchant and Israelite.
[Illustration: Fig. 66.
MOSCHELES.]
He had the usual childhood of promising musicians, playing everything
he could lay his hands upon, including Beethoven's "_Sonata
Pathetique_," and at the age of seven he was taken to Dionys Weber,
whose verdict is worth remembering. He said: "Candidly speaking, the
boy is on the wrong road, for he makes hash of great works which he
does not understand, and to which he is entirely unequal. But he has
talent, and I could make something of him if you were to hand him over
to me for three years, and follow out my plan to the letter. The first
year he must play nothing but Mozart, the second Clementi, the third
Bach; but only that--not a note as yet of Beethoven, and if he
persists in using the circulating musical libraries, I have done with
him forever." Having completed his studies after this severe _régime_,
Moscheles began his concert appearances, which were everywhere
successful.
He continued his studies in Vienna with Salieri, and Beethoven thought
so well of him that he engaged him to make the pianoforte arrangement
of "_Fidelio_." This was in 1814.
In 1815 he produced his famous variations upon the Alexander march,
Opus 32, from which his reputation as virtuoso dates. His active
concert service began about 1820, and extended throughout Europe. In
1826 he settled in London, where he was held in the highest esteem,
both as man and musician. He became a fast friend of Mendelssohn, who
had been his pupil in Berlin, and in 1846 joined him at Leipsic, where
he continued until his death. Moscheles was originally a solid and
brilliant player. Later he became famous as one of the best living
representatives of the true style and interpretation of the Beethoven
sonatas. He never advanced beyond the Clementi principles of piano
playing, the works of Chopin and Liszt remaining sealed books to his
fingers, to the very last. As a teacher he was painstaking and
patient, and he was honored by all who knew him. All his life he kept
a diary, from which a very readable volume has been compiled, with
many glimpses of other eminent musicians. It is called "Recent Music
and Musicians."
II.
The art of violin playing also made great progress during this
century, its most eminent representative being Giuseppe Tartini
(1692-1770). He was born in Pirano, in Istria, and was intended for
the church, but upon coming of age he fell in love with a lady
somewhat above him in rank, and was secretly married to her. When this
fact was discovered by her relatives he was obliged to fly, and having
taken refuge in a monastery he remained there two years, during which
he diligently devoted himself to music, being his own instructor upon
the violin, but a pupil of the college organist in counterpoint and
composition. Later, being united to his wife, he made still further
studies on the violin, and by 1721 had returned to Padua, where he
evermore resided, his reputation bringing him a sufficient number of
pupils to assist his rather meager salary as solo violinist of the
cathedral. He was a virtuoso violinist greater than any one before
him. Besides employing the higher positions more freely than had
previously been the case, he appears to have made great improvements
in the art of bowing, and his playing was characterized by great
purity and depth of sentiment, and at times with most astonishing
passion. He was a composer of extraordinary merit, several of his
pieces for the violin still forming part of the concert repertory of
artists. His famous "_Trillo del Diavolo_," is well known. He dreamed
that he had sold his soul to the devil, and on the whole was well
pleased with the behavior of that gentlemanly personage. But it
occurred to him to ask his strange associate to play something for him
on the violin. Cheerfully Satan took the instrument, and immediately
improvised a sonata of astonishing force and wild passion, concluding
it with a great passage of trills, of superhuman power and beauty;
Tartini awoke in an ecstasy of admiration. Whereupon he sought after
every manner to reduce to paper the wonderful composition of his
dream. Fine as was the work thus produced, Tartini always maintained
that it fell far short of the glorious virtuoso piece which he had
heard.
Tartini was in some sort a forerunner of the modern romantic school.
He was accustomed to take a poem as the basis of an instrumental
piece. He wrote the words along the score and conducted the music
wherever the spirit of the words took it. He was also in the habit of
affixing to his published works mottoes, indicative of their poetic
intention. With this general characterization his music well agrees,
for in dreamy moods it has a mystical beauty till then unknown in
music. He is also entitled to lasting memory on account of his having
first discovered the phenomenon of "combination tones," the under
resultant which is produced when two tones are sounded together upon
the violin, especially in the higher parts of the compass. These tones
are the roots of the consonances sounding, and Tartini directed the
attention of his pupils to them as a guide to correct intonation in
double stops, since they do not occur unless the intonation is pure.
He made this important discovery about 1714, and in 1754 he published
a treatise on harmony embodying the combination tones as a basis of a
system of harmony. This having been violently attacked, his second
work of this kind, "On the Principles of Musical Harmony Contained in
the Diatonic Genus," was published in 1767. Tartini, therefore, must
be reckoned among the great masters who have contributed to a true
doctrine of the tonal system. Copies of his theoretical writings are
in the Newberry Library at Chicago.
In the latter part of the eighteenth century and the first of the next
following the art of violin playing was best illustrated by the German
artist, Louis Spohr (1784-1859), who was almost or quite as great as a
composer, as in his early career of a virtuoso. In his own specialty
he was one of the most eminent masters who has ever appeared. His
technique was founded upon that of his predecessors of the school of
Viotti and Rode, but his own individuality was so decided that he soon
found out a style original with himself. Its distinguishing quality
was the singing tone. He never reconciled himself to the light bow
introduced by Paganini, and all his work is distinguished by
sweetness, singing quality and a flowing melodiousness. He was fond of
chromatic harmonies and double stops, which imparted great sonority to
his playing. He was born at Brunswick, and early commenced to study
music. At the age of fifteen he played in the orchestra of the duke of
Brunswick, at a yearly salary of about $100. Later he studied and
traveled with Eck, a great player of the day, and upon his return to
Brunswick he became leader of the orchestra. His virtuoso career
commenced about 1803. Two years later he became musical director at
Gotha, where he married a charming harp player, Dorette Scheidler, who
invariably afterward appeared with him in all their concerts. They
traveled in their own carriage, having suitable boxes for the harp and
the violin. In 1813 he was musical director at the theater, "_An der
Wein_," at Vienna, where among his violinists was Moritz Hauptmann,
afterward so celebrated as theorist.
Soon after his arrival in Vienna, Spohr received a singular
proposition from one Herr von Tost, to the effect "that for a
proportionate pecuniary consideration I would assign over to him all I
might compose, or had already written, in Vienna, for the term of
three years, to be his sole property during that time; to give him the
original scores, and to keep myself even no copy of them. After the
lapse of three years he would return the manuscript to me, and I
should then be at liberty either to publish or sell them. After I had
pondered a moment over this strange and enigmatical proposition, I
asked him whether the compositions were not to be played during those
three years? Whereupon Herr von Tost replied: 'Oh, yes! As often as
possible, but each time upon my lending them for that purpose, and
only in my presence.'" He desired such pieces as could be produced in
private circles, and would therefore prefer quartettes and quintettes
for stringed instruments, and sextettes, octettes and nonettes for
stringed and wind instruments. Spohr was to consider the proposition
and fix upon the sum to be paid for the different kinds of
compositions. Finding on inquiry that Herr von Tost was a wealthy man,
very fond of music, Spohr fixed the price at thirty ducats for a
quartette, thirty-five for a quintette, and so on, progressively
higher for the different kinds of composition. On being questioned as
to his object, Von Tost replied: "I have two objects in view: First, I
desire to be invited to the musical parties where you will execute
your compositions, and for that I must have them in my keeping.
Secondly, possessing such treasures of art, I hope upon my business
journeys to make extensive acquaintance among the lovers of music,
which may then serve me also in my manufacturing interests." This
singular bargain was duly consummated and faithfully carried out, and
the wealthy patron proved of great service to the Spohrs in procuring
their housekeeping outfit from various tradesmen with whom he had
dealings, and he would not suffer Spohr to pay for anything, saying
only, "Give yourself no uneasiness; you will soon square everything
with your compositions."
The most important of Spohr's works is his great school for the
violin, published in 1831. He left also a vast amount of chamber
music, fifteen concertos for violin and orchestra, nine symphonies,
four oratories, of which "The Last Judgment" is perhaps the best, ten
operas, many concert overtures, etc.--in all more than 200 works, many
of them of large dimensions. His best operas are "_Jessonda_" (1823),
"Faust" (1818), "The Alchemist" (1832) and "The Crusaders" (1845). His
orchestral works are richly instrumented, and the coloring is sweet
and mellow, yet at times extremely sonorous.
During his residence in Vienna, Spohr met Beethoven many times. He was
one of the first to introduce the earlier quartettes, in his concerts
throughout Germany, and valued them properly. But in regard to the
Beethoven symphonies he placed himself on record in a highly
entertaining manner. He says of the melody of the famous "Hymn to
Joy," in Beethoven's ninth symphony, that it is so "monstrous and
tasteless, and its grasp of Schiller's ode so trivial, that I cannot
even now understand how a genius like Beethoven could have written
it."
[Illustration]
Book Fifth.
THE
Period of the Romantic.
WEBER, PAGANINI, SCHUBERT, BERLIOZ, MEYERBEER, MENDELSSOHN, SCHUMANN,
CHOPIN, LISZT, WAGNER; THE VIRTUOSI; MUSIC OF THE FUTURE.
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, THE ROMANTIC; MUSIC OF THE FUTURE.
In ordinary speech a distinction is made between the musical
productions of the eighteenth century and those of the next following;
the former being called _Classic_, the latter _Romantic_. The terms
are used rather indefinitely. According to Hegel, whose teaching
coincided with the last years of Beethoven's life, the classic in art
embraces those productions in which the _general_ is aimed at, rather
than the _particular_; the _reposeful_ and _completely satisfactory_,
rather than the _forced_, or the _sensational_; and the _beautiful_
rather than the _exciting_. The philosopher Hegel, who was one of the
first to employ this distinction in art criticism, took his departure
from the famous group of Laocoön and his sons in the embrace of the
destroying serpents. This group, so full of agony and irrepressible
horror, belongs, he said, to a totally different concept of art from
that of the gods and goddesses of Greece, in the beauty and freshness
of their eternal youth. These qualities are those of the general and
the eternal; the Laocoön, in its nature painful, was not nor could be
permanently satisfactory in and of itself, but only through allowance
being made by reason of interest in the story told by it. According to
more recent philosophers, the romantic movement in literature and art
(for they are parts of the same general movement of the latter part of
the eighteenth century) has its essential characteristic in the
doctrine that what is to be sought in art is not the pleasing and the
satisfactory, so much as the true. _Everything_, they say, belonging
to life and experience, is fit subject of art; to the end that thereby
the soul may learn to understand itself, and come to complete
self-consciousness. The entire movement of the romantic writers had
for its moving principle the maxim, _Nihil humanum alienum a me puto_
("I will consider nothing human to be foreign to me"). Yet other
writers make the romantic element to consist of the striking, the
strongly contrasted, the exciting, and so at length the sensational.
Whichever construction we may put upon this much used and seldom
determined term, its general meaning is that of a distinction from the
more moderate writings and compositions of the eighteenth century.
_Individualism_, as opposed to the general, is the key to the
romantic, and in music this principle has acquired great dominance
throughout the century in which we are still living. Moreover, if the
principle of individualism had not been discovered in its application
to the other arts, it must necessarily have found its way into music,
for music is the most subjective of all the arts; having indeed its
general principles of form and proportion, but coming to the composer
(if he be a genius) as the immediate expression of his own feelings
and moods, or as the interplay of his environment and the inner
faculties of musical phantasy.
In this sense there is a difference between the music of Bach and
Mozart, on the one hand, and that of Beethoven and Schubert, on the
other. Beethoven was essentially a romantic composer, especially
after he had passed middle life, and the period of the "Moonlight"
sonata. From that time on, his works are more and more free in form,
and their moods are more strongly marked and individual. This is true
of Beethoven, in spite of his having been born, as we might say, under
the star of the classic. He writes freely and fantastically, in spite
of his early training. The mood in the man dominated everything, and
it is always this which finds its expression in the music.
The romantic, therefore, represents an enlargement of the domain of
music, by the acquisition of provinces outside its boundaries, and
belonging originally to the domains of poetry and painting. And so by
romantic is meant the general idea of representing in music something
outside, of telling a story or painting a picture by means of music.
The principle was already old, being involved in the very conception
of opera, which in the nature of the case is an attempt to make music
do duty as describer of the inner feelings and experiences of the
_dramatis personæ_. Nevertheless, while leading continually to
innovations in musical discourse for almost two centuries, it was
prevented from having more than momentary entrances into instrumental
music until the beginning of the nineteenth century, when the general
movement of mind known as the romantic was at its height. In France
the writers of this group carried on war against classic
tradition--the idea that every literary work should be modeled after
one of those of the ancient writers; subjects of tragedy should be
taken from Greek mythology or history; and the characters should think
like the classics, and speak in the formal and stilted phraseology of
the vernacular translations out of the ancient works. These writers,
also, were those who upheld the rights of man, and produced
declarations of independence. In short, it was the principle of
individualism, as opposed to the merely general and conventional, for
we may remember that the conventional had a large place in ancient
art. Plato says (see p. 38) that the Egyptians had patterns of the
good in all forms of art, framed and displayed in their temples. And
new productions were to be judged by comparing them with these, and
when they contained different principles, they were upon that account
to be condemned and prohibited.
In farther evidence of the correspondence between the musical activity
in this direction, and the general movement of mind at this period,
including the shaking up of the dry bones in every part of the social
order, (the French revolution being the most extreme and drastic
illustration), we may observe that the composer through whom this
element entered into the art of music in its first free development
was Franz Schubert, who was born during the years when this
disturbance was at its height, namely, in 1797. Moreover, the manner
in which his inspiration to musical creation was received corresponded
exactly to the definition of the romantic given above; for it was
always through reading a poem or a story that these strange and
beautiful musical combinations occurred to him, many instances of
which are given in the sketch later. It is curious, furthermore, that
the general method of Schubert's musical thought is classical in its
repose, save where directly associated with a text of a
picture-building character, or of decided emotion. Thus, while it is
not possible to separate one part of the works of this composer from
another, and to say of the one that it belongs to an older
dispensation, while the other part represents a different principle
of art (both parts alike having the same general treatment of melody,
and the same refined and poetic atmosphere), it is, nevertheless, true
that if we had only the sonatas, chamber pieces, and the symphonies of
Schubert, no one would think of classing his works differently from
those of Mozart, as to their operative principles. But when we have
the songs, the five or six hundred of them, the operas and other vocal
works, in which music is so lovely in and of itself, yet at the same
time so descriptive, so loyal to the changing moods of the text, we
necessarily interpret the instrumental music in the same light,
especially when we know that there are no distinct periods in the
short life of this composer concerning which different principles can
be predicated.
Almost immediately after Schubert there come composers in whom the new
tendency is more marked. Mendelssohn entered the domain of the
romantic in 1826, with his overture to the "Midsummer Night's Dream,"
and directly after him came Schumann, with a luxuriant succession of
deeply moved, imaginative, _quasi_-descriptive, or at any rate
_representative_, pianoforte pieces. Schumann, indeed, did not need to
read a poem in order to find musical ideas flowing in unaccustomed
channels. The ideas took these forms and channels of their own accord,
as we see in his very first pieces, his "_Papillons_," "_Intermezzi_,"
"_Davidsbundlertänze_" and the like. So, too, with Chopin. There is
very little of the descriptive and the picture-making element in his
works. Nevertheless, they chimed in so well with the unrest, the
somewhat Byronic sentiment, the vague yearning of the period, that
they found a public without loss of time, and established themselves
in the popular taste without having had to find a propaganda movement
for explaining them as the foretokens of a "music of the future."
This representative work in music has been very much helped by the
astonishing development of virtuosity upon the violin, the pianoforte
and other instruments, which distinguishes this century. Beginning
with Paganini, whose astonishing violin playing was first heard during
the last years of the eighteenth century, we have Thalberg, Chopin,
Liszt, Rubinstein, Joachim, Tausig, Leonard, and a multitude of
others, through whose efforts the general appreciation of instrumental
music has been wonderfully stimulated, and the appetite for overcoming
difficulties and realizing great effects so much increased as to have
permanently elevated the standard of complication in musical
discourse, and the popular average of performance.
Nor has virtuosity been confined to single instruments. There have
been two great virtuosi in orchestration, during this century, who
have exercised as great an influence in this complicated and elaborate
department, as the others mentioned have upon their own solo
instruments. The first of these was Hector Berlioz, the great French
master, whose earlier compositions were produced in 1835, when the
instruments of the orchestra were combined in vast masses, and with
descriptive intention, far beyond anything by previous writers. In his
later works, such as the "Damnation of Faust," and the mighty Requiem,
Berlioz far surpassed these efforts, every one of his effects
afterward proving to have been well calculated. Directly after his
early works came the first of that much discussed genius, Richard
Wagner, who besides being one of the most profound and acute
intelligences ever distinguished in music, and a great master of the
province of opera (in which he accomplished stupendous creations), was
also an orchestral virtuoso, coloring when he chose, with true
instinct, for the mere sake of color; and massing and contrasting
instruments in endless variety and beauty.
The activity in musical production during the nineteenth century has
been so extraordinary in amount and in the number of composers
concerned in it, and so ample in the range of musical effects brought
to realization, as fully to illustrate the truth of the principle
enunciated at the outset of this narrative, namely: That the course of
musical progress has been toward greater complication of tonal effects
in every direction; implying upon the part of composers the possession
of more inclusive principles of tonal unity; and upon the part of the
hearers, to whom these vast works have been addressed, the possession
of corresponding powers of tonal perception, and the persistence of
impressions for a sufficient length of time in each instance for the
underlying unity to be realized.
As an incident in the rapidity of the progress on the part of
composers, we have had what is called "the music of the future";
namely, productions of one generation intelligible to the finer
intelligences of that generation, yet "music of the future" to all the
others; but in the generation following, these compositions have gone
into the common stock, through the progress of the faculties of
hearing and of deeper perceptions of tonal relations. Meanwhile there
has been created another stratum of music of the future, which may be
expected to occupy the attention of the generation next ensuing, to
whom in turn it will become the music of the present.
In the nature of the case, there is not, nor can there be, a stopping
place, unless we conceive the possibility of a return to the
conservatism of Plato and the ancient Egyptians, and the passage of
statute laws permitting the employment of chords and rhythms up to a
certain specified degree of complexity, beyond which their use would
constitute a grave statutory offense. It is possible that the ideal of
art might again be "reformed" in the direction of restriction from the
uncomely, the forced and the sensational, and in favor of the
beautiful, the becoming and the divine. Nevertheless, it is the
inevitable consequence of a prescription of this kind to run into mere
prettiness and tuneful emptiness. Protection is a failure in art. The
spirit must have freedom, or it will never take its grandest flights.
And it is altogether possible that the needed corrective will
presently be discovered of itself, through the progress of spirit into
a clearer vision, a higher aspiration and a nobler sense of beauty.
This we may hope will be one of the distinctions of the coming ages,
which poets have foretold and seers have imagined, when truth and love
will prevail and find their illustration in a civilization conformed
of its own accord to the unrestricted outflowing of these deep,
eternal, divine principles.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XXXII.
SCHUBERT AND THE ROMANTIC.
The first two great figures of the nineteenth century were those of
Carl Maria von Weber, whose work will be considered later, and the
great song writer, Franz Peter Schubert (1797-1828). This remarkable
man was born of poor parents in Vienna, or near it, his father being a
schoolmaster, earning the proverbially meager stipend of the
profession in Germany at that time, amounting to no more than $100 or
$200 a year. The family was musical, and the Sundays were devoted to
quartette playing and other forms of music. The boy Franz early showed
a fine ear. He was soon put to the study of the violin and the
piano--while still a mere child being furnished with a small violin,
upon which he went through the motions of his father's part. He had a
fine voice, and this attracted the attention of the director of the
choir in the great Cathedral of St. Stephen's, as it had in Haydn's
case, and he was presently enrolled as chorister and a member of what
was called the "Convict," a school connected with the church, where
the boys had schooling as well as musical instruction. Early he began
to write, among his first works being certain pieces for the piano and
violin, composed when he was a little more than eleven. In the
"Convict" school there was an orchestra where they practiced
symphonies and overtures of Haydn, Mozart, Kotzeluch, Cherubini,
Méhul, Krommer, and occasionally Beethoven. Here his playing
immediately put him on a level with the older boys. One of them turned
around one day to see who it was playing so cleverly, and found it "a
little boy in spectacles," named Franz Schubert. The two boys became
intimate, and one day the little fellow, blushing deeply, admitted to
the older one that he had composed much, and would do so still more if
he could get the music paper. Spaun saw the state of affairs, and took
care thereafter that the music paper should be forthcoming. In time
Franz became first violin, and when the conductor was absent, took his
place. The orchestral music delighted him greatly, and of the Mozart
adagio, in the G minor symphony, he said that "you could hear the
angels singing." Among other works which particularly delighted him
were the overtures to the "Magic Flute" and "Figaro." The particular
object of his reverence was Beethoven, who was then at the height of
his fame, but he never met the great master more than once or twice.
Once when a few boyish songs had been sung to words by Klopstock,
Schubert asked his friend whether _he_ could ever do anything after
Beethoven. His friend answered, perhaps he could do a great deal. To
which the boy responded: "Perhaps; I sometimes have dreams of that
sort; but who can do anything after Beethoven?" The boy made but small
reputation for scholarship in the school, after the thirst for
composition had taken possession of him, which it did when he had been
there but one year. One of his earliest compositions was a fantasia
for four hands, having about thirteen movements of different
character, occupying about thirty-two pages of fine writing. His
brother remarks that not one ends in the key in which it began. He
seems to have had a passion for uncanny subjects, for the next work of
his is a "Lament of Hagar," of thirteen movements in different keys,
unconnected. After this again, a "Corpse Fantasia" to words of
Schiller. This has seventeen movements, and is positively erratic in
its changes of key. It is full of reminiscences of Haydn's "Creation"
and other works. The musical stimulation of this boy was meager
indeed. Not until he was thirteen years of age did he hear an opera;
and not until he was fifteen a really first-class work, Spontini's
"Vestal," in 1812. Three years later he probably heard Gluck's
"_Iphigenie en Tauride_," a work which in his estimation eclipsed them
all. During the same year there were the sixth and seventh symphonies,
the choral fantasia and portions of the mass in C, and the overture to
"Coriolanus," of Beethoven. He was a great admirer of Mozart, and in
his diary, under date of June 13, 1816, he speaks of a quintette:
"Gently, as if out of a distance, did the magic tones of Mozart's
music strike my ears. With what inconceivable alternate force and
tenderness did Schlesinger's magic playing impress it deep into my
heart! Such lovely impressions remain on my soul, there to work for
good, past all power of time and circumstance. In the darkness of this
life they reveal a bright, beautiful prospect, inspiring confidence
and hope. Oh Mozart, Mozart, what countless consolatory images of a
bright, better world hast thou stamped on our souls!"
Presently Schubert entered his father's school, in order to avoid the
rigorous conscription, and remained a teacher of the elementary
branches for three years. His first important composition was a mass,
which was produced honorably October 16, 1814, and many good judges
pronounced it equal to any similar work of the kind, excepting
possibly Beethoven's mass in C. By 1815 the rage of composition had
fully taken possession of the soul of Schubert, and thenceforth poured
out from this receptacle of inspiration a steady succession of works
of all dimensions and characters, very few of which were performed in
his lifetime. Among these works in the year 1815, there are 137 songs,
of which only sixty-seven are printed as yet. And in August alone
twenty-nine, of which eight are dated the 15th, and seven the 19th.
Among these 137 songs some are of such enormous length that this
feature alone would have prevented their publication. Of those
published, "_Die Burgschaft_" fills twenty-two pages of the Litolff
edition. It was the length of these compositions which caused
Beethoven's exclamation upon his death bed: "Such long poems, many of
them containing ten others." And this mass of music was produced in
the interim of school drudgery. Among these songs of his boyhood years
are "_Gretchen am Spinnrade_," "_Der Erl König_," "Hedge Roses,"
"Restless Love," the "_Schaefer's Klaglied_," the "Ossian" songs, and
many others, all falling within the production of this year. It is
said that when the "Erl King" was tried in the evening, the listeners
at the convict thought it of questionable success. The music of the
boy at the words "My father, my father" seemed to be inexcusable, for
overwhelmed with fright, he sings a half a tone sharp of the
accompaniment.
At length, after about three years, Schubert's services as a
schoolmaster becoming less and less valuable, an opening was made for
him by Schober, who proposed that Schubert should live with him. He
was now free to devote himself to composition, and so thoroughly did
he do this that in the year following, 1816, he experienced the
novelty of having composed for money, a cantata of his having not only
been performed upon the occasion of Salieri's fiftieth anniversary of
life in Vienna, but money was sent him for it, 100 florins, Vienna
money, about $20 American. He was already composing operas, and in
1816 there was one, "_Die Burgschaft_," in three acts. In the same
year there were two symphonies, the fourth in C minor, called "The
Tragic," and the fifth for small orchestra. The songs of this year,
however, were of more value. Among them were the "Wanderer's Night
Song," the "Fisher," the "Wanderer" and many others now known wherever
melody and dramatic quality are appreciated.
The rapidity with which he composed songs was incredible. October,
1815, he finds the poems of Rosegarten, and between the 15th and 19th
sets seven of them. "Everything that he touched," says Schumann,
"turned into music." At a later date, calling upon one of his friends,
he found certain poems by Wilhelm Müller, and carried them off with
him. A few days later, his friend desiring the book, called on
Schubert for it, and found that he had already set a number of them to
music. They were the songs of the "_Schöne Müllerin_." A year or so
after, returning from a day in the country, they stopped at a tavern,
where he found a friend with a volume of Shakespeare open before him.
Schubert took up the volume, turned a few pages, became interested in
one of the pieces, took up some waste paper, and scribbling the lines
proceeded to write a melody. This was the so-called "Shakespeare
Serenade," "Hark, Hark, the Lark." The "Serenade," in D minor, is said
to have been conceived in a similarly impromptu manner. In 1816 the
great tenor, Vogl, made Schubert's acquaintance, having been brought
by one of Schubert's admirers. At first the songs did not make much
impression upon him; later they grew upon him, and he introduced them
among the best circles of the Vienna aristocracy. Vogl appreciated the
value of these songs. "Nothing," said he, "so shows the want of a good
school of singing as Schubert's songs. Otherwise, what an enormous and
universal effect must have been produced throughout the world,
wherever the German language is understood, by these truly divine
inspirations, these utterances of musical clairvoyance. How many would
have comprehended for the first time the meaning of such terms as
speech and poetry in music; words in harmony, ideas clothed in music,
and would have learned that the finest poems of our greatest poets may
be enhanced and even transcended when translated into musical
language. Numberless examples might be named, but I will only mention
the 'Erl King,' 'Gretchen,' '_Schwager Kronos_,' 'The Mignon's and
Harper's Songs,' 'Schiller's Pilgrim,' the '_Burgschaft_' and the
'_Sehnsucht_.'"
We are told that within the next two or three years Schubert made a
number of friends, and the circle of his admirers was considerably
extended. The same remarkable productivity continued. In the summer of
1818 he went to the country seat of Count Esterhazy, where he remained
several months. This was in Hungary, and the Hungarian pieces are
supposed to date from his residence there. It was not until 1819 that
the first song of Schubert was sung in public. This was the
"Shepherd's Lament," of which the Leipsic correspondent of the
_Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung_ says: "The touching and feeling
composition of this talented young man was sung by Herr Jaeger in a
similar spirit." The following year, among other compositions, was the
oratorio of "Lazarus," which was composed in three parts--first, the
sickness and death, then the burial and elegy, and, finally, the
resurrection. The last part, unfortunately, if ever written, has been
lost. He made attempts at operatic composition, producing a vast
amount of beautiful music, but always to indifferent librettos, so
that none of his music was publicly performed. It was not until 1827
and 1828 that his continual practice in orchestral writing resulted in
the production of real master works. In this year the unfinished
symphony in B minor was produced, in which the two movements that we
have are among the most beautiful and poetic that the treasury of
orchestral music possesses. The other was the great symphony in C,
which was first performed in Leipsic ten years after Schubert's death,
through the intervention of Schumann. During all these years since
leaving his father's school, Schubert had been living in a very modest
manner, with an income which must have been very small and irregular.
He was very industrious, usually rising soon after five in the
morning, and, after a light breakfast of coffee and rolls, writing
steadily about seven hours. The amount of work which he got through in
this way was something incredible. Whole acts of operas were composed
and beautifully written out in score within a few days. Upon the same
morning from three to six songs might be written, if the poems chanced
to attract him. He scarcely ever altered or erased, and rarely
curtailed. All his music has the character of improvisation. The
melody, harmony, the thematic treatment, and the accompaniment with
the instrumental coloring, all seem to have occurred to him at the
same time. It is only a question of writing it down. Very little of
his music was performed during his lifetime--of the songs, first and
last, many of them in private circles, and the last two or three years
of his life, perhaps twenty or twenty-five in public. A few of his
smaller orchestral numbers were played by amateur players, where he
may have heard them himself, but his larger works he never heard. All
that schooling of ear which Beethoven had, as an orchestral director
in youth, Schubert lacked. His studies in counterpoint had never been
pursued beyond the rudiments, and the last engagement he made before
his death was for lessons with Sechter, the contrapuntal authority in
Vienna at that time.
In spontaneity of genius Schubert resembles Mozart more than any other
master who ever lived. His early education and training were different
from those of Mozart, and musical ideas take different form with him.
While Mozart was distinctly a melodist, counterpoint and fugue were at
his fingers' ends, and his thematic treatment had all the freedom
which comes from a thorough training in the use of musical material.
Schubert had not this kind of training. He never wrote a good fugue,
and his counterpoint was indifferent; but on the other hand he had
several qualities which Mozart had not, and in particular a very
curious and interesting mental phenomenon, which we might call
psychical resonance or clairvoyance. Whatever poem or story he read
immediately called up musical images in his mind. Under the excitement
of the sentiment of a poem, or of dramatic incidents narrated, strange
harmonies spontaneously suggested themselves, and melodies exquisitely
appropriate to the sentiment he desired to convey. He was a musical
painter, whose colors were not imitated from something without
himself, but were inspired from within.
Schubert was a great admirer of Beethoven, and upon one occasion
called upon him with a set of works which he had dedicated to the
great master. Beethoven had been prepared for the visit by some
admirer of Schubert's, and received him very kindly, but when he began
to compliment the works the bashful Schubert rushed out of doors. Upon
another occasion during his last illness Beethoven desired something
to read, and a selection of about sixty of Schubert's songs, partly in
print and partly in manuscript, were put in his hands. His
astonishment was extreme, especially when he heard that there existed
about 500 of the same kind. He pored over them for days, and asked to
see Schubert's operas and piano pieces, but the illness returned, and
it was too late. He said "Truly Schubert has the divine fire in him."
Schubert was one of the torch bearers at Beethoven's funeral. In March
1828, he gave an evening concert of his own works in the hall of the
Musikverein. The hall was crowded, the concert very successful, and
the receipts more than $150, which was a very large sum for Schubert
in those days. For several months before his death Schubert's health
was delicate. Poverty and hard work, a certain want of encouragement
and ease had done their office for him. He died November 19, 1828. He
left no will. His personal property was sold at auction, the whole
amounting to about $12. Among the assets was a lot of old music valued
at ten florins. It is uncertain whether this included the unpublished
manuscript or not. In personal appearance Schubert was somewhat
insignificant. He was about five feet one inch high, his figure stout
and clumsy, with a round back and shoulders, perhaps due to incessant
writing, fleshy arms, thick, short fingers. His cheeks were full, his
eyebrows bushy and his nose insignificant. His hair was black, and
remarkably thick and vigorous, and his eyes were so bright that even
through the spectacles, which he constantly wore, they at once
attracted attention. His glasses were inseparable from his face. In
the convict he was the "little boy in spectacles." He habitually slept
in them. He was very simple in his tastes, timid and never really at
ease but in the society of his intimates and people of his own
station. His attitude toward the aristocracy was entirely different
from the domineering, self-assertive pose of Beethoven, but he was
very amiable, and dearly beloved.
[Illustration: Fig. 67.
FRANZ SCHUBERT.]
His place in the history of music, aside from the general fact of his
possessing genius of the first order, is that of the creator of the
artistic song. While his pianoforte sonatas are extremely beautiful
and very difficult, and anticipate many modern effects; his string
quartettes, and other chamber music, worthy to be ranked with those of
any other master; and his symphonies exquisitely beautiful in their
ideas, orchestral coloring and the entire atmosphere which they
carry--his habitual attitude was that of the writer of songs. Some of
these are of remarkable length and range. One of them extends to
sixty-six pages of manuscript. Another occupies forty-five pages of
close print. A work of this kind is a cantata, and not merely a song.
Many of the others are six or eight pages long, and in all the music
freely and spontaneously follows the poem, with a delicate
correspondence between the poetic idea and the melody, with its
harmony and treatment, such as we look for in vain in any other
writer, unless it be Schumann, who, however, did not possess
Schubert's instinct of the vocally suitable. For with all the range
which these songs cover, their vocal quality is as noticeable as that
of Italian cantilenas.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE STORY OF THE PIANOFORTE.
The popular instrument of the nineteenth century has been the
pianoforte, the result of an evolution having its beginning more than
six centuries back. It is impossible in the present state of knowledge
to trace all the steps through which this remarkable instrument has
reached its present form. In the Assyrian sculptures discovered by
Layard, there are instruments apparently composed of metal rods or
plates, touched by hammers, upon the same general principle as the toy
instrument with glass plates, or the xylophone composed of wooden rods
resting upon bands of straw. In these the use of the hammer for
producing the tone is obvious. In the Middle Ages there was an
instrument called the psaltery, apparently some sort of a four-sided
harp strung with metal strings. The evidence upon this point is rather
indistinct. Still later there is the Arab santir (p. 114). This was a
trapeze-shaped instrument, composed of a solid frame, sounding board
and metal wires struck with hammers. This instrument still exists in
Germany under the name of _Hackbrett_, or the dulcimer. As now made,
each string consists of three wires tuned in unison. It is played by
means of leather hammers held in the hand. The difficulty of adapting
this instrument to the keyboard consisted in the fact that if the
hammers were connected with the keys, they would be under the strings
instead of above them, and this difficulty for a long time proved
insurmountable.
[Illustration: Fig. 68.
SPINET.
(Showing the disposition of the strings, bridges, etc. Dresden,
1590.)]
Two forms of instruments were at length developed, composed of a
wire-strung psaltery, played from a chromatic keyboard like that of
the organ. The first of these was the one called in England Spinet, or
in Italy _Espinnetto_, and in Germany the _Clavier_. The essential
characteristic of this instrument was the manner of producing tones.
Upon the ends of the keys were brass pieces called "tangents," of a
triangular shape, of such form that when the key was pressed, the
tangent pushed the wire and so produced the tone. As it remained in
contact with the wire as long as the key was held down, there was
nothing like what we now call a singing tone. The instruments were
very small, in shape like a square piano, but of three or four octaves
compass; the wires were of brass, and quite small. In several
representations which have come down to us from the seventeenth
century, the number of strings shown is smaller than the number of
keys, from which some writers have inferred that it might have been
possible to obtain more than one tone from the same string, through a
process of stopping it with one tangent and striking it with another.
This, however, is highly improbable; the discrepancies referred to are
undoubtedly due to carelessness of the engraver. The clavier, or
spinet, was a better instrument than the lute, which at length it
superseded, having more tones and a greater harmonic capacity. Besides
which it was a step toward something much better still. In England
they made them with pieces of cloth drawn through between the wires,
to deaden the already small tone still further. These were sometimes
called virginals, and seem to have been used as practice pianos, where
the noise of the full tone might have been objectionable. The oldest
form of the clavier known to the writer was that shown in Fig. 69,
which was so small that it might be carried under the arm, and when
used was placed upon the table. They were sometimes ornamented in a
very elaborate manner.
[Illustration: Fig. 69.
KEYBOARD AND FRET WORK OF SPINET SHOWN IN FIG. 68.]
[Illustration: Fig. 70.
RICHLY ORNAMENTED SPINET.
(Made for the Princess Anna, of Saxony, about 1550.)]
Contemporaneously with the spinet, and of almost equal antiquity, was
an instrument in the form of a grand piano, called in Italy the
clavicembalo, and in England the harpsichord. In Germany it was called
the _flugel_ or wing, from its being shaped like the wings of a bird.
These also, in the earlier times, were made very small, and were
rested upon the table. The essential distinction between the cembalo
and the spinet was in the manner of tone production. In the cembalo
there was a wooden jack resting upon the end of the keys, and upon
this jack a little plectrum made of raven's quill, which had to be
frequently renewed. When the key was pressed, the jack rose and the
plectrum snapped the wire. The tone was thin and delicate, but as the
plectrum did not remain in contact with the string, the vibration
continued longer than in the clavier. The cembalo was the favorite
instrument in Italy during the seventeenth century, and in England it
had a great currency under the name of harpsichord. Many attempts
were made at increasing the resources of this instrument, one of the
most curious being that of combining two harpsichords in one, having
two actions, two sounding boards and sets of strings, and two
keyboards related like those of the organ. This form seems to have
been exclusively English. The form of the harpsichord is shown in Fig.
71.
[Illustration: Fig. 71.
MOZART'S CONCERT GRAND PIANO.
(Now in the Mozart Museum at Salzburg. Its compass is five octaves.)]
Far back in the sixteenth century an attempt was made at a hammer
mechanism to strike down upon the strings. For this purpose the
strings were placed in a vertical position, the same as in our upright
pianos of the present day. Mr. B.J. Lang, of Boston, has an upright
spinet of this kind, which he bought in Nuremburg. It is a small and
rude affair, having about four octaves compass and a very small scale.
[Illustration: Fig. 72.
CRISTOFORI'S ACTION.
(According to his original diagram.)
_A_ is the string; _b_ the bottom; _c_ the first lever, or key; there
is a pad, _d_, upon the key to raise a second lever, _e_, which is
pivoted upon _f_; _g_ is the hopper--Cristofori's _linguetta
mobile_--which, controlled by the springs _i_ and _l_, effects the
escape, or immediate drop, of the hammer from the strings after the
blow has been struck, although the key is still kept down by the
finger. The hopper is centered at _h_. _M_ is a rack or comb on the
beam, _s_, where, _h_, the butt, _n_, of the hammer, _o_, is centered.
In a state of rest the hammer is supported by a cross or fork of silk
thread, _p_. On the depression of the key, _c_, the tail, _q_, of the
second lever, _e_, draws away the damper, _r_, from the strings,
leaving them free to vibrate. (Hipkins.)]
The pianoforte proper was not invented until 1711, when a Florentine
mechanic, named Cristofori, invented what he called a Fortepiano, from
its capacity of being played loud or soft. The essential feature of
the pianoforte mechanism is in the use of the hammer to produce the
tone, and the necessary provision for doing this successfully is to
secure an instantaneous escapement of the hammer from contact with the
wire, as soon as the blow has been delivered, while at the same time
the key remains pressed in order to hold the damper away from the
strings and allow the tone to go on. These features were all contained
in Cristofori's invention. The above diagram, Fig. 72, illustrates the
mechanism employed. It is from Cristofori's published account of his
invention, dated 1711; but there is in Florence a pianoforte of his
manufacture still existing, dated 1726, in which the action is more
perfect, as shown in Fig. 73.
[Illustration: Fig. 73.
ACTION OF CRISTOFORI'S FORTEPIANO. DATE 1726.
(Besides several minor improvements over his first idea, the later
instrument has a hammer check, _p_, and the hammer is more
developed.)]
The invention of Cristofori was taken up in Germany almost
immediately, and a Dresden piano maker, Silbermann, became very
celebrated. It was the pianofortes of his manufacture in the palace at
Potsdam, which Frederick the Great made Bach try, one after another.
The form of these instruments was the same as that of Mozart's piano,
shown in Fig. 71. The square-formed piano began to be made about 1750,
but the instrument involved no application of new principles, being
merely a clavier with pianoforte mechanism. The new form, so much more
compact and inexpensive, began to be popular, and was soon the
standard form for private families, as that of the clavier had been
before, and as the square piano, remained until as late as about 1870,
when the inherent mechanical difficulties of the upright were for the
first time satisfactorily overcome. Pepys, in his diary, tells of
having purchased a virginal which pleased him very much. It cost five
guineas--about $26.
[Illustration: Fig. 74.
IMPROVED ACTION OF THE ÉRARD CONCERT GRAND. (1821.)
_C_ is the key; _d_ is a pilot, centered at _dd_ to give the blow, by
means of a carrier, _e_, holding the hopper, _g_, which delivers the
blow to the hammer, _o_, by the thrust of the hopper, which escapes by
forward movement after contact with a projection from the hammer
covered with leather, answering to the notch of the English action.
This escapement is controlled at _x_; a double spring _il_, pushes up
a hinged lever, _ee_, the rise of which is checked at _pp_, and causes
the second or double escapement; a little stirrup at the shoulder of
the hammer, known as the "repetition" pressing down _ee_ at the point,
and by this depression permitting _g_ to go back to its place, and be
ready for a second blow before the key has been materially raised. The
check _p_ in this action is not behind the hammer, but before it,
fixed into the carrier, _e_, which also, as the key is put down,
brings down the under damper. (Hipkins.)]
The instruments were still small, and strung with small wires;
nevertheless, there was a tendency toward increased compass, which, by
the beginning of the nineteenth century, led the Broadwoods, of
London, to attempt a grand piano with six octaves' compass. But they
found that the wrest plank (in which the tuning strings are placed),
was so weakened by the extension that the treble would not stand in
tune. In order to strengthen the instrument, he introduced the iron
tension bar. This, like nearly all of the English improvements of the
piano during the first quarter of the nineteenth century, was in the
direction of greater solidity, and better resisting power to the pull
of the strings.
Upon the artistic side, Sebastian Érard in 1808 patented his grand
action, which, with very slight improvements, still remains the model
of what a piano action should be. Fig. 74 shows this action and its
parts.
[Illustration: Fig. 75.
THE STEINWAY IRON FRAME.
(Showing the disposition of the sounding board, bridges, etc.)]
Between 1808, when the Érard action was perfected, and 1832 or 1834,
when Thalberg and Liszt began to revolutionize the art of piano
playing, the instrument was the subject of a great number of
improvements in every direction. The damper mechanism was perfected
between 1821 and 1827; the stringing had been made heavier, the
hammers proportionately stronger, and the power of tone had become
greater. Thus the instrument had become ready for the great
pianists--Liszt having made his first appearance in Vienna in 1823,
and within seven years after having become generally recognized as a
phenomenal appearance in art. Meanwhile, great improvements were
continually carried on for the purpose of rendering the instrument
impervious to the forcible attacks made upon its stability by these
new virtuosi. In the early appearances of Liszt it was necessary to
have several pianos in reserve upon the stage, so that when a hammer
or string broke, which very often happened, another instrument could
be moved forward for the next piece.
The most important improvement in the solidity of the piano came from
the iron frame, which was introduced tentatively, somewhere about
1821, in the form of what is now called a "hitch-pin plate," or half
iron frame. About 1825 an American, Alpheus Babcock, of Philadelphia,
patented a full iron frame, but it was imperfect, and nothing came of
it. Conrad Meyer, of Philadelphia, in 1833, patented an iron frame and
manufactured pianos with it, which are still in existence. In 1837,
Jonas Chickering, of Boston, perfected the iron frame by including in
the single casting the pin bridge and damper socket rail. This
improvement still remains at the foundation of the piano making of the
world. Previous to this invention some of the American piano makers
had constructed their cases upon a solid wooden bottom plank _five
inches thick_. In 1855 the firm of Steinway & Sons exhibited their
first overstrung scale, in which the bass strings were spread out and
carried over a part of the treble strings, thus affording them more
latitude for vibration, without interfering, and bringing the bridges
nearer to the center of the sounding board. The idea of overstringing
was not new at this time, Lichtenberg, of St. Petersburg, having
exhibited a grand piano with overstringing at the London exposition
in 1851, and Theodore Boehm, the celebrated improver of the flute,
having invented an overstrung system for square pianos as early as
1835. In 1853, also, Jonas Chickering combined an iron frame with an
overstrung system in square pianos, the instrument having been
completed and exhibited after his death. The Steinway system of
overstringing, however, was more extended, and solved the acoustical
difficulties of cross-vibrations more successfully by spreading the
long strings, and this, therefore, is the system now generally
followed. The superiority of this principle was immediately
acknowledged, and it has since been applied to grands and uprights,
and few makers in the world but follow it in their work. Many minor
improvements have been introduced in America by Steinway & Sons and
others, whereby the artistic qualities and the durability of the best
American pianos are now generally acknowledged throughout the world.
The solidity of construction is such that with a compass of seven and
one-third octaves the tension of the strings amounts to about 50,000
pounds avoirdupois. The hammers are larger and heavier, the action
more responsive, and the singing quality and sustaining power has
reached remarkable perfection. Perhaps the most curious and important
of all American improvements in this direction is the so-called
"duplex scale" of Steinway & Sons, patented in 1872, in which a
fraction of the string is made to vibrate sympathetically, thereby
strengthening the super-octave harmonic, and imparting to the tone a
brightness and sweetness not so well secured in any other way at
present known.
If space permitted it would be interesting to follow the course by
which the difficulties of the upright piano have at length been
surmounted, and the tone of this form of instrument rendered nearly
equal to that of the grand. This was first accomplished by Steinway &
Sons between 1862 and 1878, by a succession of improvements having for
their object, first, the solidity of the instrument, then its prompt
action, together with as much of the tone quality of the grand as
possible. Many other American builders have taken part in this
development, whereby the American pianoforte to-day is the strongest,
the fullest-toned and the most expensively constructed of any in the
world. Still later, quite a number of more or less successful attempts
have been made to increase the stability of the tuning of the
pianoforte by a different system of stringing, the tension of the
strings being regulated by means of a tuning pin of "set-screw"
pattern, working through a collar of steel, instead of being thrust
into a wooden wrest-plank, where it holds fast by friction alone, as
has been the universal way previous to these inventions.
[Illustration]
CHAPTER XXXIV.
GERMAN OPERA; WEBER, MEYERBEER AND WAGNER.
I.
German opera reached an extraordinary development during the
nineteenth century, the distinguishing characteristics being an
extremely full and dramatically conceived treatment of the orchestra,
and a mode of delivering the text partaking of the character of melody
and recitative in about equal proportions, the entire object being to
present the action to the inner consciousness of the beholder in the
most impressive manner possible. In Italian opera, as we have seen,
there was a large development of arias and vocal pieces, whose value
lay in their beauty as melodies and as concerted effect, the action of
the drama being meanwhile delayed sometimes for an entire half hour,
while these pieces were going on. In Germany the effort to improve the
delivery of the text and to bring it into closer union with the
orchestra, and to develop the music from a dramatic standpoint
exclusively, led to the vocal form known as _arioso_, or, to use
Wagner's term, "endless melody," in which the successive periods
follow each other to the end of the paragraph, or the end of the
piece, without a full stop at any point until the end of the sense is
reached. The great master of this form of composition was Richard
Wagner, who may be regarded as the exponent of the extreme development
yet reached by German opera. Wagner's endless melody proposed to
itself the same ideal as that of Gluck, but it is only at rare moments
that one will find in the music of the later master the symmetrical
periods of the Gluck and Mozart epoch. Italian opera, as we have
already seen, carried forward the dialogue mostly in _recitativo-secco_,
that is to say, in a recitative following more or less successfully
the modulations of speech, and accompanied only by detached chords
marking the emphatic moments. This form of vocal delivery has the
slightest possible musical interest, and the Germans almost
immediately endeavored to improve it, as also did some of the Italian
masters, the first result being _recitativo-stromentato_, or
instrumented recitative, viz., recitative in which the text is
accompanied by a flowing and more or less descriptive orchestral
accompaniment. This differs essentially from the descriptive
recitative in the works of the Mozart or Gluck period, or even in
those of Haydn's later time. In the "Creation," for example, the
descriptive recitative consists of vocal phrases with instrumental
phrases interspersed, in dialogue form. The voice announces a certain
fact and the orchestra immediately answers with a musical phrase
corresponding to it, as, for example, in the recitative describing the
creation of the world, where the phrase relating to the horse is
immediately answered by an orchestral gallop; that of the tiger by
certain slides and leaps in the melody remotely answering it; while
the roar of the lion is immediately answered by a vigorous snort of
the bass trombone. This is by no means of the same nature as the
dramatic _arioso_ of German opera during the nineteenth century.
Händel came nearer to this type of musical formation, for example, in
the "Messiah," at the recitative describing the appearance of the
angels to the shepherds, where, after a phrase of unaccompanied
recitative, the appearance of the angels is signified by an
accompanied and measured strain, "And lo, the angel of the Lord came
upon them."
This development of opera in the nineteenth century has been carried
forward by the successive efforts of a considerable number of masters,
among whom the three most important are Weber, Meyerbeer and Wagner,
each of whom created a type of opera peculiar to himself, and left
something as an addition to the permanent stock of musical dramatic
ideas.
[Illustration: Fig. 76.
CARL MARIA VON WEBER.]
II.