Arnold Krug, born 1849 at Hamburg, has written an interesting symphonic prologue to this play. After the usual slow introduction, we start away with a good, quick, syncopated theme for strings, soon added to by wood wind (evidently the fiery Othello). Then comes the gentle Desdemona theme, which persists for a long time, after which the music gets really exciting. Iago works Othello up to a frenzy of jealousy; Desdemona's gentle explanations are overborne. After a strong climax her end comes, followed shortly afterwards by Othello's. The coda is a shortmorendoepisode, in the major, and very peaceful.
Though this work is by no manner of means great, it is not without interest, and it is one of the few purely abstract compositions we have on this play.
Zdenko Fibich, who has composed a very interesting symphonic poem on the theme, was a leader of the "Young Czech" musical movement. He was born on December 21, 1850, at Seborschity, near Tschlau, and was taught music at Prague and Leipsic. This is his first symphonicpoem, but it is a very interesting example of the composer's method.
Though there is no definite programme, Fibich quotes several passages from the play to indicate his intentions. The first is:—
... Rude am I in my speech,And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace.
Here there is a fanfare for trumpets and horns working into a strong, rough military march. Music descriptive of Othello's many adventures follows, until he says:—
This only is the witchcraft I have us'd—Here comes the lady; let her witness it.
Then the Desdemona melody, oboe solo, harp, and strings, makes its appearance. This is really a beautiful theme, perfectly orchestrated, and it just expresses Desdemona's character. Her words, written in the score, are: "I saw Othello's visage in his mind; And to his honours and his valiant parts Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate." Presently comes Iago with his "jealousy"motif, which struggles for a long time with Desdemona's "innocent" theme, but finally wins. The music is intensely dramatic here: the clash of wills, Iago's and Othello's, and the sweet personality of Desdemona, all struggling for predominance. Finally the trombone and tuba blaze out,fortissimoandgrandioso, the jealousy theme in octaves. The music dies away, and for the last time the Desdemona melody is heard verypiano. Four short, violentlyfortebars follow (the brass having the theme), and the work ends with a solopianissimochord on the harp. The end is most curious, such an immense amount of meaning being got into the last fifteen bars. The whole work makes a fine piece of vivid orchestral tone-painting, and the music distinctly derives from Shakespeare's text, and is worthy of it. The last words quoted are Othello's: "I kissed thee ere I killed thee;—no way but this, Killing myself, to die upon a kiss."
Sir Herbert Tree commissionedSamuel Coleridge Taylorto write the music for his revival ofOthelloat His Majesty's. The composer has made a suite for orchestra out of the numbers written for this production. The first section is called just a Dance. This is strictly Oriental in character, full of movement and excitement. The second number is a "Children's Intermezzo," and is very simple in character. No touch of the Orient here. No. 3 is a Funeral March in G minor, mostly written on two ground basses, one for the march and one for the trio. It is a fine broad movement, working up to a great climax in the middle and dying away very effectively afterwards. The setting of the famous "Willow Song" is simple and beautiful.
The play ofRichard III.has not attracted musicians. I can only trace one opera founded on it—that by the French composer,Gervais Bernard Salvayre, produced 1883 at Petrograd. This work was a dead failure, its chief faults—noisiness and an amalgamation of different styles, from Meyerbeer to Verdi—being so prominent that it was only performed a few times. Concerning two other works, which I have not been able to find, a few baredataare given below.
Of incidental music, specially composed, much has been written, but most of it is unimportant. Many producers seem to have been content with a funeral march and a liberal use of fanfares; but the late Richard Mansfield, the Anglo-American actor-manager, had the good sense to commissionEdward Germanto compose the music for his production at the Globe in 1889, and the result is a fine overture and some very effective and appropriate incidental music.
The overture is in strict form. It opensmaestoso, the Richard III. theme being given outforte. It is a sinister subject, well suited to the character Shakespeare drew, if not in agreement with our modern whitewashing historians. After this short introduction the overture proper starts, with Richard'smotifon the violins,allegro molto, accompanied bytremolostrings. This is worked up to a finefortissimo, and prepares the way for the second theme, "The Princes." Here we have a tender melody, again suited to the author's picture of the characters, but not at alllike the horrible little prigs one generally sees in these parts in the theatre. Personally I have every sympathy with Richard for killing the Princes whenever I see them on the stage! This theme is worked up to a fine climax, and then the very clever development begins. The subjects are well mixed and blended, and the overture comes to an end in a very brilliant manner.
In the incidental music the first number is the King Henry theme, a plaintive minor melody; then the Lady Annemotif, also plaintive, but not minor. The Lord Mayor theme is a mock dignified march, marked "quaintly" in the score. The number called "On the Way to Chertsey" is in the "Old English style," and foreshadows the famous "Henry VIII. Dances" that followed. "In the Tower" is naturally sombre, very ominous and fateful. The "Entrance of the young Duke of York" is a pretty, boyish, scherzo-like little number; and "In Baynard Castle" is a serious, organ-like piece of music all on a pedal, and rather like a conventional postlude. "Richmond's March" is also serious, and is marked "religiose," an allusion to his well-known habit of praying!
The processional march, played as Queen Elizabeth and train enter the Tower, is a fine, pompous, thoroughly English march, as is fitting for the occasion; and the "Intermezzo Funèbre," played as King Henry's funeral procession approaches, is all its name promises. The work ends with a short "Victory theme." This score, which was the first incidental music written by Edward German, then musical director at the Globe, made quite a sensation, and abundantly justified Mansfield's selection of his composer.
Frederick Smetana, born March 2, 1824, perhaps the greatest Bohemian musician, wrote a great symphonic poem on this play. It is a very elaborate work and laid out for a very large orchestra. The composer gives no definite programme, but the music throughout is very dramatic and full of tragic interest. After a few quiet introductorybars the basses give out the principal theme quietly, but working quickly up to afortissimo.
This subject, with slight changes, dominates the entire work; it is a grim, characteristic, sinister theme, and a splendid one to develop. Almost immediately it has been announced the answeringmotif, plaintive and melodious, follows, and for a long time these are the only subjects used. After a good working-up, a four-note figure of the theme is taken by itself and developed into a great march tune, typical of the King in his pomp. After this, one new subject is introduced—a breathless, syncopated,agitatophrase, which, worked up with the other theme, develops into a magnificent coda, marked "vittorioso" in the score—victory for Richmond, I suppose. The last few bars are again grim, the same four notes from Richard's theme broken in upon by two sharpfortissimochords.
This is indeed a welcome addition to our scanty stock ofRichard III.music. It is a symphonic poem in the grand manner, and worthy to stand with the greatest works in that class. This work was first performed in England at the first Henschel concert, St James's Hall, November 12, 1896.
All that is known of an opera bearing the impressive title ofRicardus Impius, Angliæ Rex, ab Henrico Richmondæ Comite vita simul et regno exitus, is that it was a drama in Latin, music by Jean d'Eberlin, and was produced by the students of the Benedictine convent at Salzburg on September 4, 1750. The composer,Johann Ernst Eberlin, was born at Jettingen, Bavaria, 1702, and died at Salzburg, Austria, in 1762. He was Court organist to the Prince Bishop of the latter town, and chief organist to the Cathedral. He composed an immense amount of church and organ music.
The other work unknown to me isCanepa'sRiccardo III.(Milan, 1879).
It is a curious fact that, thoughRomeo and Julietcontains more exquisite lyrical passages than almost any other play of Shakespeare, there is no song or lyric in it.
Anyone except Romeo would have hired a quartet, or anyway, one singer, to serenade Juliet under her balcony; but she remains unserenaded. Even the four lines beginning "When griping grief" (sung by Peter in Act iv., Scene 4) are not Shakespeare's, but quoted by him from Richard Edwards'sParadise of Daintee Devices, and sung to a so-called traditional tune. But if there is no song like "Sigh no more, ladies," or "Who is Sylvia?", there is little doubt that a greater number of composers have been inspired (more or less) by this tragedy than by any other of Shakespeare's subjects if we exceptHamlet. A mere list of the names is imposing. The most popular work is, no doubt, Gounod's operaRoméo et Juliette. The book, which adheres fairly closely to the original play, is by Barbier and Carré, and the work was first performed at the Lyrique, Paris, on April 27, 1867. The characters are the same as those of Shakespeare's play, with the addition of Stephano, page to Romeo (mez. sop.), and Gregorio, a watchman. The waltz in Act i. is a very popularcoloraturasoprano song, but is not in the least the kind of thing the real Capulet would have allowed the real Juliet to sing to his guests. Mercutio's Queen Mab scena is very effective, as are the Balcony duet and the prelude to the fifth act. But the most successful and to my mind the most Shakespearian character in the whole opera is Friar Laurence, a conception full of dignity and pathos. Pol Plançon wasmagnificent in this part. Taken altogether, Gounod has turned out a very successful French grand opera, which will hold its place in opera repertories for many years to come.
The only other opera on this story that has had any great success isBellini'swork in three acts,I Capuletti ed i Montecchi, book by Romani, produced at Venice, March 11, 1830. It is a real Bellini, full of florid arias, word repetitions, bravura passages, cadenzas, and all the vocal gymnastics so beloved of his period; but the music, as a whole, would fit any story quite as badly as it does that of Romeo and Juliet. The overture is rather curious. The first subject, second subject, development, recapitulation, and coda are all in the same key, that of D major. The effect is overwhelming. It is a perfect tonic orgy. An amusing account of this opera is given by Berlioz in hisAutobiography. During the time he held the Prix de Rome, passing through Florence, he heard some strangers at atable d'hôtetalking of Bellini'sMontecchi, which was soon to be given. He writes: "Not only did they praise the music, but also the libretto. Italians as a rule care so little for the words of an opera that I was surprised, and thought—at last I shall hear an opera worthy of that glorious play. What a subject it is! Simply made for music. The ball at Capulet's house, where young Romeo first sees his dearly loved one; the street fight at which Tybalt presides, patron of anger and revenge; that indescribable night-scene at Juliet's balcony; the witty sallies of Mercutio; the prattle of the Nurse; the solemnity of the Friar trying to soothe the conflicting elements; the awful catastrophe; and the reconciliation of the rival families over the bodies of the ill-fated lovers. I hurried to the Pergola Theatre. What a disappointment! No ball, no Mercutio, no babbling Nurse, no balcony scene, no Shakespeare! And Romeo sung by a smallthinwoman, Juliet by a tall stout one. Why, in the name of all things musical—why?"
I will just enumerate the remainder of the operatic settings, giving date and place of production and names of composer and librettist. It is rather a formidable list, but one never hears any of the works mentioned, save those of Steibelt and Vaccaj, at the outside; and as for Bellini's version, it would scarcely be possible to hear it anywhere out of Italy.
Romeo e Giulietta, a serious opera in three acts, byZingarelli, was composed in Milan and first performed in that city (1796). It was produced in Paris in 1812, and had some success. Nicolò Antonio Zingarelli was born in Naples, 1752. He was celebrated in his lifetime, and was thought much of by Haydn, who prophesied a great career for him. According to Coppa, his librettist, he wrote the opera in "forty hours less than ten days." He composed a cantata for the Birmingham Festival of 1829, and, as he could not take it to England himself, entrusted it to his pupil Costa. This was Michael Costa's first introduction to the English public. Hence the Philharmonic pitch and loud orchestral playing from which we suffered for so many years. The two most celebrated numbers in the opera are the duet "Dunque mio ben" for soprano and contralto, and the air "Ombra adorata aspetta." The Emperor Napoleon I. was unable to hide his emotion when he heard this song, especially when sung by Crescentini (Romeo); who achieved so great a success with this melody that he persuaded himself that he was the real composer. This fable obtained, very unjustly, some credence from the general public. The last time the Emperor heard Crescentini sing this song he was so affected that he sent him from his own breast the Order of the Iron Crown, and gave the composer an order for a Mass for the Imperial Chapel that should not last longer than twenty minutes. He had it rehearsed in his presence, and was so pleased that he gave the musician 6000 francs. Zingarelli was an enormously productive composer, and wrote a great number of operas, as well as quantities of church and chamber music, but oneseldom hears his name now. His music is still sung in provincial Catholic churches.
Roméo et Juliette, an opera in three acts, book by M. de Ségur, music byDaniel Steibelt, was produced at the Theatre Feydeau, 1793, just four months after the production of a work on the same subject by Monnel and Dalayrac,All for Love, orRoméo et Juliette. In spite of this clashing, the opera was a success. It had been refused by the Academy of Music, so the authors cut the recitatives, put in prose dialogue, and produced the piece as anopéra comique. TheMoniteurof September 23 describes the music as "learned, but laboured and ugly." However, the public loved it, and other critics say it had power and originality and distinguished voluptuous melody. Juliette's song, "The calm of the night," and the quartet, "Graces, virtues," held their own for a long time; as did the funeral chorus at the end of the second act.
In 1825, at the Théâtre Italien de Paris, in Milan,Nicolò Vaccajproduced his opera on the same subject. It is one of the composer's best efforts, the finest scene being that at the tomb. The air, "Ah, se tu dormi svegliati," is pathetic and passionate. The last act of this work is often substituted for the last act of the Bellini opera already dealt with, as the latter composer's fourth act is very weak. Nicolò Vaccaj was born at Tolentino in 1790. He spent some years in London, where he was a very successful singing teacher. He wrote a great amount of music, but none of it is very distinguished.
TheMarquis Richard d'Ivrycomposed an opera on this subject, produced in Paris in 1878. He was a gifted amateur, born, February 4, 1829, at Beaune (Côte-d'Or), and composed several other operas. This one was dedicated to Edward VII. when he was Prince of Wales, and was calledLes Amants de Verone, a lyric drama in five acts, words and music by d'Ivry. The music, not at allambitious, is tuneful and simple. The most important number is the farewell duet between Romeo and Juliet in the second act. A critic, writing of this work, says: "It is a pity that the author has not corrected in his poem those vulgar expressions that disfigure it, and in his music those old-fashioned formulas (peu nouvelles)." As I have only the piano solo copy before me, I cannot speak on the first complaint; but on the second I agree with the critic. The work is amateurish and old-fashioned, often in the abusive sense of the word, but it is certainly melodious and generally unpretentious. Each act has quite a pretty and effective prelude, and the occasional dances are graceful.
Pietro Carlo Guglielmi'sopera on this play,Romeo e Giulietta, was produced in London in 1810. The composer was born at Naples in 1763. There are several detached numbers in the British Museum Library. They are just the ordinary Italian opera music of the time. The wonder of the story does not seem to have made the slightest impression on the composer, who proceeds calmly on his conventional way, after one interesting burst of originality: he actually makes Romeo a bass baritone! After this one is not so surprised to find Juliet a deep mezzo, nearly a contralto. To make up for the lack of tenor interest, the part of Paris is made quite important, and among other numbers he is given a very effective duet with Juliet. One of Juliet's songs is described as "The Favourite Prayer," and is quite a good example of the conventional operatic music of the period; as is Romeo's song with chorus, in which he strives to quiet the street-quarrel between the rival houses. The love duets with Juliet are thoroughly vocal; and the trios, called "Favourite" again, for the lovers and the Friar, and for Bianca and the lovers, are pretty melodious stuff, but utterly lacking any sense of drama.
Of the non-operatic works on this subject,Berlioz'ssymphonyRomeo and Julietis by far the greatest.During the six years that Hector Berlioz was a student at the Paris Conservatoire, the two influences that affected him and his work most, according to his own memoirs, were those of William Shakespeare and Ludwig van Beethoven. It is interesting and strange that perhaps the greatest of all French musicians should have been so profoundly moved by the plays of an English poet and the music of a Dutch musician. I speak of Beethoven here intentionally as Dutch, because his father was Dutch, and had only lived in Germany two years when Beethoven was born; and I consider that a man takes his nationality from his father and not from his actual birthplace. Beethoven could certainly have played cricket for the Rhineland on a strict birth qualification; but he was distinctly of Dutch blood, and took the precaution of leaving Germany for Austria as soon as he could. Finally came another influence to drive Berlioz further into the arms of Shakespeare but not of Beethoven—also a foreign one, that of Henrietta Smithson, the Irish actress. She was playing Shakespeare heroines at the Odeon early in 1833. He fell madly in love with her and went to see her whenever she played, just as our modern gilded youths haunt the stalls every night to see their favourite musical-comedy actress; the only difference being that Berlioz saw his dear one in many different and exquisite characters, while our youths hear their favourites say the same few lines or sing the same little song every night of the year. Berlioz composed music for her and gave concerts of his own compositions in her honour (the latter must have bored her very much, judging from the attitude of the average actress towards serious music—and Miss Smithson, from all accounts, was not a great actress); and finally he married her. They lived together as unhappily as possible for several years, and then parted; but at least one great art work was the result of their union: I mean the Fifth Symphony. "Roméo et Juliette, symphonic dramatique avec choeurs, solos de chant, et prologue en récitatif choral, op. 17," to give it its full title, was finished in 1838, produced in 1839 at the Conservatoire, andrepeated three times within a short period. The work had a very mixed reception. Berlioz was never popular in Paris or among his own countrymen; but all admitted that the general conception was colossal. It is now regarded as a classic throughout the world, but it is a big undertaking to produce. Little bits of it "would never please" asentr'actesor incidental music to a production of the play in London. The words are by Berlioz, inspired by Shakespeare, and versified by Emil Deschamps; and the work is dedicated to Paganini, who a little earlier had presented Berlioz with twenty thousand francs to show his admiration for the earlier Symphonie Fantastique. Berlioz says in his autobiography: "I remember in one of my Campagna rides with Mendelssohn (this was during his tenure of the Prix de Rome) expressing my surprise that no one had ever written a scherzo on Shakespeare's sparkling little poem,Queen Mab. He, too, was surprised, and I was very sorry I had put the idea into his head. For years I lived in dread that he had used it: for he would have made it impossible, or at any rate very risky, for anyone to attempt to do it after him. Luckily he forgot." This was a very generous tribute to Mendelssohn's power as a fairy-music composer, coming from a musician in no very great sympathy with his style.
This symphony is scored for a very large orchestra. The first movement consists of a fine musical imitation of a street fight, culminating in the entrance of the Prince (on the full bass), who stops the fight. Then comes a choral prologue for contraltos and basses, giving a rough idea of the plot. Then a Queen Mab scene for tenor and chorus, and a great concert and ball given at the Capulets'. This finishes the second part. The third part is the love scene (Balcony scene as we call it) in Capulet's garden. There is some very exquisite love-music here; and the whole movement, which is really the so-called "slow movement" of the conventional symphony, is very beautiful. The fourth section (Scherzo) is called "Queen Mab," and is one of those delicate, gossamer, fairylike works in which Berliozso excels. Then come choral music for the funeral cortege of Juliet, and Romeo's invocation at the tomb of the Capulets. The finale takes place in the graveyard: Montagues and Capulets are both there, Friar Laurence explains everything, and there is reconciliation between the rival houses, ending in their swearing over the graves to be friends for ever. I know this is a very bald account. The work should be heard to be understood fairly; but a very interesting couple of hours can be spent by a musician on the full score of this work in the British Museum reading-room. The text is given in both French and German. Wagner, in his letters from Paris, 1841, says of Berlioz: "He has no friend deemed worthy to be asked for counsel, none he would permit to draw his notice to this or that sin against form in his works. In regard to this, I was filled with regret by a hearing of his symphony,Roméo et Juliette. Amid the most brilliant inventions, this work is heaped with such a mass of trash and solecisms that I could not repress the wish that Berlioz had shown this composition before performance to some such man as Cherubini, who, without doing its originality the slightest harm, would certainly have had the wit to rid it of a quantity of disfigurements.... Wherefore Berlioz will always remain imperfect, and, maybe, shine as nothing but a transient marvel." There is some sound though exaggerated criticism in these sentences; but Wagner could not have known on what sort of terms Cherubini and Berlioz were. That the latter could submit a work for correction to the former is impossible for anyone knowing anything about their personal and artistic relations to consider for a moment. Still, the personal criticism of one great composer by another is always interesting and informing.
Tschaikowsky's Overture-Fantaisie,Roméo et Juliette, is scored for an ordinary symphony orchestra with horn and harp. It is very modern and very emotional, and at times almost hysterical. The work begins in a quasi-organ manner, but the first subject is very bold. Whetherit is to express Montague or Capulet I don't know. It seems too robust to express my idea of Romeo, but it may be Tschaikowsky's. The second subject is obviously Juliet, and the two themes are developed to the end, which, curiously enough, for the last few bars is quite lively. The work makes a very interesting contrast to Berlioz, but I suspect that the great Frenchman had a deeper insight into Shakespeare's poem than the Russian. Tschaikowsky's work could be done without any mention of Romeo and Juliet or Shakespeare; Berlioz's could not.
Joseph Joachim Raff, a composer whose name is unfortunately mostly associated with the well-known or notorious Cavatina, is a much underrated man. He was an indefatigable worker and an outstanding example of the fatuity of Carlyle's definition of genius. Undoubtedly Raff was no genius, but he was a composer of far from common ability. His four Shakespearian overtures, of which the one toRomeo and Julietis the first, are all most interesting. They are not absolute programme music. They give the idea more than the story, but are none the worse for that. The Romeo overture opens with a fine broad theme for the horns, swiftly followed by a somewhat suave melody for the strings, the other instruments gradually joining in. The middle part is quite tragic, and the whole is carried out to a well-constructed finish. Without achieving great music, Raff rises to certain heights in this overture.
Hugo Pierson'sconcert overtureRomeo and Juliet, op. 86, is very interesting, but not so much so as his symphonic poemMacbeth, which I described at some length in an earlier section. Composed for a large orchestra, it opens with a shortallegro appassionatointroduction; but this soon changes to a graceful theme typical of the luxurious life of Verona, broken in upon occasionally by suggestion of the hate between the rival houses of Montague and Capulet. This is followed by an amorous subject typical of Romeo, and by a gay theme for the great dance. TheBalcony scene is beautifully portrayed. The remainder of the music becomes high tragedy, and it remains so till the very end. The overture is quite short and not so difficult as most of Pierson's work, and it is full of melody and broad orchestral effects. The themes are all original, as is their treatment, and the tonality is interesting though difficult to follow.
Edward Germancomposed the whole of the music for Forbes-Robertson's production ofRomeo and Julietat the Lyceum, September 1895, and also dedicated it to him. It is a complete piece of work, admirably carried out and suited for the occasion. It opens with a fine sombre prelude, showing the atmosphere of hate which was brooding over the otherwise pleasant town of Verona. This feeling of hate and the love-music are the two most important themes in the prelude, which finishes up with six bars,religioso, to suggest the tomb. For the remainder of the music Mr German has himself made a selection of themes containing all that is of the most importance. The curtain music for the first act is a broad theme in common time, which serves to open the scene and is otherwise harmless. Then comes the Petermotif—a good Old English comedy theme with an excellent descending bass. The March which follows is a thoroughly good Old English march of the kind to which Mr German has accustomed us. The Capulets' Reception music and Juliet's theme (I am quoting Mr German) are graceful six-eight numbers, and if taken a little faster than marked would make excellent Old English country dances. Even at the proper time one expects to see shepherds, not great ladies and gentlemen. The Lovemotifis sombre enough—Mr German never seems to give his lovers time to be happy; but the Nurse theme is a real bit of German at his best, and is very welcome. The music for Paris at the tomb of Juliet is necessarily sad, and the Death theme, the last number, is quite in keeping with the end of Shakespeare's tragedy. There is a charming nocturne which makes a very effectiveentr'acte, delicately scored and very original. The Pastoral, again, is a delightful composition. But the best number, to my mind, is the Pavane. Here Mr German has got the real Romeo-Juliet-Shakespeare atmosphere, and in this simple dance has done more to express in music what Shakespeare was showing to us than in his complicated prelude or in the rest of the incidental music. This Pavane is a real gem.
Joseph Holbrooke'spoem for chorus and orchestra,Queen Mab, was first performed at the Leeds Festival in 1904. The chorus part isad lib., but if properly performed makes a very effective addition to the fairly large orchestra that Mr Holbrooke has scored for. The opening is in the guise of a scherzo, very brilliant and difficult; then comes a long slow episode; then much development; and finally the entrance of the chorus. The time isadagio, and the words begin, "Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon," ending six lines afterwards. These lines are repeated again and again, quite in the so-called old-fashioned style; the chorus dies away; and the orchestra finishes the work with a codafortissimo. Queen Mab has long since disappeared.
Johann Severin Svendsen, born 1840, Christiania, wrote aRomeo and Julietoverture, but there is no copy of it in the British Museum.
The following operas are mentioned in Mr Barclay Squire's interesting article on Shakespearian operas, from the bookHomage to Shakespeare, 1916. As they more or less complete the list, I mention them; but I cannot find copies of them or any reference as to their comparative merits, or otherwise:—Dramma per Musica, in 2 acts, pub. Berlin in 1773, with no composer's name; opera by Benda, Gotha, 1776; T. G. Schwanenberg, Leipzig, 1776; L. Marescalchi, Rome, 1789; Von Rumling, Munich, 1790; Porta, Paris, 1806; Schuster, Vienna,1809. This article gives a fairly complete list of the music inspired by our play. It seems curious that with so magnificent a theme only one composer—Berlioz, of course—should have risen to absolutely supreme heights. I suppose his work is performed very occasionally; whereas Gounod's is in every operatic repertory in the world.
This play seems, on the whole, to have been very much avoided by musicians. There must be a certain amount of music in any work of Shakespeare, but producers appear to have been content to use old stuff and adapt it for this piece.Noel Johnsonwrote some very pretty music for the Asche-Brayton production; but Sir Frank Benson's version had hardly any music in it: just a dance (the beautiful Rigadoon, by Rameau), a gavotte by Handel, and a song by Sir Henry Bishop, "Should he upbraid"—words not from theShrew, nor even by Shakespeare.
A musical version, chiefly byBrahamandT. S. Cooke, was produced in London in 1828. But the really important work on the subject isHermann Goetz'sopera,Der Widerspenstigen Zähmung, produced at Mannheim, 1874, book by Joseph Victor Erdmann. This work is Goetz's only complete opera, as, unfortunately for music, he died at the early age of thirty-five, in the height of his powers. HisTaming of the Shrewis still in the repertory of the German opera-houses.
The characters have the same names as in the play—Katharina and Bianca, sopranos; Hortensio and Lucentio, bass and tenor; Baptista and Grumio, basses; the Tailor, tenor; and Petruchio, baritone.
The work begins with a full concert overture, a capital number, which would make an excellent opening for any production of the play. The themes are bold, striking, and original, though the composer shows throughout thestrong influence of Schumann. The opera is in four acts, the first taking place in a street outside Baptista's house. Lucentio, with guitar, is singing a sentimental ballad, occasionally interrupted by Baptista's servants, who rush from the house singing "The Devil is loose in the house." Baptista asks them what is the matter, and the servants at once give notice on account of Katharina's outrageous behaviour. There is nothing much of Shakespeare in this act, but it makes a brilliant opening to the opera. Katharina then comes on the balcony and tells the people how good she is going to be. The neighbours all join in, and there is a beautiful bit of choral work for principals, neighbours, and chorus. All exit except Lucentio; the chorus in the house sing an unaccompanied sort of evening hymn, the music dies away, the lights in Baptista's house go out, and Lucentio serenades Bianca.
Presently she appears on the balcony, and they sing a beautiful love duet, say good-night, and exit. Hortensio arrives to serenade her also, and quarrels with Lucentio, and the pair of them make such a noise that they waken poor old Baptista, who appears at the house door in his dressing-gown, with a light, still wondering if he will ever get any peace. Petruchio enters to a very blustering tune (the Petruchiomotif, I call it). They make themselves known to each other, and Petruchio, in a beautiful and melodious song, describes his deeds in the past, just as in the play, and says what a poor opinion he has of the power of a woman's tongue. The act ends very happily, with Petruchio promising to woo and win Katharina.
The second act starts with a short prelude,sostenutoand slow, and as the curtain goes up Katharina and Bianca begin their quarrel scene, mostly on the former's part. Bianca produces a guitar and plays, while her sister says she will live and die a maid. Petruchio enters and woos the Shrew in a dramatic duet, and the act closes with a fineensemblefor the principals.
The third act opens, after hardly any orchestral introduction, with a quartet for Bianca, Lucentio, Hortensio,and Baptista, lamenting the absence of the bridegroom. Katharina joins in, very scornful about him, and the wedding guests enter, singing how difficult it is to have a wedding without a bridegroom. Then comes the familiar lesson scene. Lucentio sings the first lines of the first book of theÆneid, with his own additions. Hortensio also sings to his guitar—a method of music-teaching that even Bianca can see through; and then Baptista enters, and, in a very lively number, gives the news of Petruchio's return. He arrives, more bluff and hearty than ever, clad in eccentric clothes, and hurries his bride-to-be to the church. The domestics of Baptista's house sing a chorus, showing how glad they are that Katharina is finally married and got rid of. The bridal party returns, and Petruchio announces his intention of departing at once. The close of the act must be very effective, according to the stage directions, when properly done. Grumio brings in two horses. Petruchio springs on one, Grumio rides off on the second, the chorus and principals singing lustily the while.
The fourth and last act opens with a male chorus, Petruchio's servants being bullied by Grumio, awaiting their master's return. The bridal pair make a fine entrance, and, as in the play, the husband finds fault with all the food, and sends it away. Katharina is left alone, and sings a beautiful and pathetic soliloquy on her difficult position. Grumio introduces the Tailor, and there is a very amusing quartet for the four. After this the action is much hurried. The changed Katharina arrives at her father's house; her father congratulates his son-in-law on the admirable way in which he has reformed Katharina; everyone is pleased, especially the servants of Baptista, and the whole work ends with a joyousensemble, making a very brilliant close to the opera.
The opera was refused by innumerable managers, but was finally staged by Ernst Frank at Mannheim, 1874, where its success was immediate and decisive. The next year it was performed at Vienna, Leipsic, Berlin, and otherGerman towns, and it was also produced in London at a matinée at Drury Lane, October 12, 1878. In 1880 it was revived by the Carl Rosa Company at Her Majesty's, Minnie Hauk taking the part of Katharina. It very well deserves a revival at the present day. Every note of it would be fresh to nine hundred and ninety-nine opera-goers out of a thousand. All the parts are good, and ample scope is given for brilliant singing.
Of all the playsThe Tempesthas been most popular with musicians. The earliest music toThe Tempestis generally believed to be byRobert Johnson, who wrote settings of "Where the bee sucks" and "Full fathom five." TheEncyclopædia Britannicais quite definite on the subject; but as Johnson was born in 1604, and Shakespeare died in 1616, and had left off writing plays for several years before his death, Johnson must, as I said in the Introduction, have been something of a musical prodigy.
The next in order seems to beMatthew Locke'sinstrumental music to an operatic version ofThe Tempest(based on Dryden-Davenant), played in London in 1673. This work was revived and revised with additional numbers byHenry Purcellin 1695. The exquisite "Come unto these yellow sands" was one of the additional numbers. In both of these adaptations the words are very much altered, or "improved," as the theatre people of the time thought; but a very good hotch-potch version can be made by taking the best numbers mentioned, scoring them lightly, and having them sung simply and not operatically.
Arne's"Where the bee sucks" is his best work, and, I think, the most beautiful of all the settings.
John Christopher Smith, Handel's pupil and amanuensis, composed two operas onThe Tempest, one of which was produced in London in 1756. The overture is the usualone of the period; but Ariel's storm song, which opens the first act, beginning with a long orchestral prelude, is a very original piece of work. It is a dramatic recitative with elaborate orchestral accompaniment to the words, slightly adapted, from Ariel's speech to Prospero in Act i., Scene 2. The following numbers have no connection with Shakespeare's play, a delightful setting of "Come unto these yellow sands," for Ariel, being the next Shakespearian lyric taken—this for high soprano with strings, very florid but melodious; and the music for "Full fathom five" is also very much in keeping with the words. Caliban (baritone) sings "No more dams I'll make for fish" to a rollicking tune, and follows it with a curious song called "The owl is abroad." The words are not by Shakespeare, but it is said that it was a great favourite with audiences.
Ariel's song, "Before you can say come and go," is very gracefully set, and has a charmingobbligatopart for the violin; but Prospero's recitative, "Now doth my project gather to a head," is Shakespeare's blank verse set to music. The duet ends peacefully and happily with a duet for Ferdinand and Miranda about "gentle love, innocence, and chaste desire." On the whole the work is disappointing. One could have done with a little more Shakespeare and less of Christopher Smith's own librettist; but it contains much charming music, some of which would sound very fresh if revived now.
John Davy, a West-countryman, born at Exeter, 1763, composed an overture and other music forThe Tempest. It is dedicated to the memory of John Philip Kemble, and includes songs by Arne, Purcell, and Linley. The overture is a very simple affair, bringing in Purcell's "Where the bee sucks" and "Come unto these yellow sands," and is, therefore, not so independent of the rest of the music as the overture of this period usually is.
After the overture comesLinley'sgraceful setting of "O, bid your faithful Ariel fly," sung in Prospero's caveby Ariel (the words by Dr Laurence). Then follows a very simple so-called symphony by Davy, all very quiet and peaceful, going into Linley's horrible "Storm Chorus." Christopher Smith's Caliban song is introduced after the "Storm"—"No more dams I'll make for fish," which has a very cheerful tune; and Purcell's beautiful settings of "Come unto these yellow sands" and "Full fathom five" follow. Between Acts i. and ii. Davy introduced a symphony by himself, consisting of a very simple Largo, followed by an equally simple Rondo. The song and chorus that follow are by Purcell, to words by Dryden, beginning "King Fortune smiles," which, like the next song by the same authors, are too interesting to pass over in silence, though neither has any real connection with Shakespeare. The music for the appearance of Fairies is by Purcell, to words by Dryden, "Where does the black fiend ambition reside?", and is for two bass voices and chorus, with an interesting solo bassoon part.
The opening of the third act consists of a very pretty symphony by Davy, in the form of an air with variations. The only musical number in this act consists of a song, very grotesque in style, for Caliban, words by Ben Jonson, music by Christopher Smith. The prelude to the fourth act is in march rhythm, a pleasant, cheerful piece of music, composed by Davy. The setting of "Where the bee sucks" is Arne's delightful one, and is sung by Ariel, repeated by a quartet, with added words and the music much elaborated, while, according to the stage directions, Ariel and the spirits ascend into the sky. This is the last number, but the untiring Linley has added an appendix consisting of two songs for Ariel, "While you here do snoring lie" and "Ere you can say come and go," and a duet for Juno and Ceres, entitled "Honour, riches, marriage, blessing"; all with words by Shakespeare from this play—quite a concession on the part of a composer of this period, especially of T. Linley himself.