BRAHMS.

BRAHMS.Johannes Brahms, one of the most eminent of living German composers, was born at Hamburg, May 7, 1833. His father was a double-bass player in the orchestra in that city, and devoted his son at a very early age to his own profession. His first piano teacher was Cossell; but to Edward Marxsen, the royal music director, he owes his real success as a composer. Brahms remained in Hamburg until 1853, when he went upon a concert-tour with Reményí, the eccentric and somewhat sensational Hungarian, who has been a familiar figure upon the American concert-stage. He remained with him however but a very short time, for in October of that year they parted company. Brahms had attracted the notice of Liszt and Joachim, and it may have been through their advice that the musical partnership was dissolved. In any event, soon after leaving Reményí he went to Düsseldorf and visited Schumann, who announced him to the musical world in a very enthusiastic manner. The next year (1854) appeared his first works,—three sonatas, a trio and scherzo for piano, and three booksof songs. After a visit to Liszt at Weimar he settled down as chorus-conductor and music-teacher at the court of Lippe-Detmold, where he remained a few years. After leaving Detmold he successively resided in Hamburg, Zürich, and Baden-Baden, though most of his time has been spent in Vienna, where he has directed the Singakademie and the concerts of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde. Among his most famous compositions are a funeral hymn for chorus and wind-band; the “German Requiem;” “Triumphlied,” for double chorus and orchestra; “Schicksalslied,” for chorus and orchestra; six symphonies; variations on a theme of Haydn, for orchestra; the “Tragic” and “Academic” overtures; besides several trios, quartets, quintets, sextets, concertos, and sonatas.Triumphlied.“Triumphlied” (“Song of Triumph”) was written by Brahms in commemoration of the victories of German arms and the re-establishment of the Empire, and is dedicated to “the German Emperor Wilhelm I.” It was first performed at the fifty-first festival of the Lower Rhine at Cologne in 1873. The text is a paraphrase of certain verses in the nineteenth chapter of Revelation, and reads as follows:—“Hallelujah, praise the Lord! Honor and power and glory to God!“For in righteousness and truth the Lord giveth judgment.“Glory be to God, all ye His servants, and ye that fear Him, all both humble and mighty.“Hallelujah, for the omnipotent God hath exalted His kingdom.“O, be joyful, let all be glad, to Him alone give honor.“Behold, the heavens opened wide, and yonder a snow-white horse, and on him sat one called Steadfast and Faithful, who warreth and judgeth all with righteousness.“And he treads the wine-press of wrath of the Lord God Almighty.“Lo! a great name hath he written upon his vesture and upon his girdle.“A King of kings and Lord of lords! Hallelujah! Amen!”The scriptural selections are divided into three movements, written for double chorus (with the exception of two short barytone solos), orchestra, and organ, and are introduced by a brief instrumental prelude of a solemn but animated and exultant character, in the closing measures of which both choirs break in with jubilant shouts of “Hallelujah! praise the Lord!” The theme of the movement is the stirring old German song “Heil dir im Siegerkranz,”[17]which is worked up with consummate skill. The first part closes with a climax ofpower and contrapuntal effect hardly to be found elsewhere outside the choruses of Handel.The second movement (“Glory be to God!”) is of the same general character as the first. After the opening ascription, a short fugue intervenes, leading to a fresh melody alternately sung by both choruses.The third movement, after a very brief but spirited orchestral flourish, opens with an exultant barytone solo (“And behold then the Heavens opened wide”). The choruses respond with animation (“And yonder a snow-white Horse”). Again the barytone intervenes (“And lo! a great Name hath He written”), and then the choruses take up the majestic theme, “King of Kings and Lord of Lords,” each answering the other with triumphant shouts that gather force and fire as they proceed, and closing with a mighty hallelujah in which voices, orchestra, and organ join with fullest power to produce one of the grandest harmonies ever written. The work is one of extreme difficulty, as the two choirs are treated independently and their harmonies are complicated, though blended in general effect. Neither choir receives assistance from the other. In fact, each rank of voices is required to perform music of the most exacting kind, so that a perfect performance of this great jubilee hymn requires singers of trained skill and more than ordinary intelligence. When thus given, few choruses of modern times reveal such artistic richness and symmetrical proportions.[17]A German national song, written by Heinrich Harries, a Holstein clergyman, for the birthday of Christian VII. of Denmark. It was originally in eight stanzas, but was reduced to five and otherwise slightly modified for Prussian use by B. G. Schumacher, and in this form appeared as a “Berliner Volkslied” in theSpenersche Zeitungof Dec. 17, 1793.—Grove’s Dictionary.BRUCH.Max Bruch, one of the most successful choral composers of the present time, was born at Cologne, Jan. 6, 1838. His father was a government official, and his mother a singer of more than ordinary ability. He received his early instructions, under her watchful supervision, from Professor Breidenstein, at Bonn. In 1852 he continued his studies with Hiller, Reinecke, and Breuning, at Cologne; and at this time began to produce compositions which gave unusual promise. In 1865 he was musical director at Coblenz, and subsequently at Berlin, where he conducted the Singakademie. In 1867 he was appointed chapel-master to the Prince of Schwarzburg-Sondershausen,—a post which he held until 1870. Since that time he has also been honored with a call to the directorship of the Liverpool Philharmonic Society. For some years past he has lived at Bonn and Berlin, and devoted himself exclusively to composition. His first public appearance as a composer was in connection with the performance of his operetta, “Scherz, List und Rache,” set to Goethe’s words;following which he produced several chamber compositions, among them a trio (op. 5), two string quartets (op. 9, 10), Capriccio (op. 2) for four hands, Fantasie (op. 11) for two pianos, the G minor and D minor violin concertos, besides two symphonies. He has also written an oratorio, “Arminius,” and two operas, “Loreley,” to the text which the poet Geibel wrote for Mendelssohn, and “Hermione,” an adaptation of Shakspeare’s “Winter’s Tale.” His greatest successes, however, have been made with his works in the cantata form, as he is a recognized master in writing for large masses of voices and instruments, though many of his solo melodies possess great beauty. In this class of his compositions the most conspicuous are “Scenes from the Frithjof-Saga,” familiarly known as “Frithjof,” “Flight of the Holy Family,” “Roman Triumph Song,” “Roman Obsequies,” “Salamis,” “Fair Ellen,” “Odysseus,” and “Rorate Coeli.”Frithjof.The story of the old Norse hero Frithjof is told with exceeding spirit and beauty in the “Frithjof’s Saga” of Esaias Tegnér, Bishop of Wexiö, Sweden, which has been translated into almost every European language, and to which music has been adapted by Crusell, Hedda Wrangel, Boman, Sandberg, Zanders, Caroline Ridderstolpe, Panny, Silcher, and other Scandinavian and German composers. It was Bishop Tegnér’s Saga from which Bruch derivedthe incidents of his musical setting of this stirring Norse theme.[18]To make the text of the libretto intelligible, the incidents leading up to it must be briefly told. Frithjof was the son of Thorstein, a friend of King Bele of Baldershage, and was in love with Ingeborg, the king’s daughter and his foster sister. Bele died, and left his kingdom to his two sons. When Thorstein passed away, he bequeathed to his son his ship “Ellida” and his gold ring. Soon thereafter Frithjof sailed across the fiord to demand the hand of Ingeborg. Her brothers Helge and Halfdan scorned his suit, whereupon Frithjof swore they should never have help from him. King Ring, a neighboring monarch, hearing of the trouble between them, improved the opportunity to menace their kingdom. The brothers appealed to Frithjof for aid, but he turned a deaf ear; and when they took the field against Bele, he returned to Baldershage and made love to Ingeborg, with whom he exchanged rings. Helge and Halfdan were defeated by Ring, and as part of the indemnity he demanded Ingeborg’s hand. Finding upon their return that Frithjof had been there without their permission, they required him as a penalty to go to the Orkneys and collect the tribute which theislanders had neglected to pay since the death of Bele. Frithjof sailed away in “Ellida.” Meanwhile the brothers resorted to witchcraft to raise a storm that should destroy his vessel, burned his barrow, and married the lamenting Ingeborg to Ring.It is at this point that the text of the cantata begins. The first scene pictures the return of Frithjof and his joy at the prospect of seeing Ingeborg, whose hand the false brothers had promised him if he were successful. Learning what had occurred in his absence, Frithjof goes to the temple where the kings are sacrificing, hurls the tribute in Helge’s face, fires the edifice, and hurries to the sea, pursued by his enemies. The hero sails away again in “Ellida,” and becomes a sea-rover. The text closes with this incident. In the Saga, after gaining great fame, Frithjof returns and goes disguised as a salt-burner to Ring’s palace. The king recognized him, and moved by his sad story became his friend and appointed him guardian of his heir. Ring died soon after, and Frithjof married Ingeborg. Helge and Halfdan made war against him, Helge was killed, and Halfdan became his vassal.The cantata opens with an animated instrumental introduction, “Frithjof’s Return,” leading to the barytone recitative and aria (“How bravely o’er the Flood so bright”),—a very expressive song, interspersed with the tender, graceful chorus of his companions (“O, ’tis Delight when the Land far appeareth”). The second scene is preluded with a wedding march, whose blithe measures are inmarked contrast with the bridal chorus (“Sadly the Skald walks before the Train”), and Ingeborg’s song (“My Heart with Sorrow overflowing”), which describes her grief over her unhappy destiny. The third scene (“Frithjof’s Revenge”), for barytone, chorus, and orchestra, is one of great power in its dramatic and descriptive character, as well as in its masterly instrumentation. It begins with a chorus of priests (“Midnight Sun on the Mountain burns”), gradually accelerating until it is interrupted by Frithjof’s cry (“Go to Helas’ dark Abode”). Three bars of chorus intervene (“Woe! O wicked Deed”), when Frithjof, after a short recitative, sings a spirited aria (“Where my Father rests”). At its close, as he rescues Ingeborg’s ring and fires the temple, the chorus resumes (“Woe! he tugs with all his Might at the Ring”). The choral finale of this scene, with its effective instrumentation, is a masterpiece of dramatic music, worthy to rank with the highest work of its kind in opera. After the storm, the calm. In that calm occurs a melodical episode of an extraordinary character. The melody itself is so unlike anything which precedes or follows it that it must have been interpolated. In grateful contrast with the revenge of Frithjof, the burning of the temple, and the curses of the infuriated priests, comes the fourth scene, “Frithjof’s Departure from the Northland,”—a solo quartet for male voices (“Sun in the Sky now mounteth high”), of exquisite harmony, leading up to and accompanying a barytone solo which has rarely beensurpassed in the tender beauty of its melody or the majestic sonority of its style:[19]—“World’s grandest region, thou mighty North!From thy dominions I am driven forth;Within thy border I lov’d to dwell;Midsummer sun, farewell, farewell.Thou mighty North, farewell.My love is foiled, my roof-tree rent,Mine honor soiled, I in exile sent!Cheerless is my soul within me,Hopeless I must bear my lot.Ye rugged mountains, where heroes dwell,And Thor commandeth clouds and winds;Ye azure lakes, that I love so well,Ye woods and brakes, farewell.”The fifth scene is Ingeborg’s lament for her lost lover (“Storms wildly roar”),—a soprano solo, which, if not as dramatic as the music assigned to Frithjof, is nevertheless full of beautiful sentiment. The work closes with a delightful chorus, with short phrases for Frithjof (“Now he crosseth the Floods of the salt desert Waste”), supposed to be sung on board the hero’s good ship “Ellida” as they sail off for conquest and the enjoyment of the booty he has promised his companions.[18]An admirable translation of the Saga was made by George Stephens, published in London and Stockholm in 1839. It includes besides the Saga, a life of Tegnér, by Bishop Franzén of Hernösand, Sweden; the Frithjof literature; description of Ingeborg’s Arm Ring, by Hildebrand, the Royal Antiquarian of Sweden; Crusell’s songs; and numerous notes and illustrations.[19]In the original Saga the “Farewell” has six verses, the first, second, and sixth of which are thus literally translated:—“Heimskringla’s forehead,Thou lofty North!Away I’m hurriedFrom this thine earth.My race from thee goes,I boasting tell;Now, nurse of heroes,Farewell! Farewell!“Farewell, high-gleamingWalhalla’s throne,Night’s eye, bright-beaming,Midsummer’s sun!Sky! where, as in hero’sSoul, pure depths dwell,And thronging star-rows,Farewell! Farewell!* * * * *“My love insulted,My palace brent,My honor tarnished,In exile sent,From land in sadnessTo the sea we appeal,But life’s young gladness,Farewell! Farewell!”Salamis.“Salamis, Triumphal Hymn of the Greeks” was written in 1862. It is a composition mostly for male chorus, and is admirably adapted for festival purposes. The poem, which celebrates the defeat of Xerxes, is by H. Lingg, and runs as follows:—“Adorn the ships with Persian trophies!Let the purple sails be swelled!Joy floats about the masts!Evoe, the mighty foe, is vanquished!We broke, O sea, we broke the bond,Which the Persian Prince threw around thy neck.Thou rollest now unfettered, no longer embitteredBy the hateful trampling of the horses,Which thy waving surface,Thy bridge-fettered wrath, bore reluctantly.Fate overtook XerxesAnd achieved a Hellenic victory on the waves.To the tyrant, to the arbitrary master,Did not succumb the people that dwell by the sea,For the old ruler of the sea filled his beloved raceWith boundless courage for the sea-fight.All around, the waves with delightHear many an Ionic song;They roar and join the pæanAfter the splendid struggleThere arise dithyrambic days of liberty!”The instrumental introduction to the work is written in massive style, its grand chorus being elegantly interwoven with runs by the wood instruments, preparing the way for the festive adorning of the ships,—a very beautiful allegro movement. This is followed by a slower movement which pictures the breaking of the bond, the rolling of the sea, and the trampling of the horses with all that vividness for which the composer is famous. It is succeeded by a passage which is very stately, particularly in the basses (“Fate overtook Xerxes”), leading up to the grand climax (“All around, the Waves with Delight”), when the orchestra and voices are in splendid accord. After a short repetition of the opening allegro the hymn closes. It would be hard to find a more admirable musical setting of a poem than this, whether in the strength and beauty of its vocal parts, or in the color, vigor, and general effectiveness of the instrumentation.Fair Ellen.The heroic defence of Lucknow by its British garrison in 1857, during the Sepoy rebellion, is one of the most memorable events in the English administration of India. The world is familiar with the story of the disaffection of the native troops,the failure of Sir Henry Lawrence, who was in command, to overcome the mutiny, the stubborn defence which the brave little garrison made against the repeated assaults of the native troops, their temporary assistance from Outram and Havelock, who cut their way into the city, and the final relief which was brought to them by Sir Colin Campbell. Of all the stirring incidents of the siege, however, not one has made such a strong impression as the fanciful story of the Scotch girl who heard the slogan of the MacGregors far away and knew the Highlanders were coming to their rescue.It is this incident which Bruch has used as the theme of his cantata “Schön Ellen” (“Fair Ellen”). The story is identical with the one so often told in prose and poetry, but thedramatis personædiffer. Instead of General Lawrence we have Lord Edward, and instead of familiar Jessie Brown we have “Fair Ellen.” The text of the libretto is weak and spiritless as compared with that of the poetical versions. The salient point of the story is thus versified in the former:—“The Campbells are coming, I told you true;I hear the bugle blowing:The pibroch is borne adown the wind,The tones on the breezes quiver;’Neath the tread of battalions that hurry alongAfar the plains do shiver.”Compare the above with the corresponding verses from Robert Lowell’s fine poem:—“The Highlanders! O dinna ye hearThe slogan far awa?The MacGregors? Ah! I ken it weel;It’s the grandest of them a’.* * * * *“Then Jessie said, ‘The slogan’s dune,But can ye no hear them noo?The Campbells are comin’! It’s nae a dream;Our succors hae broken through.”Weak as the text may be, the strong healthy music of the cantata makes ample compensation. It is quite brief, there being but two solo parts, “Fair Ellen” (soprano) and Lord Edward (barytone), and five short chorus numbers. The former are vigorous and somewhat declamatory in style, but the choruses are very melodious and stirring. The instrumentation is unusually effective, and a fine point is made in the climax by the interweaving of the familiar air, “The Campbells are Coming,” with the orchestral score. It lends spirit and color to the finale, and closes up the work with a fine burst of powerful effect. Short as it is, “Fair Ellen” will always be a favorite with popular audiences.Odysseus.The cantata of “Odysseus,” like that of “Frithjof,” is made up of detached scenes, in this case selected from the Odyssey and arranged by William Paul Graff. The work was first produced in 1872, and has met with great success in Germany, England, and the United States. It is divided intotwo parts, the first containing four, and the second, six scenes. The characters are as numerous as those of a grand opera, and include Odysseus, barytone; Penelope, alto; Alcinoos, King of the Pheaces, bass; Arete, his consort, alto; Nausicaa, their daughter, soprano; the Helmsman, bass; Pallas Athene, soprano; Leucothea, soprano; Spirit of Tiresias, bass; Spirit of Anticlia, Odysseus’ mother, alto; and Hermes, tenor. In performance, however, the parts of Arete and the Spirit of Anticlia, as well as of Nausicaa and Pallas Athene, are usually doubled. The choruses, which are a very important feature of the work, are assigned to Odysseus’ companions, Spirits of the Departed, Sirens, Tritons, Nymphs of the sea, Pheaces, Rhapsodes, boatmen and people of Ithaca.In the first scene Odysseus is discovered on Calypso’s enchanted island longing for home. Hermes, the messenger of the gods, appears to him and announces that the Immortals, touched by his sorrow, will rescue him and restore him to Penelope. In the next scene the wanderer has reached the abysses of Erebus, “where, loud thundering, the flood of Cocytus pours its black wave into Acheron’s tide.” Here he invokes the world of shades. The spirits of children, brides, youths, and old men successively appear to him and narrate their mournful stories. Then Tiresias the bard warns him of the Sirens, and Anticlia his mother bids him hasten to Penelope. In the third scene he passes the isles of the Sirens, and escapestheir wiles through the firmness of his companions. The fourth scene describes the storm at sea, the wreck of the vessel, and Odysseus’ rescue by Leucothea, who gives him the veil the Immortals have woven, and bids the Oceanides and Tritons guide him safely to land; and the first part closes with our hero peacefully sleeping on the flowery shore of the island of Pheacia.The second part opens with the lament of Penelope and her prayer to the gods to restore her husband to her. The sixth scene changes to the island again, and discloses Odysseus awakened from his slumbers by the sports and dances of Nausicaa and her joyful maidens. He appeals to her for help and refreshment, and is bidden to partake of their hospitality. In the next scene a sumptuous banquet is spread for him, at which he reveals his identity and asks that he be allowed to return to his home. The fair Nausicaa, though suddenly enamoured of the handsome stranger, conceals her passion and expedites his departure. The eighth scene gives us a sketch of Penelope weaving the garment, theruseby which she kept her suitors aloof.“This garment by day I weave in my sorrow,And ravel the web in the still hour of night;Thus wearying long, yet my tears greet the morrow,Hope vanishes as the long years take flight.”The ninth scene opens with the arrival of Odysseus at Ithaca. The sleeping wanderer is borne ashore by his comrades, and upon awakingfrom his slumbers fails to recognize his own country until Pallas Athene appears to him. The goddess convinces him that he is at home once more, and then discloses the plot of the suitors, who are revelling in his palace, to compel Penelope to select one of them that day in order that they may gain possession of his property, as well as their conspiracy for his destruction, from which she promises to protect him. The final scene describes the glad acclamations of the people as they recognize Odysseus, and the joy of Penelope as she welcomes him home once more.The orchestral introduction is very free and flowing in character, and its themes are taken from the duet of Odysseus and Penelope, which occurs later on. The opening chorus of Calypso’s nymphs (“Here, O Hermes, in midst of the Island”) is very graceful in its movement and is set to a most delightful accompaniment. It is followed by Odysseus’ lament (“Flow, ye Tears, since Days are hateful”), at first tender in its character, then changing to passionate utterances as the remembrance of Penelope comes to him, and closing with a hopeful strain after the promise of help from Zeus. In the second or Hades scene the music changes from its bright color to a gloomier minor tone. It opens with a male chorus (“The Bounds we have reached of the deep flowing Ocean”), pianissimo, gradually increasing in intensity and accompanied by remarkable effects in tone-color as the orchestra describes “the thundering of the flood Cocytus” and “the surging aloft ofthe shadows of the departed.” It is followed by semi-choruses of the shades, and closes with a very spirited and dramatic male chorus (“Dread on Dread! Lo, surging aloft, the numberless Hosts of Departed”). The third scene opens with a fresh and characteristic male chorus (“Our Sails to the Breezes”), followed by the graceful and alluring chorus of the sirens (“Come, great Odysseus, Hero of Might”). The last scene is almost entirely choral and very dramatic in its effect, especially the opening number for the Oceanides and Tritons (“Hark! the Storm gathers from afar”), with its vigorous instrumental description of the tempest, and the closing number for full chorus (“Yonder beckons the wood-crested Harbor”), which in its tenderness and joyousness forms a striking contrast to the earlier part of the scene.The second part is introduced with a dignified and sombre recitative (“Thou far-darting Sun”), followed by an aria of the same character (“Oh! Atritone”) in which Penelope bewails the absence of Odysseus. In the next scene the music changes to a bright and tripping strain, the chorus of Nausicaa’s maidens (“On the flowery Mead, girt by the dimpling Tide”), which closely resembles that of Calypso’s nymphs in the first scene. After Odysseus’ fervent appeal (“Hark to me! Queen, or heaven-dwelling Goddess”) the banquet scene occurs. It begins with an animated chorus of the Pheacians (“Be welcome, Stranger, to Pheacia’s Land”), followed by an exquisite unison chorus of the Rhapsodes (“Ten Yearsnow are past since Troy in the Dust was laid”), set to an accompaniment of harps. A simple and tender melody (“Let me then depart in Peace”), sung by Odysseus, in which the chorus singers gradually join, closes the scene. The eighth scene contains the most expressive solo number of the work, Penelope’s aria (“This Garment by Day I weave in my Sorrow”), with a characteristic descriptive accompaniment. The gems of the ninth scene are Odysseus’ passionate aria (“O my Fatherland! blest Remembrance!”) and his furious revenge song (“Miscreant! woe to Thee”). The last scene opens with a joyous chorus of the people (“Say, have ye heard the Tidings of Joy?”), followed by a fervent duet between Odysseus and Penelope (“Omnipotent Zeus! we call on thy Name”). The final chorus begins in chorale style (“In Flames ascending”), and after repeating the melody of Odysseus’ song in the seventh scene (“Nowhere abides such Delight”), closes with a fine fugued passage (“Slayer of Darkness”).BUCK.Dudley Buck, one of the most eminent of American organists and composers, was born March 10, 1839, at Hartford, Conn., where his father was engaged in the mercantile business. He studied both the piano and organ, the latter with such success that at the age of sixteen he was appointed organist at St. John’s Church in his native city. In 1858 he went to Europe and entered the Leipsic Conservatory, where he studied the piano with Plaidy and Moscheles, and composition with Hauptmann and Richter. After remaining there a year and a half he went to Dresden and began the study of Bach’s music with Johann Schneider. A year and a half later he went to Paris, and there acquainted himself with French music and musicians. He returned to this country in 1862, and accepted the position of organist at the Park Church, Hartford, but after the death of his parents removed to Chicago, where he obtained the position of organist at St. James’s Episcopal Church, and also devoted much of his time to teaching and composition. In that city his home became a musical centre.His library, fine organ, and music-room were great attractions, and he had laid the foundation of a brilliant musical career, when the great fire of 1871 swept away his entire property, including many manuscript compositions. Like many other musicians at that time he left the city, seeing no prospect of advantage to him where it would require a long time to recover purely material losses. He went with his family to Boston, where his fame was already established, and obtained the position of organist at St. Paul’s Church, as well as the charge of the large organ in the Music Hall. After remaining a short time in that city he removed to New York, where he has since resided. His life has been a very busy one, and he has had an important influence, both personally and in connection with Theodore Thomas, upon the progress of music in this country. It is not extravagant to say that there are few Protestant churches whose music has not been dignified and improved by his contributions, particularly of anthems and Te Deums, as well as of compositions for the organ, of which he is a consummate master. Singing societies are also indebted to him for many elegant four-part songs. Among his larger works are the cantata “Don Munio” (1874); the “Centennial,” written for the Centennial at Philadelphia; “The Nun of Nidaros” (1878); “The Golden Legend,” which was the prize cantata at the Cincinnati Festival of 1880; an Easter cantata; the Forty-sixth Psalm, written for the Boston Handel and Haydn Society; two volumes of sacred songs and motets;“Marmion,” a symphonic overture, and other works for orchestra; the cantatas “Voyage of Columbus” (1885) and the “Light of Asia” (1886). The last two cantatas were issued in Europe, the one in Germany and the other in England, and thus came to this country bearing a foreign imprint,—a novelty for an American composer.Don Munio“Don Munio,” a dramatic cantata for solos, chorus, and orchestra, was written in 1874. The story of it is taken from Washington Irving’s Spanish papers, and the scene is laid in the period of the wars with the Moors. While hunting one morning, Don Munio de Hinojosa captures a cavalcade which is escorting the Moorish Prince, Abadil, and his betrothed, Constanza, on the way to their wedding. The Prince, all escape being cut off, seeks to purchase the good-will of Don Munio with his gold and jewels, and implores him not to separate him from his affianced. The Don, touched by their unfortunate condition, invites them to spend a fortnight at his castle, promising that the nuptials shall be celebrated there, and then they shall be released. The lovers accept, and Don Munio is faithful to his promise. Shortly after their departure he is ordered by the king to join in the expedition to Palestine. In one of the encounters of this crusade he is killed by Abadil, who does notrecognize his former benefactor with his visor closed. His death is greatly mourned in Spain, but they are consoled when Roderigo, a messenger from Palestine, arrives and tells them that one evening while strolling near the Holy Sepulchre he saw seventy Christian knights riding in ghostly procession, with the late Don Munio at their head. This is regarded as an assurance that all is well with him.Requiescat in pace.These are the incidents which Mr. Buck has chosen for musical treatment, and he has done the work excellently well. After the orchestral introduction follows a spirited hunting-song for male chorus. The next scene opens in the chamber of Donna Maria, wife of Don Munio, who laments his absence in a minor strain, to which succeeds a rondo movement. The third is religious in character, marked “Evening. Close of vesper service in the chapel of the castle. Escobedo, the chaplain, with the women, and such retainers as have not followed Don Munio on his expedition.” It begins with a prelude closing with full orchestra and organ, and leading to barytone solo and chorus, and a short exhortation to prayer by Escobedo. The next number is an Ave Maria for full chorus, which is very beautifully harmonized. In the next scene we encounter Don Munio in the forest, and are treated to the conventional hunting-song. The next number hints at the approach of the Moors, which is soon disclosed by a pretty three-part chorus of “the females of the Moorish cavalcade asthey journey.” The eighth scene contains some powerful chorus work, divided between the furious Spaniards and the frightened women, and set to a very vigorous accompaniment. After the tumult ends, Abadil very melodiously appeals to Don Munio, followed by a brief arioso in which the latter makes his terms, and a spirited chorus of gratitude to the Don, which close the first part.After a short prelude, the second part opens with a tenor aria for Abadil (“O, thou my Star”) which is very refined in sentiment. It is followed by the chorale “Jesu, dulcis Memoria,” sung by the chapel choir. A duet ensues between the two lovers on the castle terrace, which is very Italian in its flavor, and one of the most effective numbers in the cantata. The next two numbers furnish the wedding music,—a happy bridal chorus, and a charming bolero for orchestra. These lead to an unaccompanied quartet between Don Munio, Donna Maria, Abadil, and Constanza (“It is the Lot of Friends to part”). In the next scene occurs a vigorous duet between Don Munio and his wife, in which he informs her of his speedy departure for Palestine, followed by a stirring battle-hymn for male chorus. The next scene, “The chapel of the castle, choir chanting the dirge for the dead,” is in strong contrast with the preceding. Mr. Buck has rarely written anything better in his sacred music than this beautiful requiem. In the next two numbers the messenger describes the manner of Don Munio’s death, and the ghostly vision at the sepulchre,and at the end of his message the requiem changes to a jubilant chorus of gratitude (“In thankful Hymns ascending”). “Don Munio” is one of the most powerful and spontaneous of American compositions, and needs but little more amplification to deserve the name of opera.The Centennial Meditation of Columbia.The National Centennial celebration at Philadelphia was inaugurated May 10, 1876, with a special musical programme, in which the cantata with the above formidable title occupied a prominent place. The ode was written by Sydney Lanier, of Georgia, a poet who prior to that time had made considerable reputation by two poems printed in “Lippincott’s Magazine.” The national idea was satisfied by assigning the music to Dudley Buck, at that time living in Connecticut. It must be acknowledged that the work did not make a deep impression, although it contains some excellent musical writing, and for two sufficient reasons. First, it is not a work of musical genius or inspiration, as it was ordered by a commission for a popular show. It was not singular in this respect. The “Centennial March,” written by Richard Wagner, for the same occasion, is page after page of sound and fury, executed for a most exorbitant remuneration. To ascertain its real want of inspiration one has butto place it by the side of the “Kaiser March,” with its massive chords, its grand thematic treatment, and its stately movement, the outcome of patriotic fervor and national triumph. Second, the stilted and unmusical lines furnished by Mr. Lanier must have hampered the composer in every verse. This is all the more remarkable because Mr. Lanier himself was a practical musician. He had been for some time a violinist in the Peabody orchestra at Baltimore, under that accomplished leader, Asgar Hamerik. It is remarkable, therefore, that he should not have recognized the difficulties he was placing in the way both of the composer and the performers.The ode has sixty-one lines, divided into eight stanzas of unequal lengths. It sketches the past and present of the nation, the powers which opposed its progress and hindered the development of its freedom, and the elements which at last produced success, closing with cheering auguries for the future, and a welcome to the world. All this might have been set to smooth and fluent verse, which would readily have adapted itself to music; but what composer could have treated successfully such verses as these?—“Mayflower, Mayflower, slowly hither flying,Trembling westward o’er yon balking sea,Hearts within, ‘Farewell, dear England,’ sighing,Winds without, ‘But dear in vain,’ replying,Gray-lipp’d waves about thee shouted, crying,‘No! it shall not be!’“Jamestown, out of thee—Plymouth, thee—thee, Albany—Winter cries, ‘Ye freeze; away!’Fever cries, ‘Ye burn; away!’Hunger cries, ‘Ye starve; away!’Vengeance cries, ‘Your graves shall stay!’“Hark!Huguenots whispering ‘Yea’ in the dark,Puritans answering ‘Yea’ in the dark!‘Yea,’ like an arrow shot true to his mark,Darts through the tyrannous heart of Denial.Patience and Labor and solemn-souled Trial,Foiled, still beginning,Soiled, but not sinning,Toil through the stertorous death of the Night,Toil, when wild brother-wars new-dark the light,Toil, and forgive, and kiss o’er, and re-plight.”Even in the last verse, where the composer must make his climax, and the singers must be most effective, they are confronted with this unsingable line:—“And wave the world’s best lover’s welcome to the world.”The only musical verse is the reply of the angel to Columbia in the midst of her ragged and cacophonous meditation, which the composer selected as a solo for bass voice:[20]—“Long as thine Art shall love true love,Long as thy Science truth shall know,Long as thine Eagle harms no Dove,Long as thy Law by law shall grow,Long as thy God is God above,Thy brother every man below,So long, dear Land of all my love,Thy name shall shine, thy fame shall grow.”The prelude for orchestra determines the motive of the whole cantata, and is very spirited; for here, at least, the composer was not hampered by words. The opening verse,—“From this hundred-terraced height,”is set very effectively in chorale form; but the next two verses, already quoted, are arranged for semi-chorus and full chorus, and close in a vocal stretto quite as hysterical as the words. Then follows the whispering of the Huguenots and Puritans, commencingsotto voce, and gradually increasing to aforteat the close. A few bars for the horn lead to the bass solo, “Long as thine Art,” with horn obligato,—a very impressive and dignified aria, and one which would speedily become a favorite in the concert-room if adapted to the words. The final number (“Music from this Height of Time”) begins in full choral harmony and closes with a vigorous and well-written fugue.[20]Sung upon that occasion by Mr. Myron D. Whitney.The Golden Legend.“The Golden Legend” was written in competition for the prize of one thousand dollars, which the Cincinnati May Festival Association offered in 1879 for the best work of a native composer. The judges were Theodore Thomas, Otto Singer, Asgar Hamerik, Carl Zerrahn, and the late Dr. Leopold Damrosch. Their award was made to “The Golden Legend,” and it was first performed at the Festival of 1880,with Miss Annie B. Norton as Elsie, Mr. Frederick Harvey as Prince Henry, Mr. J. F. Rudolphsen as Lucifer, and Mr. M. D. Whitney as Friar Paul.The text of the cantata is composed of a prologue, epilogue, and twelve scenes taken from Longfellow’s Episode in “Christus” by the same name. The mediæval story is a very simple one. Prince Henry of Hoheneck, stricken down with an incurable ailment, after vainly seeking a remedy, is visited by Lucifer disguised as a physician, who tempts him to adopt a remedy prescribed by a doctor of Salerno; namely, the blood of a maiden who will voluntarily offer herself as a sacrifice. Elsie devotes her life to the Prince, and they journey together to Salerno, where her death must take place. Arrived at the spot, the Prince, touched by her magnanimity, entreats her to forego her purpose; but she insists upon it, bids him farewell in the school, and enters an inner apartment with Lucifer disguised as a friar. Before the tragedy can be consummated, the Prince bursts open the door, with the aid of his followers, and rescues her. The pair return to the castle on the Rhine, where of course the rapidly convalescing Prince marries Elsie, and the story closes with an epilogue reciting the discomfiture of Lucifer and the triumph of good over evil.Out of this material the composer has constructed his work, eliminating from and adding to the original matter to suit his musical scheme, but at the same time preserving the general spirit of the story. After a very spirited and energetic prelude, the prologuebegins with the fruitless attempt of Lucifer to pull down the cross on the spire of Strasburg cathedral, the protests of the spirits of the air (first and second sopranos), the defiance of the bells (male chorus) as each attempt fails, and the final disappearance of the spirits amid the chanting of the majestic Latin hymn, “Nocte surgentes,” by full chorus in the church, accompanied by the organ. The second scene opens in Prince Henry’s chamber in the tower of the Vautsberg castle, and reminds one of the opening scene of “Faust,” as set by Gounod. After an expressive declamation of his melancholy and his longing for rest and health (“I cannot sleep, my fervid Brain calls up the vanished Past again”), Lucifer appears in a flash of light, dressed as a travelling physician, and a dialogue ensues, the purport of which has already been told, which closes with an ingenious and beautifully-written number for the two voices, accompanied by a four-part chorus of mixed voices and a small semi-chorus of sopranos and altos (“Golden Visions wave and hover”). The fourth scene is an unaccompanied quartet, “The Evening Song,” sung by Elsie, Bertha, Max, and Gottlieb in their peasant home in the Odenwald, as they light the lamps (“O gladsome Light of the Father”). It is a simple, tranquil hymn, but full of that sacred sentiment which this composer expresses so admirably in music. The fifth scene, Elsie’s prayer in her chamber (“My Redeemer and my Lord”), in its calm beauty and religious feeling makes a fitting pendant to the quartet. In the next number, theorchestra is utilized to carry on the action, and in march tempo describes the pilgrimage to Salerno with stately intervals, in which is heard the sacred song, “Urbs cœlestis, urbs beata,” supposed to be sung by the pilgrims “moving slowly on their long journey with uncovered feet.” The seventh scene is laid in the refectory of the convent of Hirschau, in the Black Forest, where Lucifer enters the gaudiolum of monks, disguised as a friar, and sings the rollicking Latin drinking-song, “Ave color vini clari,” which Mr. Edmund C. Stedman versified for this work as follows:—“Hail! thou vintage clear and ruddy!Sweet of taste and fine of body,Through thine aid we soon shall studyHow to make us glorious!“Oh! thy color erubescent!Oh! thy fragrance evanescent!Oh! within the mouth how pleasant!Thou the tongue’s prætorius!“Blest the stomach where thou wendest!Blest the throat which thou distendest!Blest the mouth which thou befriendest,And the lips victorious!Chorus of Monks.“Pour the wine, then, pour it!Let the wave bear all before it!There’s none to score it,So pour it in plenty, pour it!”The next number is for orchestra only, and once more the instruments are used for a continuance of the action by a description of the carousal of themonks in a characteristic allegro bacchanale, the abbot testifying his indignation through the medium of the trombone and the use of the Gregorian melody. The sentiment of the latter is expressed by the following verse:—“What mean this revel and carouse?Is this a tavern and drinking-house?Are you Christian monks or heathen devils,To pollute this convent with your revels?”The ninth scene changes to Genoa. Elsie, on a terrace overlooking the sea, sings a charming aria (“The Night is calm and cloudless”), with a choral refrain of “Kyrie Eleison.” The tenth is a graceful barcarolle for orchestra, but it is somewhat in the nature of an interpolation, and is only connected with the movement of the story by a thin thread, as will be seen from the verse which gives its motive:—“The fisherman who lies afloat,With shadowy sail in yonder boat,Is singing softly to the night.A single step and all is o’er;And thou, dear Elsie, wilt be freeFrom martyrdom and agony.”The eleventh scene is a spirited and beautifully-written male chorus of sailors (“The Wind upon our Quarter lies”). The twelfth reaches the climax in the scene at the college of Salerno between Lucifer, Elsie, and the Prince, with accompaniment of attendants, and is very dramatic throughout. It is followed by a tender love-duet for Elsie and the Prince on the terrace of the castle of Vautsberg,which leads to the epilogue, “O Beauty of Holiness,” for full chorus and orchestra, in which the composer is at his very best both in the construction of the vocal parts and the elaborately worked-up accompaniments.

BRAHMS.Johannes Brahms, one of the most eminent of living German composers, was born at Hamburg, May 7, 1833. His father was a double-bass player in the orchestra in that city, and devoted his son at a very early age to his own profession. His first piano teacher was Cossell; but to Edward Marxsen, the royal music director, he owes his real success as a composer. Brahms remained in Hamburg until 1853, when he went upon a concert-tour with Reményí, the eccentric and somewhat sensational Hungarian, who has been a familiar figure upon the American concert-stage. He remained with him however but a very short time, for in October of that year they parted company. Brahms had attracted the notice of Liszt and Joachim, and it may have been through their advice that the musical partnership was dissolved. In any event, soon after leaving Reményí he went to Düsseldorf and visited Schumann, who announced him to the musical world in a very enthusiastic manner. The next year (1854) appeared his first works,—three sonatas, a trio and scherzo for piano, and three booksof songs. After a visit to Liszt at Weimar he settled down as chorus-conductor and music-teacher at the court of Lippe-Detmold, where he remained a few years. After leaving Detmold he successively resided in Hamburg, Zürich, and Baden-Baden, though most of his time has been spent in Vienna, where he has directed the Singakademie and the concerts of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde. Among his most famous compositions are a funeral hymn for chorus and wind-band; the “German Requiem;” “Triumphlied,” for double chorus and orchestra; “Schicksalslied,” for chorus and orchestra; six symphonies; variations on a theme of Haydn, for orchestra; the “Tragic” and “Academic” overtures; besides several trios, quartets, quintets, sextets, concertos, and sonatas.

Johannes Brahms, one of the most eminent of living German composers, was born at Hamburg, May 7, 1833. His father was a double-bass player in the orchestra in that city, and devoted his son at a very early age to his own profession. His first piano teacher was Cossell; but to Edward Marxsen, the royal music director, he owes his real success as a composer. Brahms remained in Hamburg until 1853, when he went upon a concert-tour with Reményí, the eccentric and somewhat sensational Hungarian, who has been a familiar figure upon the American concert-stage. He remained with him however but a very short time, for in October of that year they parted company. Brahms had attracted the notice of Liszt and Joachim, and it may have been through their advice that the musical partnership was dissolved. In any event, soon after leaving Reményí he went to Düsseldorf and visited Schumann, who announced him to the musical world in a very enthusiastic manner. The next year (1854) appeared his first works,—three sonatas, a trio and scherzo for piano, and three booksof songs. After a visit to Liszt at Weimar he settled down as chorus-conductor and music-teacher at the court of Lippe-Detmold, where he remained a few years. After leaving Detmold he successively resided in Hamburg, Zürich, and Baden-Baden, though most of his time has been spent in Vienna, where he has directed the Singakademie and the concerts of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde. Among his most famous compositions are a funeral hymn for chorus and wind-band; the “German Requiem;” “Triumphlied,” for double chorus and orchestra; “Schicksalslied,” for chorus and orchestra; six symphonies; variations on a theme of Haydn, for orchestra; the “Tragic” and “Academic” overtures; besides several trios, quartets, quintets, sextets, concertos, and sonatas.

Triumphlied.“Triumphlied” (“Song of Triumph”) was written by Brahms in commemoration of the victories of German arms and the re-establishment of the Empire, and is dedicated to “the German Emperor Wilhelm I.” It was first performed at the fifty-first festival of the Lower Rhine at Cologne in 1873. The text is a paraphrase of certain verses in the nineteenth chapter of Revelation, and reads as follows:—“Hallelujah, praise the Lord! Honor and power and glory to God!“For in righteousness and truth the Lord giveth judgment.“Glory be to God, all ye His servants, and ye that fear Him, all both humble and mighty.“Hallelujah, for the omnipotent God hath exalted His kingdom.“O, be joyful, let all be glad, to Him alone give honor.“Behold, the heavens opened wide, and yonder a snow-white horse, and on him sat one called Steadfast and Faithful, who warreth and judgeth all with righteousness.“And he treads the wine-press of wrath of the Lord God Almighty.“Lo! a great name hath he written upon his vesture and upon his girdle.“A King of kings and Lord of lords! Hallelujah! Amen!”The scriptural selections are divided into three movements, written for double chorus (with the exception of two short barytone solos), orchestra, and organ, and are introduced by a brief instrumental prelude of a solemn but animated and exultant character, in the closing measures of which both choirs break in with jubilant shouts of “Hallelujah! praise the Lord!” The theme of the movement is the stirring old German song “Heil dir im Siegerkranz,”[17]which is worked up with consummate skill. The first part closes with a climax ofpower and contrapuntal effect hardly to be found elsewhere outside the choruses of Handel.The second movement (“Glory be to God!”) is of the same general character as the first. After the opening ascription, a short fugue intervenes, leading to a fresh melody alternately sung by both choruses.The third movement, after a very brief but spirited orchestral flourish, opens with an exultant barytone solo (“And behold then the Heavens opened wide”). The choruses respond with animation (“And yonder a snow-white Horse”). Again the barytone intervenes (“And lo! a great Name hath He written”), and then the choruses take up the majestic theme, “King of Kings and Lord of Lords,” each answering the other with triumphant shouts that gather force and fire as they proceed, and closing with a mighty hallelujah in which voices, orchestra, and organ join with fullest power to produce one of the grandest harmonies ever written. The work is one of extreme difficulty, as the two choirs are treated independently and their harmonies are complicated, though blended in general effect. Neither choir receives assistance from the other. In fact, each rank of voices is required to perform music of the most exacting kind, so that a perfect performance of this great jubilee hymn requires singers of trained skill and more than ordinary intelligence. When thus given, few choruses of modern times reveal such artistic richness and symmetrical proportions.[17]A German national song, written by Heinrich Harries, a Holstein clergyman, for the birthday of Christian VII. of Denmark. It was originally in eight stanzas, but was reduced to five and otherwise slightly modified for Prussian use by B. G. Schumacher, and in this form appeared as a “Berliner Volkslied” in theSpenersche Zeitungof Dec. 17, 1793.—Grove’s Dictionary.

“Triumphlied” (“Song of Triumph”) was written by Brahms in commemoration of the victories of German arms and the re-establishment of the Empire, and is dedicated to “the German Emperor Wilhelm I.” It was first performed at the fifty-first festival of the Lower Rhine at Cologne in 1873. The text is a paraphrase of certain verses in the nineteenth chapter of Revelation, and reads as follows:—

“Hallelujah, praise the Lord! Honor and power and glory to God!

“For in righteousness and truth the Lord giveth judgment.

“Glory be to God, all ye His servants, and ye that fear Him, all both humble and mighty.

“Hallelujah, for the omnipotent God hath exalted His kingdom.

“O, be joyful, let all be glad, to Him alone give honor.

“Behold, the heavens opened wide, and yonder a snow-white horse, and on him sat one called Steadfast and Faithful, who warreth and judgeth all with righteousness.

“And he treads the wine-press of wrath of the Lord God Almighty.

“Lo! a great name hath he written upon his vesture and upon his girdle.

“A King of kings and Lord of lords! Hallelujah! Amen!”

The scriptural selections are divided into three movements, written for double chorus (with the exception of two short barytone solos), orchestra, and organ, and are introduced by a brief instrumental prelude of a solemn but animated and exultant character, in the closing measures of which both choirs break in with jubilant shouts of “Hallelujah! praise the Lord!” The theme of the movement is the stirring old German song “Heil dir im Siegerkranz,”[17]which is worked up with consummate skill. The first part closes with a climax ofpower and contrapuntal effect hardly to be found elsewhere outside the choruses of Handel.

The second movement (“Glory be to God!”) is of the same general character as the first. After the opening ascription, a short fugue intervenes, leading to a fresh melody alternately sung by both choruses.

The third movement, after a very brief but spirited orchestral flourish, opens with an exultant barytone solo (“And behold then the Heavens opened wide”). The choruses respond with animation (“And yonder a snow-white Horse”). Again the barytone intervenes (“And lo! a great Name hath He written”), and then the choruses take up the majestic theme, “King of Kings and Lord of Lords,” each answering the other with triumphant shouts that gather force and fire as they proceed, and closing with a mighty hallelujah in which voices, orchestra, and organ join with fullest power to produce one of the grandest harmonies ever written. The work is one of extreme difficulty, as the two choirs are treated independently and their harmonies are complicated, though blended in general effect. Neither choir receives assistance from the other. In fact, each rank of voices is required to perform music of the most exacting kind, so that a perfect performance of this great jubilee hymn requires singers of trained skill and more than ordinary intelligence. When thus given, few choruses of modern times reveal such artistic richness and symmetrical proportions.

[17]A German national song, written by Heinrich Harries, a Holstein clergyman, for the birthday of Christian VII. of Denmark. It was originally in eight stanzas, but was reduced to five and otherwise slightly modified for Prussian use by B. G. Schumacher, and in this form appeared as a “Berliner Volkslied” in theSpenersche Zeitungof Dec. 17, 1793.—Grove’s Dictionary.

[17]A German national song, written by Heinrich Harries, a Holstein clergyman, for the birthday of Christian VII. of Denmark. It was originally in eight stanzas, but was reduced to five and otherwise slightly modified for Prussian use by B. G. Schumacher, and in this form appeared as a “Berliner Volkslied” in theSpenersche Zeitungof Dec. 17, 1793.—Grove’s Dictionary.

BRUCH.Max Bruch, one of the most successful choral composers of the present time, was born at Cologne, Jan. 6, 1838. His father was a government official, and his mother a singer of more than ordinary ability. He received his early instructions, under her watchful supervision, from Professor Breidenstein, at Bonn. In 1852 he continued his studies with Hiller, Reinecke, and Breuning, at Cologne; and at this time began to produce compositions which gave unusual promise. In 1865 he was musical director at Coblenz, and subsequently at Berlin, where he conducted the Singakademie. In 1867 he was appointed chapel-master to the Prince of Schwarzburg-Sondershausen,—a post which he held until 1870. Since that time he has also been honored with a call to the directorship of the Liverpool Philharmonic Society. For some years past he has lived at Bonn and Berlin, and devoted himself exclusively to composition. His first public appearance as a composer was in connection with the performance of his operetta, “Scherz, List und Rache,” set to Goethe’s words;following which he produced several chamber compositions, among them a trio (op. 5), two string quartets (op. 9, 10), Capriccio (op. 2) for four hands, Fantasie (op. 11) for two pianos, the G minor and D minor violin concertos, besides two symphonies. He has also written an oratorio, “Arminius,” and two operas, “Loreley,” to the text which the poet Geibel wrote for Mendelssohn, and “Hermione,” an adaptation of Shakspeare’s “Winter’s Tale.” His greatest successes, however, have been made with his works in the cantata form, as he is a recognized master in writing for large masses of voices and instruments, though many of his solo melodies possess great beauty. In this class of his compositions the most conspicuous are “Scenes from the Frithjof-Saga,” familiarly known as “Frithjof,” “Flight of the Holy Family,” “Roman Triumph Song,” “Roman Obsequies,” “Salamis,” “Fair Ellen,” “Odysseus,” and “Rorate Coeli.”

Max Bruch, one of the most successful choral composers of the present time, was born at Cologne, Jan. 6, 1838. His father was a government official, and his mother a singer of more than ordinary ability. He received his early instructions, under her watchful supervision, from Professor Breidenstein, at Bonn. In 1852 he continued his studies with Hiller, Reinecke, and Breuning, at Cologne; and at this time began to produce compositions which gave unusual promise. In 1865 he was musical director at Coblenz, and subsequently at Berlin, where he conducted the Singakademie. In 1867 he was appointed chapel-master to the Prince of Schwarzburg-Sondershausen,—a post which he held until 1870. Since that time he has also been honored with a call to the directorship of the Liverpool Philharmonic Society. For some years past he has lived at Bonn and Berlin, and devoted himself exclusively to composition. His first public appearance as a composer was in connection with the performance of his operetta, “Scherz, List und Rache,” set to Goethe’s words;following which he produced several chamber compositions, among them a trio (op. 5), two string quartets (op. 9, 10), Capriccio (op. 2) for four hands, Fantasie (op. 11) for two pianos, the G minor and D minor violin concertos, besides two symphonies. He has also written an oratorio, “Arminius,” and two operas, “Loreley,” to the text which the poet Geibel wrote for Mendelssohn, and “Hermione,” an adaptation of Shakspeare’s “Winter’s Tale.” His greatest successes, however, have been made with his works in the cantata form, as he is a recognized master in writing for large masses of voices and instruments, though many of his solo melodies possess great beauty. In this class of his compositions the most conspicuous are “Scenes from the Frithjof-Saga,” familiarly known as “Frithjof,” “Flight of the Holy Family,” “Roman Triumph Song,” “Roman Obsequies,” “Salamis,” “Fair Ellen,” “Odysseus,” and “Rorate Coeli.”

Frithjof.The story of the old Norse hero Frithjof is told with exceeding spirit and beauty in the “Frithjof’s Saga” of Esaias Tegnér, Bishop of Wexiö, Sweden, which has been translated into almost every European language, and to which music has been adapted by Crusell, Hedda Wrangel, Boman, Sandberg, Zanders, Caroline Ridderstolpe, Panny, Silcher, and other Scandinavian and German composers. It was Bishop Tegnér’s Saga from which Bruch derivedthe incidents of his musical setting of this stirring Norse theme.[18]To make the text of the libretto intelligible, the incidents leading up to it must be briefly told. Frithjof was the son of Thorstein, a friend of King Bele of Baldershage, and was in love with Ingeborg, the king’s daughter and his foster sister. Bele died, and left his kingdom to his two sons. When Thorstein passed away, he bequeathed to his son his ship “Ellida” and his gold ring. Soon thereafter Frithjof sailed across the fiord to demand the hand of Ingeborg. Her brothers Helge and Halfdan scorned his suit, whereupon Frithjof swore they should never have help from him. King Ring, a neighboring monarch, hearing of the trouble between them, improved the opportunity to menace their kingdom. The brothers appealed to Frithjof for aid, but he turned a deaf ear; and when they took the field against Bele, he returned to Baldershage and made love to Ingeborg, with whom he exchanged rings. Helge and Halfdan were defeated by Ring, and as part of the indemnity he demanded Ingeborg’s hand. Finding upon their return that Frithjof had been there without their permission, they required him as a penalty to go to the Orkneys and collect the tribute which theislanders had neglected to pay since the death of Bele. Frithjof sailed away in “Ellida.” Meanwhile the brothers resorted to witchcraft to raise a storm that should destroy his vessel, burned his barrow, and married the lamenting Ingeborg to Ring.It is at this point that the text of the cantata begins. The first scene pictures the return of Frithjof and his joy at the prospect of seeing Ingeborg, whose hand the false brothers had promised him if he were successful. Learning what had occurred in his absence, Frithjof goes to the temple where the kings are sacrificing, hurls the tribute in Helge’s face, fires the edifice, and hurries to the sea, pursued by his enemies. The hero sails away again in “Ellida,” and becomes a sea-rover. The text closes with this incident. In the Saga, after gaining great fame, Frithjof returns and goes disguised as a salt-burner to Ring’s palace. The king recognized him, and moved by his sad story became his friend and appointed him guardian of his heir. Ring died soon after, and Frithjof married Ingeborg. Helge and Halfdan made war against him, Helge was killed, and Halfdan became his vassal.The cantata opens with an animated instrumental introduction, “Frithjof’s Return,” leading to the barytone recitative and aria (“How bravely o’er the Flood so bright”),—a very expressive song, interspersed with the tender, graceful chorus of his companions (“O, ’tis Delight when the Land far appeareth”). The second scene is preluded with a wedding march, whose blithe measures are inmarked contrast with the bridal chorus (“Sadly the Skald walks before the Train”), and Ingeborg’s song (“My Heart with Sorrow overflowing”), which describes her grief over her unhappy destiny. The third scene (“Frithjof’s Revenge”), for barytone, chorus, and orchestra, is one of great power in its dramatic and descriptive character, as well as in its masterly instrumentation. It begins with a chorus of priests (“Midnight Sun on the Mountain burns”), gradually accelerating until it is interrupted by Frithjof’s cry (“Go to Helas’ dark Abode”). Three bars of chorus intervene (“Woe! O wicked Deed”), when Frithjof, after a short recitative, sings a spirited aria (“Where my Father rests”). At its close, as he rescues Ingeborg’s ring and fires the temple, the chorus resumes (“Woe! he tugs with all his Might at the Ring”). The choral finale of this scene, with its effective instrumentation, is a masterpiece of dramatic music, worthy to rank with the highest work of its kind in opera. After the storm, the calm. In that calm occurs a melodical episode of an extraordinary character. The melody itself is so unlike anything which precedes or follows it that it must have been interpolated. In grateful contrast with the revenge of Frithjof, the burning of the temple, and the curses of the infuriated priests, comes the fourth scene, “Frithjof’s Departure from the Northland,”—a solo quartet for male voices (“Sun in the Sky now mounteth high”), of exquisite harmony, leading up to and accompanying a barytone solo which has rarely beensurpassed in the tender beauty of its melody or the majestic sonority of its style:[19]—“World’s grandest region, thou mighty North!From thy dominions I am driven forth;Within thy border I lov’d to dwell;Midsummer sun, farewell, farewell.Thou mighty North, farewell.My love is foiled, my roof-tree rent,Mine honor soiled, I in exile sent!Cheerless is my soul within me,Hopeless I must bear my lot.Ye rugged mountains, where heroes dwell,And Thor commandeth clouds and winds;Ye azure lakes, that I love so well,Ye woods and brakes, farewell.”The fifth scene is Ingeborg’s lament for her lost lover (“Storms wildly roar”),—a soprano solo, which, if not as dramatic as the music assigned to Frithjof, is nevertheless full of beautiful sentiment. The work closes with a delightful chorus, with short phrases for Frithjof (“Now he crosseth the Floods of the salt desert Waste”), supposed to be sung on board the hero’s good ship “Ellida” as they sail off for conquest and the enjoyment of the booty he has promised his companions.[18]An admirable translation of the Saga was made by George Stephens, published in London and Stockholm in 1839. It includes besides the Saga, a life of Tegnér, by Bishop Franzén of Hernösand, Sweden; the Frithjof literature; description of Ingeborg’s Arm Ring, by Hildebrand, the Royal Antiquarian of Sweden; Crusell’s songs; and numerous notes and illustrations.[19]In the original Saga the “Farewell” has six verses, the first, second, and sixth of which are thus literally translated:—“Heimskringla’s forehead,Thou lofty North!Away I’m hurriedFrom this thine earth.My race from thee goes,I boasting tell;Now, nurse of heroes,Farewell! Farewell!“Farewell, high-gleamingWalhalla’s throne,Night’s eye, bright-beaming,Midsummer’s sun!Sky! where, as in hero’sSoul, pure depths dwell,And thronging star-rows,Farewell! Farewell!* * * * *“My love insulted,My palace brent,My honor tarnished,In exile sent,From land in sadnessTo the sea we appeal,But life’s young gladness,Farewell! Farewell!”

The story of the old Norse hero Frithjof is told with exceeding spirit and beauty in the “Frithjof’s Saga” of Esaias Tegnér, Bishop of Wexiö, Sweden, which has been translated into almost every European language, and to which music has been adapted by Crusell, Hedda Wrangel, Boman, Sandberg, Zanders, Caroline Ridderstolpe, Panny, Silcher, and other Scandinavian and German composers. It was Bishop Tegnér’s Saga from which Bruch derivedthe incidents of his musical setting of this stirring Norse theme.[18]

To make the text of the libretto intelligible, the incidents leading up to it must be briefly told. Frithjof was the son of Thorstein, a friend of King Bele of Baldershage, and was in love with Ingeborg, the king’s daughter and his foster sister. Bele died, and left his kingdom to his two sons. When Thorstein passed away, he bequeathed to his son his ship “Ellida” and his gold ring. Soon thereafter Frithjof sailed across the fiord to demand the hand of Ingeborg. Her brothers Helge and Halfdan scorned his suit, whereupon Frithjof swore they should never have help from him. King Ring, a neighboring monarch, hearing of the trouble between them, improved the opportunity to menace their kingdom. The brothers appealed to Frithjof for aid, but he turned a deaf ear; and when they took the field against Bele, he returned to Baldershage and made love to Ingeborg, with whom he exchanged rings. Helge and Halfdan were defeated by Ring, and as part of the indemnity he demanded Ingeborg’s hand. Finding upon their return that Frithjof had been there without their permission, they required him as a penalty to go to the Orkneys and collect the tribute which theislanders had neglected to pay since the death of Bele. Frithjof sailed away in “Ellida.” Meanwhile the brothers resorted to witchcraft to raise a storm that should destroy his vessel, burned his barrow, and married the lamenting Ingeborg to Ring.

It is at this point that the text of the cantata begins. The first scene pictures the return of Frithjof and his joy at the prospect of seeing Ingeborg, whose hand the false brothers had promised him if he were successful. Learning what had occurred in his absence, Frithjof goes to the temple where the kings are sacrificing, hurls the tribute in Helge’s face, fires the edifice, and hurries to the sea, pursued by his enemies. The hero sails away again in “Ellida,” and becomes a sea-rover. The text closes with this incident. In the Saga, after gaining great fame, Frithjof returns and goes disguised as a salt-burner to Ring’s palace. The king recognized him, and moved by his sad story became his friend and appointed him guardian of his heir. Ring died soon after, and Frithjof married Ingeborg. Helge and Halfdan made war against him, Helge was killed, and Halfdan became his vassal.

The cantata opens with an animated instrumental introduction, “Frithjof’s Return,” leading to the barytone recitative and aria (“How bravely o’er the Flood so bright”),—a very expressive song, interspersed with the tender, graceful chorus of his companions (“O, ’tis Delight when the Land far appeareth”). The second scene is preluded with a wedding march, whose blithe measures are inmarked contrast with the bridal chorus (“Sadly the Skald walks before the Train”), and Ingeborg’s song (“My Heart with Sorrow overflowing”), which describes her grief over her unhappy destiny. The third scene (“Frithjof’s Revenge”), for barytone, chorus, and orchestra, is one of great power in its dramatic and descriptive character, as well as in its masterly instrumentation. It begins with a chorus of priests (“Midnight Sun on the Mountain burns”), gradually accelerating until it is interrupted by Frithjof’s cry (“Go to Helas’ dark Abode”). Three bars of chorus intervene (“Woe! O wicked Deed”), when Frithjof, after a short recitative, sings a spirited aria (“Where my Father rests”). At its close, as he rescues Ingeborg’s ring and fires the temple, the chorus resumes (“Woe! he tugs with all his Might at the Ring”). The choral finale of this scene, with its effective instrumentation, is a masterpiece of dramatic music, worthy to rank with the highest work of its kind in opera. After the storm, the calm. In that calm occurs a melodical episode of an extraordinary character. The melody itself is so unlike anything which precedes or follows it that it must have been interpolated. In grateful contrast with the revenge of Frithjof, the burning of the temple, and the curses of the infuriated priests, comes the fourth scene, “Frithjof’s Departure from the Northland,”—a solo quartet for male voices (“Sun in the Sky now mounteth high”), of exquisite harmony, leading up to and accompanying a barytone solo which has rarely beensurpassed in the tender beauty of its melody or the majestic sonority of its style:[19]—

“World’s grandest region, thou mighty North!From thy dominions I am driven forth;Within thy border I lov’d to dwell;Midsummer sun, farewell, farewell.Thou mighty North, farewell.My love is foiled, my roof-tree rent,Mine honor soiled, I in exile sent!Cheerless is my soul within me,Hopeless I must bear my lot.Ye rugged mountains, where heroes dwell,And Thor commandeth clouds and winds;Ye azure lakes, that I love so well,Ye woods and brakes, farewell.”

“World’s grandest region, thou mighty North!From thy dominions I am driven forth;Within thy border I lov’d to dwell;Midsummer sun, farewell, farewell.Thou mighty North, farewell.My love is foiled, my roof-tree rent,Mine honor soiled, I in exile sent!Cheerless is my soul within me,Hopeless I must bear my lot.Ye rugged mountains, where heroes dwell,And Thor commandeth clouds and winds;Ye azure lakes, that I love so well,Ye woods and brakes, farewell.”

“World’s grandest region, thou mighty North!

From thy dominions I am driven forth;

Within thy border I lov’d to dwell;

Midsummer sun, farewell, farewell.

Thou mighty North, farewell.

My love is foiled, my roof-tree rent,

Mine honor soiled, I in exile sent!

Cheerless is my soul within me,

Hopeless I must bear my lot.

Ye rugged mountains, where heroes dwell,

And Thor commandeth clouds and winds;

Ye azure lakes, that I love so well,

Ye woods and brakes, farewell.”

The fifth scene is Ingeborg’s lament for her lost lover (“Storms wildly roar”),—a soprano solo, which, if not as dramatic as the music assigned to Frithjof, is nevertheless full of beautiful sentiment. The work closes with a delightful chorus, with short phrases for Frithjof (“Now he crosseth the Floods of the salt desert Waste”), supposed to be sung on board the hero’s good ship “Ellida” as they sail off for conquest and the enjoyment of the booty he has promised his companions.

[18]An admirable translation of the Saga was made by George Stephens, published in London and Stockholm in 1839. It includes besides the Saga, a life of Tegnér, by Bishop Franzén of Hernösand, Sweden; the Frithjof literature; description of Ingeborg’s Arm Ring, by Hildebrand, the Royal Antiquarian of Sweden; Crusell’s songs; and numerous notes and illustrations.[19]In the original Saga the “Farewell” has six verses, the first, second, and sixth of which are thus literally translated:—“Heimskringla’s forehead,Thou lofty North!Away I’m hurriedFrom this thine earth.My race from thee goes,I boasting tell;Now, nurse of heroes,Farewell! Farewell!“Farewell, high-gleamingWalhalla’s throne,Night’s eye, bright-beaming,Midsummer’s sun!Sky! where, as in hero’sSoul, pure depths dwell,And thronging star-rows,Farewell! Farewell!* * * * *“My love insulted,My palace brent,My honor tarnished,In exile sent,From land in sadnessTo the sea we appeal,But life’s young gladness,Farewell! Farewell!”

[18]An admirable translation of the Saga was made by George Stephens, published in London and Stockholm in 1839. It includes besides the Saga, a life of Tegnér, by Bishop Franzén of Hernösand, Sweden; the Frithjof literature; description of Ingeborg’s Arm Ring, by Hildebrand, the Royal Antiquarian of Sweden; Crusell’s songs; and numerous notes and illustrations.

[19]In the original Saga the “Farewell” has six verses, the first, second, and sixth of which are thus literally translated:—“Heimskringla’s forehead,Thou lofty North!Away I’m hurriedFrom this thine earth.My race from thee goes,I boasting tell;Now, nurse of heroes,Farewell! Farewell!“Farewell, high-gleamingWalhalla’s throne,Night’s eye, bright-beaming,Midsummer’s sun!Sky! where, as in hero’sSoul, pure depths dwell,And thronging star-rows,Farewell! Farewell!* * * * *“My love insulted,My palace brent,My honor tarnished,In exile sent,From land in sadnessTo the sea we appeal,But life’s young gladness,Farewell! Farewell!”

“Heimskringla’s forehead,Thou lofty North!Away I’m hurriedFrom this thine earth.My race from thee goes,I boasting tell;Now, nurse of heroes,Farewell! Farewell!

“Heimskringla’s forehead,

Thou lofty North!

Away I’m hurried

From this thine earth.

My race from thee goes,

I boasting tell;

Now, nurse of heroes,

Farewell! Farewell!

“Farewell, high-gleamingWalhalla’s throne,Night’s eye, bright-beaming,Midsummer’s sun!Sky! where, as in hero’sSoul, pure depths dwell,And thronging star-rows,Farewell! Farewell!

“Farewell, high-gleaming

Walhalla’s throne,

Night’s eye, bright-beaming,

Midsummer’s sun!

Sky! where, as in hero’s

Soul, pure depths dwell,

And thronging star-rows,

Farewell! Farewell!

* * * * *

* * * * *

“My love insulted,My palace brent,My honor tarnished,In exile sent,From land in sadnessTo the sea we appeal,But life’s young gladness,Farewell! Farewell!”

“My love insulted,

My palace brent,

My honor tarnished,

In exile sent,

From land in sadness

To the sea we appeal,

But life’s young gladness,

Farewell! Farewell!”

Salamis.“Salamis, Triumphal Hymn of the Greeks” was written in 1862. It is a composition mostly for male chorus, and is admirably adapted for festival purposes. The poem, which celebrates the defeat of Xerxes, is by H. Lingg, and runs as follows:—“Adorn the ships with Persian trophies!Let the purple sails be swelled!Joy floats about the masts!Evoe, the mighty foe, is vanquished!We broke, O sea, we broke the bond,Which the Persian Prince threw around thy neck.Thou rollest now unfettered, no longer embitteredBy the hateful trampling of the horses,Which thy waving surface,Thy bridge-fettered wrath, bore reluctantly.Fate overtook XerxesAnd achieved a Hellenic victory on the waves.To the tyrant, to the arbitrary master,Did not succumb the people that dwell by the sea,For the old ruler of the sea filled his beloved raceWith boundless courage for the sea-fight.All around, the waves with delightHear many an Ionic song;They roar and join the pæanAfter the splendid struggleThere arise dithyrambic days of liberty!”The instrumental introduction to the work is written in massive style, its grand chorus being elegantly interwoven with runs by the wood instruments, preparing the way for the festive adorning of the ships,—a very beautiful allegro movement. This is followed by a slower movement which pictures the breaking of the bond, the rolling of the sea, and the trampling of the horses with all that vividness for which the composer is famous. It is succeeded by a passage which is very stately, particularly in the basses (“Fate overtook Xerxes”), leading up to the grand climax (“All around, the Waves with Delight”), when the orchestra and voices are in splendid accord. After a short repetition of the opening allegro the hymn closes. It would be hard to find a more admirable musical setting of a poem than this, whether in the strength and beauty of its vocal parts, or in the color, vigor, and general effectiveness of the instrumentation.

“Salamis, Triumphal Hymn of the Greeks” was written in 1862. It is a composition mostly for male chorus, and is admirably adapted for festival purposes. The poem, which celebrates the defeat of Xerxes, is by H. Lingg, and runs as follows:—

“Adorn the ships with Persian trophies!Let the purple sails be swelled!Joy floats about the masts!Evoe, the mighty foe, is vanquished!We broke, O sea, we broke the bond,Which the Persian Prince threw around thy neck.Thou rollest now unfettered, no longer embitteredBy the hateful trampling of the horses,Which thy waving surface,Thy bridge-fettered wrath, bore reluctantly.Fate overtook XerxesAnd achieved a Hellenic victory on the waves.To the tyrant, to the arbitrary master,Did not succumb the people that dwell by the sea,For the old ruler of the sea filled his beloved raceWith boundless courage for the sea-fight.All around, the waves with delightHear many an Ionic song;They roar and join the pæanAfter the splendid struggleThere arise dithyrambic days of liberty!”

“Adorn the ships with Persian trophies!Let the purple sails be swelled!Joy floats about the masts!Evoe, the mighty foe, is vanquished!We broke, O sea, we broke the bond,Which the Persian Prince threw around thy neck.Thou rollest now unfettered, no longer embitteredBy the hateful trampling of the horses,Which thy waving surface,Thy bridge-fettered wrath, bore reluctantly.Fate overtook XerxesAnd achieved a Hellenic victory on the waves.To the tyrant, to the arbitrary master,Did not succumb the people that dwell by the sea,For the old ruler of the sea filled his beloved raceWith boundless courage for the sea-fight.All around, the waves with delightHear many an Ionic song;They roar and join the pæanAfter the splendid struggleThere arise dithyrambic days of liberty!”

“Adorn the ships with Persian trophies!

Let the purple sails be swelled!

Joy floats about the masts!

Evoe, the mighty foe, is vanquished!

We broke, O sea, we broke the bond,

Which the Persian Prince threw around thy neck.

Thou rollest now unfettered, no longer embittered

By the hateful trampling of the horses,

Which thy waving surface,

Thy bridge-fettered wrath, bore reluctantly.

Fate overtook Xerxes

And achieved a Hellenic victory on the waves.

To the tyrant, to the arbitrary master,

Did not succumb the people that dwell by the sea,

For the old ruler of the sea filled his beloved race

With boundless courage for the sea-fight.

All around, the waves with delight

Hear many an Ionic song;

They roar and join the pæan

After the splendid struggle

There arise dithyrambic days of liberty!”

The instrumental introduction to the work is written in massive style, its grand chorus being elegantly interwoven with runs by the wood instruments, preparing the way for the festive adorning of the ships,—a very beautiful allegro movement. This is followed by a slower movement which pictures the breaking of the bond, the rolling of the sea, and the trampling of the horses with all that vividness for which the composer is famous. It is succeeded by a passage which is very stately, particularly in the basses (“Fate overtook Xerxes”), leading up to the grand climax (“All around, the Waves with Delight”), when the orchestra and voices are in splendid accord. After a short repetition of the opening allegro the hymn closes. It would be hard to find a more admirable musical setting of a poem than this, whether in the strength and beauty of its vocal parts, or in the color, vigor, and general effectiveness of the instrumentation.

Fair Ellen.The heroic defence of Lucknow by its British garrison in 1857, during the Sepoy rebellion, is one of the most memorable events in the English administration of India. The world is familiar with the story of the disaffection of the native troops,the failure of Sir Henry Lawrence, who was in command, to overcome the mutiny, the stubborn defence which the brave little garrison made against the repeated assaults of the native troops, their temporary assistance from Outram and Havelock, who cut their way into the city, and the final relief which was brought to them by Sir Colin Campbell. Of all the stirring incidents of the siege, however, not one has made such a strong impression as the fanciful story of the Scotch girl who heard the slogan of the MacGregors far away and knew the Highlanders were coming to their rescue.It is this incident which Bruch has used as the theme of his cantata “Schön Ellen” (“Fair Ellen”). The story is identical with the one so often told in prose and poetry, but thedramatis personædiffer. Instead of General Lawrence we have Lord Edward, and instead of familiar Jessie Brown we have “Fair Ellen.” The text of the libretto is weak and spiritless as compared with that of the poetical versions. The salient point of the story is thus versified in the former:—“The Campbells are coming, I told you true;I hear the bugle blowing:The pibroch is borne adown the wind,The tones on the breezes quiver;’Neath the tread of battalions that hurry alongAfar the plains do shiver.”Compare the above with the corresponding verses from Robert Lowell’s fine poem:—“The Highlanders! O dinna ye hearThe slogan far awa?The MacGregors? Ah! I ken it weel;It’s the grandest of them a’.* * * * *“Then Jessie said, ‘The slogan’s dune,But can ye no hear them noo?The Campbells are comin’! It’s nae a dream;Our succors hae broken through.”Weak as the text may be, the strong healthy music of the cantata makes ample compensation. It is quite brief, there being but two solo parts, “Fair Ellen” (soprano) and Lord Edward (barytone), and five short chorus numbers. The former are vigorous and somewhat declamatory in style, but the choruses are very melodious and stirring. The instrumentation is unusually effective, and a fine point is made in the climax by the interweaving of the familiar air, “The Campbells are Coming,” with the orchestral score. It lends spirit and color to the finale, and closes up the work with a fine burst of powerful effect. Short as it is, “Fair Ellen” will always be a favorite with popular audiences.

The heroic defence of Lucknow by its British garrison in 1857, during the Sepoy rebellion, is one of the most memorable events in the English administration of India. The world is familiar with the story of the disaffection of the native troops,the failure of Sir Henry Lawrence, who was in command, to overcome the mutiny, the stubborn defence which the brave little garrison made against the repeated assaults of the native troops, their temporary assistance from Outram and Havelock, who cut their way into the city, and the final relief which was brought to them by Sir Colin Campbell. Of all the stirring incidents of the siege, however, not one has made such a strong impression as the fanciful story of the Scotch girl who heard the slogan of the MacGregors far away and knew the Highlanders were coming to their rescue.

It is this incident which Bruch has used as the theme of his cantata “Schön Ellen” (“Fair Ellen”). The story is identical with the one so often told in prose and poetry, but thedramatis personædiffer. Instead of General Lawrence we have Lord Edward, and instead of familiar Jessie Brown we have “Fair Ellen.” The text of the libretto is weak and spiritless as compared with that of the poetical versions. The salient point of the story is thus versified in the former:—

“The Campbells are coming, I told you true;I hear the bugle blowing:The pibroch is borne adown the wind,The tones on the breezes quiver;’Neath the tread of battalions that hurry alongAfar the plains do shiver.”

“The Campbells are coming, I told you true;I hear the bugle blowing:The pibroch is borne adown the wind,The tones on the breezes quiver;’Neath the tread of battalions that hurry alongAfar the plains do shiver.”

“The Campbells are coming, I told you true;

I hear the bugle blowing:

The pibroch is borne adown the wind,

The tones on the breezes quiver;

’Neath the tread of battalions that hurry along

Afar the plains do shiver.”

Compare the above with the corresponding verses from Robert Lowell’s fine poem:—

“The Highlanders! O dinna ye hearThe slogan far awa?The MacGregors? Ah! I ken it weel;It’s the grandest of them a’.* * * * *“Then Jessie said, ‘The slogan’s dune,But can ye no hear them noo?The Campbells are comin’! It’s nae a dream;Our succors hae broken through.”

“The Highlanders! O dinna ye hearThe slogan far awa?The MacGregors? Ah! I ken it weel;It’s the grandest of them a’.

“The Highlanders! O dinna ye hear

The slogan far awa?

The MacGregors? Ah! I ken it weel;

It’s the grandest of them a’.

* * * * *

* * * * *

“Then Jessie said, ‘The slogan’s dune,But can ye no hear them noo?The Campbells are comin’! It’s nae a dream;Our succors hae broken through.”

“Then Jessie said, ‘The slogan’s dune,

But can ye no hear them noo?

The Campbells are comin’! It’s nae a dream;

Our succors hae broken through.”

Weak as the text may be, the strong healthy music of the cantata makes ample compensation. It is quite brief, there being but two solo parts, “Fair Ellen” (soprano) and Lord Edward (barytone), and five short chorus numbers. The former are vigorous and somewhat declamatory in style, but the choruses are very melodious and stirring. The instrumentation is unusually effective, and a fine point is made in the climax by the interweaving of the familiar air, “The Campbells are Coming,” with the orchestral score. It lends spirit and color to the finale, and closes up the work with a fine burst of powerful effect. Short as it is, “Fair Ellen” will always be a favorite with popular audiences.

Odysseus.The cantata of “Odysseus,” like that of “Frithjof,” is made up of detached scenes, in this case selected from the Odyssey and arranged by William Paul Graff. The work was first produced in 1872, and has met with great success in Germany, England, and the United States. It is divided intotwo parts, the first containing four, and the second, six scenes. The characters are as numerous as those of a grand opera, and include Odysseus, barytone; Penelope, alto; Alcinoos, King of the Pheaces, bass; Arete, his consort, alto; Nausicaa, their daughter, soprano; the Helmsman, bass; Pallas Athene, soprano; Leucothea, soprano; Spirit of Tiresias, bass; Spirit of Anticlia, Odysseus’ mother, alto; and Hermes, tenor. In performance, however, the parts of Arete and the Spirit of Anticlia, as well as of Nausicaa and Pallas Athene, are usually doubled. The choruses, which are a very important feature of the work, are assigned to Odysseus’ companions, Spirits of the Departed, Sirens, Tritons, Nymphs of the sea, Pheaces, Rhapsodes, boatmen and people of Ithaca.In the first scene Odysseus is discovered on Calypso’s enchanted island longing for home. Hermes, the messenger of the gods, appears to him and announces that the Immortals, touched by his sorrow, will rescue him and restore him to Penelope. In the next scene the wanderer has reached the abysses of Erebus, “where, loud thundering, the flood of Cocytus pours its black wave into Acheron’s tide.” Here he invokes the world of shades. The spirits of children, brides, youths, and old men successively appear to him and narrate their mournful stories. Then Tiresias the bard warns him of the Sirens, and Anticlia his mother bids him hasten to Penelope. In the third scene he passes the isles of the Sirens, and escapestheir wiles through the firmness of his companions. The fourth scene describes the storm at sea, the wreck of the vessel, and Odysseus’ rescue by Leucothea, who gives him the veil the Immortals have woven, and bids the Oceanides and Tritons guide him safely to land; and the first part closes with our hero peacefully sleeping on the flowery shore of the island of Pheacia.The second part opens with the lament of Penelope and her prayer to the gods to restore her husband to her. The sixth scene changes to the island again, and discloses Odysseus awakened from his slumbers by the sports and dances of Nausicaa and her joyful maidens. He appeals to her for help and refreshment, and is bidden to partake of their hospitality. In the next scene a sumptuous banquet is spread for him, at which he reveals his identity and asks that he be allowed to return to his home. The fair Nausicaa, though suddenly enamoured of the handsome stranger, conceals her passion and expedites his departure. The eighth scene gives us a sketch of Penelope weaving the garment, theruseby which she kept her suitors aloof.“This garment by day I weave in my sorrow,And ravel the web in the still hour of night;Thus wearying long, yet my tears greet the morrow,Hope vanishes as the long years take flight.”The ninth scene opens with the arrival of Odysseus at Ithaca. The sleeping wanderer is borne ashore by his comrades, and upon awakingfrom his slumbers fails to recognize his own country until Pallas Athene appears to him. The goddess convinces him that he is at home once more, and then discloses the plot of the suitors, who are revelling in his palace, to compel Penelope to select one of them that day in order that they may gain possession of his property, as well as their conspiracy for his destruction, from which she promises to protect him. The final scene describes the glad acclamations of the people as they recognize Odysseus, and the joy of Penelope as she welcomes him home once more.The orchestral introduction is very free and flowing in character, and its themes are taken from the duet of Odysseus and Penelope, which occurs later on. The opening chorus of Calypso’s nymphs (“Here, O Hermes, in midst of the Island”) is very graceful in its movement and is set to a most delightful accompaniment. It is followed by Odysseus’ lament (“Flow, ye Tears, since Days are hateful”), at first tender in its character, then changing to passionate utterances as the remembrance of Penelope comes to him, and closing with a hopeful strain after the promise of help from Zeus. In the second or Hades scene the music changes from its bright color to a gloomier minor tone. It opens with a male chorus (“The Bounds we have reached of the deep flowing Ocean”), pianissimo, gradually increasing in intensity and accompanied by remarkable effects in tone-color as the orchestra describes “the thundering of the flood Cocytus” and “the surging aloft ofthe shadows of the departed.” It is followed by semi-choruses of the shades, and closes with a very spirited and dramatic male chorus (“Dread on Dread! Lo, surging aloft, the numberless Hosts of Departed”). The third scene opens with a fresh and characteristic male chorus (“Our Sails to the Breezes”), followed by the graceful and alluring chorus of the sirens (“Come, great Odysseus, Hero of Might”). The last scene is almost entirely choral and very dramatic in its effect, especially the opening number for the Oceanides and Tritons (“Hark! the Storm gathers from afar”), with its vigorous instrumental description of the tempest, and the closing number for full chorus (“Yonder beckons the wood-crested Harbor”), which in its tenderness and joyousness forms a striking contrast to the earlier part of the scene.The second part is introduced with a dignified and sombre recitative (“Thou far-darting Sun”), followed by an aria of the same character (“Oh! Atritone”) in which Penelope bewails the absence of Odysseus. In the next scene the music changes to a bright and tripping strain, the chorus of Nausicaa’s maidens (“On the flowery Mead, girt by the dimpling Tide”), which closely resembles that of Calypso’s nymphs in the first scene. After Odysseus’ fervent appeal (“Hark to me! Queen, or heaven-dwelling Goddess”) the banquet scene occurs. It begins with an animated chorus of the Pheacians (“Be welcome, Stranger, to Pheacia’s Land”), followed by an exquisite unison chorus of the Rhapsodes (“Ten Yearsnow are past since Troy in the Dust was laid”), set to an accompaniment of harps. A simple and tender melody (“Let me then depart in Peace”), sung by Odysseus, in which the chorus singers gradually join, closes the scene. The eighth scene contains the most expressive solo number of the work, Penelope’s aria (“This Garment by Day I weave in my Sorrow”), with a characteristic descriptive accompaniment. The gems of the ninth scene are Odysseus’ passionate aria (“O my Fatherland! blest Remembrance!”) and his furious revenge song (“Miscreant! woe to Thee”). The last scene opens with a joyous chorus of the people (“Say, have ye heard the Tidings of Joy?”), followed by a fervent duet between Odysseus and Penelope (“Omnipotent Zeus! we call on thy Name”). The final chorus begins in chorale style (“In Flames ascending”), and after repeating the melody of Odysseus’ song in the seventh scene (“Nowhere abides such Delight”), closes with a fine fugued passage (“Slayer of Darkness”).

The cantata of “Odysseus,” like that of “Frithjof,” is made up of detached scenes, in this case selected from the Odyssey and arranged by William Paul Graff. The work was first produced in 1872, and has met with great success in Germany, England, and the United States. It is divided intotwo parts, the first containing four, and the second, six scenes. The characters are as numerous as those of a grand opera, and include Odysseus, barytone; Penelope, alto; Alcinoos, King of the Pheaces, bass; Arete, his consort, alto; Nausicaa, their daughter, soprano; the Helmsman, bass; Pallas Athene, soprano; Leucothea, soprano; Spirit of Tiresias, bass; Spirit of Anticlia, Odysseus’ mother, alto; and Hermes, tenor. In performance, however, the parts of Arete and the Spirit of Anticlia, as well as of Nausicaa and Pallas Athene, are usually doubled. The choruses, which are a very important feature of the work, are assigned to Odysseus’ companions, Spirits of the Departed, Sirens, Tritons, Nymphs of the sea, Pheaces, Rhapsodes, boatmen and people of Ithaca.

In the first scene Odysseus is discovered on Calypso’s enchanted island longing for home. Hermes, the messenger of the gods, appears to him and announces that the Immortals, touched by his sorrow, will rescue him and restore him to Penelope. In the next scene the wanderer has reached the abysses of Erebus, “where, loud thundering, the flood of Cocytus pours its black wave into Acheron’s tide.” Here he invokes the world of shades. The spirits of children, brides, youths, and old men successively appear to him and narrate their mournful stories. Then Tiresias the bard warns him of the Sirens, and Anticlia his mother bids him hasten to Penelope. In the third scene he passes the isles of the Sirens, and escapestheir wiles through the firmness of his companions. The fourth scene describes the storm at sea, the wreck of the vessel, and Odysseus’ rescue by Leucothea, who gives him the veil the Immortals have woven, and bids the Oceanides and Tritons guide him safely to land; and the first part closes with our hero peacefully sleeping on the flowery shore of the island of Pheacia.

The second part opens with the lament of Penelope and her prayer to the gods to restore her husband to her. The sixth scene changes to the island again, and discloses Odysseus awakened from his slumbers by the sports and dances of Nausicaa and her joyful maidens. He appeals to her for help and refreshment, and is bidden to partake of their hospitality. In the next scene a sumptuous banquet is spread for him, at which he reveals his identity and asks that he be allowed to return to his home. The fair Nausicaa, though suddenly enamoured of the handsome stranger, conceals her passion and expedites his departure. The eighth scene gives us a sketch of Penelope weaving the garment, theruseby which she kept her suitors aloof.

“This garment by day I weave in my sorrow,And ravel the web in the still hour of night;Thus wearying long, yet my tears greet the morrow,Hope vanishes as the long years take flight.”

“This garment by day I weave in my sorrow,And ravel the web in the still hour of night;Thus wearying long, yet my tears greet the morrow,Hope vanishes as the long years take flight.”

“This garment by day I weave in my sorrow,

And ravel the web in the still hour of night;

Thus wearying long, yet my tears greet the morrow,

Hope vanishes as the long years take flight.”

The ninth scene opens with the arrival of Odysseus at Ithaca. The sleeping wanderer is borne ashore by his comrades, and upon awakingfrom his slumbers fails to recognize his own country until Pallas Athene appears to him. The goddess convinces him that he is at home once more, and then discloses the plot of the suitors, who are revelling in his palace, to compel Penelope to select one of them that day in order that they may gain possession of his property, as well as their conspiracy for his destruction, from which she promises to protect him. The final scene describes the glad acclamations of the people as they recognize Odysseus, and the joy of Penelope as she welcomes him home once more.

The orchestral introduction is very free and flowing in character, and its themes are taken from the duet of Odysseus and Penelope, which occurs later on. The opening chorus of Calypso’s nymphs (“Here, O Hermes, in midst of the Island”) is very graceful in its movement and is set to a most delightful accompaniment. It is followed by Odysseus’ lament (“Flow, ye Tears, since Days are hateful”), at first tender in its character, then changing to passionate utterances as the remembrance of Penelope comes to him, and closing with a hopeful strain after the promise of help from Zeus. In the second or Hades scene the music changes from its bright color to a gloomier minor tone. It opens with a male chorus (“The Bounds we have reached of the deep flowing Ocean”), pianissimo, gradually increasing in intensity and accompanied by remarkable effects in tone-color as the orchestra describes “the thundering of the flood Cocytus” and “the surging aloft ofthe shadows of the departed.” It is followed by semi-choruses of the shades, and closes with a very spirited and dramatic male chorus (“Dread on Dread! Lo, surging aloft, the numberless Hosts of Departed”). The third scene opens with a fresh and characteristic male chorus (“Our Sails to the Breezes”), followed by the graceful and alluring chorus of the sirens (“Come, great Odysseus, Hero of Might”). The last scene is almost entirely choral and very dramatic in its effect, especially the opening number for the Oceanides and Tritons (“Hark! the Storm gathers from afar”), with its vigorous instrumental description of the tempest, and the closing number for full chorus (“Yonder beckons the wood-crested Harbor”), which in its tenderness and joyousness forms a striking contrast to the earlier part of the scene.

The second part is introduced with a dignified and sombre recitative (“Thou far-darting Sun”), followed by an aria of the same character (“Oh! Atritone”) in which Penelope bewails the absence of Odysseus. In the next scene the music changes to a bright and tripping strain, the chorus of Nausicaa’s maidens (“On the flowery Mead, girt by the dimpling Tide”), which closely resembles that of Calypso’s nymphs in the first scene. After Odysseus’ fervent appeal (“Hark to me! Queen, or heaven-dwelling Goddess”) the banquet scene occurs. It begins with an animated chorus of the Pheacians (“Be welcome, Stranger, to Pheacia’s Land”), followed by an exquisite unison chorus of the Rhapsodes (“Ten Yearsnow are past since Troy in the Dust was laid”), set to an accompaniment of harps. A simple and tender melody (“Let me then depart in Peace”), sung by Odysseus, in which the chorus singers gradually join, closes the scene. The eighth scene contains the most expressive solo number of the work, Penelope’s aria (“This Garment by Day I weave in my Sorrow”), with a characteristic descriptive accompaniment. The gems of the ninth scene are Odysseus’ passionate aria (“O my Fatherland! blest Remembrance!”) and his furious revenge song (“Miscreant! woe to Thee”). The last scene opens with a joyous chorus of the people (“Say, have ye heard the Tidings of Joy?”), followed by a fervent duet between Odysseus and Penelope (“Omnipotent Zeus! we call on thy Name”). The final chorus begins in chorale style (“In Flames ascending”), and after repeating the melody of Odysseus’ song in the seventh scene (“Nowhere abides such Delight”), closes with a fine fugued passage (“Slayer of Darkness”).

BUCK.Dudley Buck, one of the most eminent of American organists and composers, was born March 10, 1839, at Hartford, Conn., where his father was engaged in the mercantile business. He studied both the piano and organ, the latter with such success that at the age of sixteen he was appointed organist at St. John’s Church in his native city. In 1858 he went to Europe and entered the Leipsic Conservatory, where he studied the piano with Plaidy and Moscheles, and composition with Hauptmann and Richter. After remaining there a year and a half he went to Dresden and began the study of Bach’s music with Johann Schneider. A year and a half later he went to Paris, and there acquainted himself with French music and musicians. He returned to this country in 1862, and accepted the position of organist at the Park Church, Hartford, but after the death of his parents removed to Chicago, where he obtained the position of organist at St. James’s Episcopal Church, and also devoted much of his time to teaching and composition. In that city his home became a musical centre.His library, fine organ, and music-room were great attractions, and he had laid the foundation of a brilliant musical career, when the great fire of 1871 swept away his entire property, including many manuscript compositions. Like many other musicians at that time he left the city, seeing no prospect of advantage to him where it would require a long time to recover purely material losses. He went with his family to Boston, where his fame was already established, and obtained the position of organist at St. Paul’s Church, as well as the charge of the large organ in the Music Hall. After remaining a short time in that city he removed to New York, where he has since resided. His life has been a very busy one, and he has had an important influence, both personally and in connection with Theodore Thomas, upon the progress of music in this country. It is not extravagant to say that there are few Protestant churches whose music has not been dignified and improved by his contributions, particularly of anthems and Te Deums, as well as of compositions for the organ, of which he is a consummate master. Singing societies are also indebted to him for many elegant four-part songs. Among his larger works are the cantata “Don Munio” (1874); the “Centennial,” written for the Centennial at Philadelphia; “The Nun of Nidaros” (1878); “The Golden Legend,” which was the prize cantata at the Cincinnati Festival of 1880; an Easter cantata; the Forty-sixth Psalm, written for the Boston Handel and Haydn Society; two volumes of sacred songs and motets;“Marmion,” a symphonic overture, and other works for orchestra; the cantatas “Voyage of Columbus” (1885) and the “Light of Asia” (1886). The last two cantatas were issued in Europe, the one in Germany and the other in England, and thus came to this country bearing a foreign imprint,—a novelty for an American composer.

Dudley Buck, one of the most eminent of American organists and composers, was born March 10, 1839, at Hartford, Conn., where his father was engaged in the mercantile business. He studied both the piano and organ, the latter with such success that at the age of sixteen he was appointed organist at St. John’s Church in his native city. In 1858 he went to Europe and entered the Leipsic Conservatory, where he studied the piano with Plaidy and Moscheles, and composition with Hauptmann and Richter. After remaining there a year and a half he went to Dresden and began the study of Bach’s music with Johann Schneider. A year and a half later he went to Paris, and there acquainted himself with French music and musicians. He returned to this country in 1862, and accepted the position of organist at the Park Church, Hartford, but after the death of his parents removed to Chicago, where he obtained the position of organist at St. James’s Episcopal Church, and also devoted much of his time to teaching and composition. In that city his home became a musical centre.His library, fine organ, and music-room were great attractions, and he had laid the foundation of a brilliant musical career, when the great fire of 1871 swept away his entire property, including many manuscript compositions. Like many other musicians at that time he left the city, seeing no prospect of advantage to him where it would require a long time to recover purely material losses. He went with his family to Boston, where his fame was already established, and obtained the position of organist at St. Paul’s Church, as well as the charge of the large organ in the Music Hall. After remaining a short time in that city he removed to New York, where he has since resided. His life has been a very busy one, and he has had an important influence, both personally and in connection with Theodore Thomas, upon the progress of music in this country. It is not extravagant to say that there are few Protestant churches whose music has not been dignified and improved by his contributions, particularly of anthems and Te Deums, as well as of compositions for the organ, of which he is a consummate master. Singing societies are also indebted to him for many elegant four-part songs. Among his larger works are the cantata “Don Munio” (1874); the “Centennial,” written for the Centennial at Philadelphia; “The Nun of Nidaros” (1878); “The Golden Legend,” which was the prize cantata at the Cincinnati Festival of 1880; an Easter cantata; the Forty-sixth Psalm, written for the Boston Handel and Haydn Society; two volumes of sacred songs and motets;“Marmion,” a symphonic overture, and other works for orchestra; the cantatas “Voyage of Columbus” (1885) and the “Light of Asia” (1886). The last two cantatas were issued in Europe, the one in Germany and the other in England, and thus came to this country bearing a foreign imprint,—a novelty for an American composer.

Don Munio“Don Munio,” a dramatic cantata for solos, chorus, and orchestra, was written in 1874. The story of it is taken from Washington Irving’s Spanish papers, and the scene is laid in the period of the wars with the Moors. While hunting one morning, Don Munio de Hinojosa captures a cavalcade which is escorting the Moorish Prince, Abadil, and his betrothed, Constanza, on the way to their wedding. The Prince, all escape being cut off, seeks to purchase the good-will of Don Munio with his gold and jewels, and implores him not to separate him from his affianced. The Don, touched by their unfortunate condition, invites them to spend a fortnight at his castle, promising that the nuptials shall be celebrated there, and then they shall be released. The lovers accept, and Don Munio is faithful to his promise. Shortly after their departure he is ordered by the king to join in the expedition to Palestine. In one of the encounters of this crusade he is killed by Abadil, who does notrecognize his former benefactor with his visor closed. His death is greatly mourned in Spain, but they are consoled when Roderigo, a messenger from Palestine, arrives and tells them that one evening while strolling near the Holy Sepulchre he saw seventy Christian knights riding in ghostly procession, with the late Don Munio at their head. This is regarded as an assurance that all is well with him.Requiescat in pace.These are the incidents which Mr. Buck has chosen for musical treatment, and he has done the work excellently well. After the orchestral introduction follows a spirited hunting-song for male chorus. The next scene opens in the chamber of Donna Maria, wife of Don Munio, who laments his absence in a minor strain, to which succeeds a rondo movement. The third is religious in character, marked “Evening. Close of vesper service in the chapel of the castle. Escobedo, the chaplain, with the women, and such retainers as have not followed Don Munio on his expedition.” It begins with a prelude closing with full orchestra and organ, and leading to barytone solo and chorus, and a short exhortation to prayer by Escobedo. The next number is an Ave Maria for full chorus, which is very beautifully harmonized. In the next scene we encounter Don Munio in the forest, and are treated to the conventional hunting-song. The next number hints at the approach of the Moors, which is soon disclosed by a pretty three-part chorus of “the females of the Moorish cavalcade asthey journey.” The eighth scene contains some powerful chorus work, divided between the furious Spaniards and the frightened women, and set to a very vigorous accompaniment. After the tumult ends, Abadil very melodiously appeals to Don Munio, followed by a brief arioso in which the latter makes his terms, and a spirited chorus of gratitude to the Don, which close the first part.After a short prelude, the second part opens with a tenor aria for Abadil (“O, thou my Star”) which is very refined in sentiment. It is followed by the chorale “Jesu, dulcis Memoria,” sung by the chapel choir. A duet ensues between the two lovers on the castle terrace, which is very Italian in its flavor, and one of the most effective numbers in the cantata. The next two numbers furnish the wedding music,—a happy bridal chorus, and a charming bolero for orchestra. These lead to an unaccompanied quartet between Don Munio, Donna Maria, Abadil, and Constanza (“It is the Lot of Friends to part”). In the next scene occurs a vigorous duet between Don Munio and his wife, in which he informs her of his speedy departure for Palestine, followed by a stirring battle-hymn for male chorus. The next scene, “The chapel of the castle, choir chanting the dirge for the dead,” is in strong contrast with the preceding. Mr. Buck has rarely written anything better in his sacred music than this beautiful requiem. In the next two numbers the messenger describes the manner of Don Munio’s death, and the ghostly vision at the sepulchre,and at the end of his message the requiem changes to a jubilant chorus of gratitude (“In thankful Hymns ascending”). “Don Munio” is one of the most powerful and spontaneous of American compositions, and needs but little more amplification to deserve the name of opera.

“Don Munio,” a dramatic cantata for solos, chorus, and orchestra, was written in 1874. The story of it is taken from Washington Irving’s Spanish papers, and the scene is laid in the period of the wars with the Moors. While hunting one morning, Don Munio de Hinojosa captures a cavalcade which is escorting the Moorish Prince, Abadil, and his betrothed, Constanza, on the way to their wedding. The Prince, all escape being cut off, seeks to purchase the good-will of Don Munio with his gold and jewels, and implores him not to separate him from his affianced. The Don, touched by their unfortunate condition, invites them to spend a fortnight at his castle, promising that the nuptials shall be celebrated there, and then they shall be released. The lovers accept, and Don Munio is faithful to his promise. Shortly after their departure he is ordered by the king to join in the expedition to Palestine. In one of the encounters of this crusade he is killed by Abadil, who does notrecognize his former benefactor with his visor closed. His death is greatly mourned in Spain, but they are consoled when Roderigo, a messenger from Palestine, arrives and tells them that one evening while strolling near the Holy Sepulchre he saw seventy Christian knights riding in ghostly procession, with the late Don Munio at their head. This is regarded as an assurance that all is well with him.Requiescat in pace.

These are the incidents which Mr. Buck has chosen for musical treatment, and he has done the work excellently well. After the orchestral introduction follows a spirited hunting-song for male chorus. The next scene opens in the chamber of Donna Maria, wife of Don Munio, who laments his absence in a minor strain, to which succeeds a rondo movement. The third is religious in character, marked “Evening. Close of vesper service in the chapel of the castle. Escobedo, the chaplain, with the women, and such retainers as have not followed Don Munio on his expedition.” It begins with a prelude closing with full orchestra and organ, and leading to barytone solo and chorus, and a short exhortation to prayer by Escobedo. The next number is an Ave Maria for full chorus, which is very beautifully harmonized. In the next scene we encounter Don Munio in the forest, and are treated to the conventional hunting-song. The next number hints at the approach of the Moors, which is soon disclosed by a pretty three-part chorus of “the females of the Moorish cavalcade asthey journey.” The eighth scene contains some powerful chorus work, divided between the furious Spaniards and the frightened women, and set to a very vigorous accompaniment. After the tumult ends, Abadil very melodiously appeals to Don Munio, followed by a brief arioso in which the latter makes his terms, and a spirited chorus of gratitude to the Don, which close the first part.

After a short prelude, the second part opens with a tenor aria for Abadil (“O, thou my Star”) which is very refined in sentiment. It is followed by the chorale “Jesu, dulcis Memoria,” sung by the chapel choir. A duet ensues between the two lovers on the castle terrace, which is very Italian in its flavor, and one of the most effective numbers in the cantata. The next two numbers furnish the wedding music,—a happy bridal chorus, and a charming bolero for orchestra. These lead to an unaccompanied quartet between Don Munio, Donna Maria, Abadil, and Constanza (“It is the Lot of Friends to part”). In the next scene occurs a vigorous duet between Don Munio and his wife, in which he informs her of his speedy departure for Palestine, followed by a stirring battle-hymn for male chorus. The next scene, “The chapel of the castle, choir chanting the dirge for the dead,” is in strong contrast with the preceding. Mr. Buck has rarely written anything better in his sacred music than this beautiful requiem. In the next two numbers the messenger describes the manner of Don Munio’s death, and the ghostly vision at the sepulchre,and at the end of his message the requiem changes to a jubilant chorus of gratitude (“In thankful Hymns ascending”). “Don Munio” is one of the most powerful and spontaneous of American compositions, and needs but little more amplification to deserve the name of opera.

The Centennial Meditation of Columbia.The National Centennial celebration at Philadelphia was inaugurated May 10, 1876, with a special musical programme, in which the cantata with the above formidable title occupied a prominent place. The ode was written by Sydney Lanier, of Georgia, a poet who prior to that time had made considerable reputation by two poems printed in “Lippincott’s Magazine.” The national idea was satisfied by assigning the music to Dudley Buck, at that time living in Connecticut. It must be acknowledged that the work did not make a deep impression, although it contains some excellent musical writing, and for two sufficient reasons. First, it is not a work of musical genius or inspiration, as it was ordered by a commission for a popular show. It was not singular in this respect. The “Centennial March,” written by Richard Wagner, for the same occasion, is page after page of sound and fury, executed for a most exorbitant remuneration. To ascertain its real want of inspiration one has butto place it by the side of the “Kaiser March,” with its massive chords, its grand thematic treatment, and its stately movement, the outcome of patriotic fervor and national triumph. Second, the stilted and unmusical lines furnished by Mr. Lanier must have hampered the composer in every verse. This is all the more remarkable because Mr. Lanier himself was a practical musician. He had been for some time a violinist in the Peabody orchestra at Baltimore, under that accomplished leader, Asgar Hamerik. It is remarkable, therefore, that he should not have recognized the difficulties he was placing in the way both of the composer and the performers.The ode has sixty-one lines, divided into eight stanzas of unequal lengths. It sketches the past and present of the nation, the powers which opposed its progress and hindered the development of its freedom, and the elements which at last produced success, closing with cheering auguries for the future, and a welcome to the world. All this might have been set to smooth and fluent verse, which would readily have adapted itself to music; but what composer could have treated successfully such verses as these?—“Mayflower, Mayflower, slowly hither flying,Trembling westward o’er yon balking sea,Hearts within, ‘Farewell, dear England,’ sighing,Winds without, ‘But dear in vain,’ replying,Gray-lipp’d waves about thee shouted, crying,‘No! it shall not be!’“Jamestown, out of thee—Plymouth, thee—thee, Albany—Winter cries, ‘Ye freeze; away!’Fever cries, ‘Ye burn; away!’Hunger cries, ‘Ye starve; away!’Vengeance cries, ‘Your graves shall stay!’“Hark!Huguenots whispering ‘Yea’ in the dark,Puritans answering ‘Yea’ in the dark!‘Yea,’ like an arrow shot true to his mark,Darts through the tyrannous heart of Denial.Patience and Labor and solemn-souled Trial,Foiled, still beginning,Soiled, but not sinning,Toil through the stertorous death of the Night,Toil, when wild brother-wars new-dark the light,Toil, and forgive, and kiss o’er, and re-plight.”Even in the last verse, where the composer must make his climax, and the singers must be most effective, they are confronted with this unsingable line:—“And wave the world’s best lover’s welcome to the world.”The only musical verse is the reply of the angel to Columbia in the midst of her ragged and cacophonous meditation, which the composer selected as a solo for bass voice:[20]—“Long as thine Art shall love true love,Long as thy Science truth shall know,Long as thine Eagle harms no Dove,Long as thy Law by law shall grow,Long as thy God is God above,Thy brother every man below,So long, dear Land of all my love,Thy name shall shine, thy fame shall grow.”The prelude for orchestra determines the motive of the whole cantata, and is very spirited; for here, at least, the composer was not hampered by words. The opening verse,—“From this hundred-terraced height,”is set very effectively in chorale form; but the next two verses, already quoted, are arranged for semi-chorus and full chorus, and close in a vocal stretto quite as hysterical as the words. Then follows the whispering of the Huguenots and Puritans, commencingsotto voce, and gradually increasing to aforteat the close. A few bars for the horn lead to the bass solo, “Long as thine Art,” with horn obligato,—a very impressive and dignified aria, and one which would speedily become a favorite in the concert-room if adapted to the words. The final number (“Music from this Height of Time”) begins in full choral harmony and closes with a vigorous and well-written fugue.[20]Sung upon that occasion by Mr. Myron D. Whitney.

The National Centennial celebration at Philadelphia was inaugurated May 10, 1876, with a special musical programme, in which the cantata with the above formidable title occupied a prominent place. The ode was written by Sydney Lanier, of Georgia, a poet who prior to that time had made considerable reputation by two poems printed in “Lippincott’s Magazine.” The national idea was satisfied by assigning the music to Dudley Buck, at that time living in Connecticut. It must be acknowledged that the work did not make a deep impression, although it contains some excellent musical writing, and for two sufficient reasons. First, it is not a work of musical genius or inspiration, as it was ordered by a commission for a popular show. It was not singular in this respect. The “Centennial March,” written by Richard Wagner, for the same occasion, is page after page of sound and fury, executed for a most exorbitant remuneration. To ascertain its real want of inspiration one has butto place it by the side of the “Kaiser March,” with its massive chords, its grand thematic treatment, and its stately movement, the outcome of patriotic fervor and national triumph. Second, the stilted and unmusical lines furnished by Mr. Lanier must have hampered the composer in every verse. This is all the more remarkable because Mr. Lanier himself was a practical musician. He had been for some time a violinist in the Peabody orchestra at Baltimore, under that accomplished leader, Asgar Hamerik. It is remarkable, therefore, that he should not have recognized the difficulties he was placing in the way both of the composer and the performers.

The ode has sixty-one lines, divided into eight stanzas of unequal lengths. It sketches the past and present of the nation, the powers which opposed its progress and hindered the development of its freedom, and the elements which at last produced success, closing with cheering auguries for the future, and a welcome to the world. All this might have been set to smooth and fluent verse, which would readily have adapted itself to music; but what composer could have treated successfully such verses as these?—

“Mayflower, Mayflower, slowly hither flying,Trembling westward o’er yon balking sea,Hearts within, ‘Farewell, dear England,’ sighing,Winds without, ‘But dear in vain,’ replying,Gray-lipp’d waves about thee shouted, crying,‘No! it shall not be!’“Jamestown, out of thee—Plymouth, thee—thee, Albany—Winter cries, ‘Ye freeze; away!’Fever cries, ‘Ye burn; away!’Hunger cries, ‘Ye starve; away!’Vengeance cries, ‘Your graves shall stay!’“Hark!Huguenots whispering ‘Yea’ in the dark,Puritans answering ‘Yea’ in the dark!‘Yea,’ like an arrow shot true to his mark,Darts through the tyrannous heart of Denial.Patience and Labor and solemn-souled Trial,Foiled, still beginning,Soiled, but not sinning,Toil through the stertorous death of the Night,Toil, when wild brother-wars new-dark the light,Toil, and forgive, and kiss o’er, and re-plight.”

“Mayflower, Mayflower, slowly hither flying,Trembling westward o’er yon balking sea,Hearts within, ‘Farewell, dear England,’ sighing,Winds without, ‘But dear in vain,’ replying,Gray-lipp’d waves about thee shouted, crying,‘No! it shall not be!’

“Mayflower, Mayflower, slowly hither flying,

Trembling westward o’er yon balking sea,

Hearts within, ‘Farewell, dear England,’ sighing,

Winds without, ‘But dear in vain,’ replying,

Gray-lipp’d waves about thee shouted, crying,

‘No! it shall not be!’

“Jamestown, out of thee—Plymouth, thee—thee, Albany—Winter cries, ‘Ye freeze; away!’Fever cries, ‘Ye burn; away!’Hunger cries, ‘Ye starve; away!’Vengeance cries, ‘Your graves shall stay!’

“Jamestown, out of thee—

Plymouth, thee—thee, Albany—

Winter cries, ‘Ye freeze; away!’

Fever cries, ‘Ye burn; away!’

Hunger cries, ‘Ye starve; away!’

Vengeance cries, ‘Your graves shall stay!’

“Hark!Huguenots whispering ‘Yea’ in the dark,Puritans answering ‘Yea’ in the dark!‘Yea,’ like an arrow shot true to his mark,Darts through the tyrannous heart of Denial.Patience and Labor and solemn-souled Trial,Foiled, still beginning,Soiled, but not sinning,Toil through the stertorous death of the Night,Toil, when wild brother-wars new-dark the light,Toil, and forgive, and kiss o’er, and re-plight.”

“Hark!

Huguenots whispering ‘Yea’ in the dark,

Puritans answering ‘Yea’ in the dark!

‘Yea,’ like an arrow shot true to his mark,

Darts through the tyrannous heart of Denial.

Patience and Labor and solemn-souled Trial,

Foiled, still beginning,

Soiled, but not sinning,

Toil through the stertorous death of the Night,

Toil, when wild brother-wars new-dark the light,

Toil, and forgive, and kiss o’er, and re-plight.”

Even in the last verse, where the composer must make his climax, and the singers must be most effective, they are confronted with this unsingable line:—

“And wave the world’s best lover’s welcome to the world.”

“And wave the world’s best lover’s welcome to the world.”

“And wave the world’s best lover’s welcome to the world.”

The only musical verse is the reply of the angel to Columbia in the midst of her ragged and cacophonous meditation, which the composer selected as a solo for bass voice:[20]—

“Long as thine Art shall love true love,Long as thy Science truth shall know,Long as thine Eagle harms no Dove,Long as thy Law by law shall grow,Long as thy God is God above,Thy brother every man below,So long, dear Land of all my love,Thy name shall shine, thy fame shall grow.”

“Long as thine Art shall love true love,Long as thy Science truth shall know,Long as thine Eagle harms no Dove,Long as thy Law by law shall grow,Long as thy God is God above,Thy brother every man below,So long, dear Land of all my love,Thy name shall shine, thy fame shall grow.”

“Long as thine Art shall love true love,

Long as thy Science truth shall know,

Long as thine Eagle harms no Dove,

Long as thy Law by law shall grow,

Long as thy God is God above,

Thy brother every man below,

So long, dear Land of all my love,

Thy name shall shine, thy fame shall grow.”

The prelude for orchestra determines the motive of the whole cantata, and is very spirited; for here, at least, the composer was not hampered by words. The opening verse,—

“From this hundred-terraced height,”

“From this hundred-terraced height,”

“From this hundred-terraced height,”

is set very effectively in chorale form; but the next two verses, already quoted, are arranged for semi-chorus and full chorus, and close in a vocal stretto quite as hysterical as the words. Then follows the whispering of the Huguenots and Puritans, commencingsotto voce, and gradually increasing to aforteat the close. A few bars for the horn lead to the bass solo, “Long as thine Art,” with horn obligato,—a very impressive and dignified aria, and one which would speedily become a favorite in the concert-room if adapted to the words. The final number (“Music from this Height of Time”) begins in full choral harmony and closes with a vigorous and well-written fugue.

[20]Sung upon that occasion by Mr. Myron D. Whitney.

[20]Sung upon that occasion by Mr. Myron D. Whitney.

The Golden Legend.“The Golden Legend” was written in competition for the prize of one thousand dollars, which the Cincinnati May Festival Association offered in 1879 for the best work of a native composer. The judges were Theodore Thomas, Otto Singer, Asgar Hamerik, Carl Zerrahn, and the late Dr. Leopold Damrosch. Their award was made to “The Golden Legend,” and it was first performed at the Festival of 1880,with Miss Annie B. Norton as Elsie, Mr. Frederick Harvey as Prince Henry, Mr. J. F. Rudolphsen as Lucifer, and Mr. M. D. Whitney as Friar Paul.The text of the cantata is composed of a prologue, epilogue, and twelve scenes taken from Longfellow’s Episode in “Christus” by the same name. The mediæval story is a very simple one. Prince Henry of Hoheneck, stricken down with an incurable ailment, after vainly seeking a remedy, is visited by Lucifer disguised as a physician, who tempts him to adopt a remedy prescribed by a doctor of Salerno; namely, the blood of a maiden who will voluntarily offer herself as a sacrifice. Elsie devotes her life to the Prince, and they journey together to Salerno, where her death must take place. Arrived at the spot, the Prince, touched by her magnanimity, entreats her to forego her purpose; but she insists upon it, bids him farewell in the school, and enters an inner apartment with Lucifer disguised as a friar. Before the tragedy can be consummated, the Prince bursts open the door, with the aid of his followers, and rescues her. The pair return to the castle on the Rhine, where of course the rapidly convalescing Prince marries Elsie, and the story closes with an epilogue reciting the discomfiture of Lucifer and the triumph of good over evil.Out of this material the composer has constructed his work, eliminating from and adding to the original matter to suit his musical scheme, but at the same time preserving the general spirit of the story. After a very spirited and energetic prelude, the prologuebegins with the fruitless attempt of Lucifer to pull down the cross on the spire of Strasburg cathedral, the protests of the spirits of the air (first and second sopranos), the defiance of the bells (male chorus) as each attempt fails, and the final disappearance of the spirits amid the chanting of the majestic Latin hymn, “Nocte surgentes,” by full chorus in the church, accompanied by the organ. The second scene opens in Prince Henry’s chamber in the tower of the Vautsberg castle, and reminds one of the opening scene of “Faust,” as set by Gounod. After an expressive declamation of his melancholy and his longing for rest and health (“I cannot sleep, my fervid Brain calls up the vanished Past again”), Lucifer appears in a flash of light, dressed as a travelling physician, and a dialogue ensues, the purport of which has already been told, which closes with an ingenious and beautifully-written number for the two voices, accompanied by a four-part chorus of mixed voices and a small semi-chorus of sopranos and altos (“Golden Visions wave and hover”). The fourth scene is an unaccompanied quartet, “The Evening Song,” sung by Elsie, Bertha, Max, and Gottlieb in their peasant home in the Odenwald, as they light the lamps (“O gladsome Light of the Father”). It is a simple, tranquil hymn, but full of that sacred sentiment which this composer expresses so admirably in music. The fifth scene, Elsie’s prayer in her chamber (“My Redeemer and my Lord”), in its calm beauty and religious feeling makes a fitting pendant to the quartet. In the next number, theorchestra is utilized to carry on the action, and in march tempo describes the pilgrimage to Salerno with stately intervals, in which is heard the sacred song, “Urbs cœlestis, urbs beata,” supposed to be sung by the pilgrims “moving slowly on their long journey with uncovered feet.” The seventh scene is laid in the refectory of the convent of Hirschau, in the Black Forest, where Lucifer enters the gaudiolum of monks, disguised as a friar, and sings the rollicking Latin drinking-song, “Ave color vini clari,” which Mr. Edmund C. Stedman versified for this work as follows:—“Hail! thou vintage clear and ruddy!Sweet of taste and fine of body,Through thine aid we soon shall studyHow to make us glorious!“Oh! thy color erubescent!Oh! thy fragrance evanescent!Oh! within the mouth how pleasant!Thou the tongue’s prætorius!“Blest the stomach where thou wendest!Blest the throat which thou distendest!Blest the mouth which thou befriendest,And the lips victorious!Chorus of Monks.“Pour the wine, then, pour it!Let the wave bear all before it!There’s none to score it,So pour it in plenty, pour it!”The next number is for orchestra only, and once more the instruments are used for a continuance of the action by a description of the carousal of themonks in a characteristic allegro bacchanale, the abbot testifying his indignation through the medium of the trombone and the use of the Gregorian melody. The sentiment of the latter is expressed by the following verse:—“What mean this revel and carouse?Is this a tavern and drinking-house?Are you Christian monks or heathen devils,To pollute this convent with your revels?”The ninth scene changes to Genoa. Elsie, on a terrace overlooking the sea, sings a charming aria (“The Night is calm and cloudless”), with a choral refrain of “Kyrie Eleison.” The tenth is a graceful barcarolle for orchestra, but it is somewhat in the nature of an interpolation, and is only connected with the movement of the story by a thin thread, as will be seen from the verse which gives its motive:—“The fisherman who lies afloat,With shadowy sail in yonder boat,Is singing softly to the night.A single step and all is o’er;And thou, dear Elsie, wilt be freeFrom martyrdom and agony.”The eleventh scene is a spirited and beautifully-written male chorus of sailors (“The Wind upon our Quarter lies”). The twelfth reaches the climax in the scene at the college of Salerno between Lucifer, Elsie, and the Prince, with accompaniment of attendants, and is very dramatic throughout. It is followed by a tender love-duet for Elsie and the Prince on the terrace of the castle of Vautsberg,which leads to the epilogue, “O Beauty of Holiness,” for full chorus and orchestra, in which the composer is at his very best both in the construction of the vocal parts and the elaborately worked-up accompaniments.

“The Golden Legend” was written in competition for the prize of one thousand dollars, which the Cincinnati May Festival Association offered in 1879 for the best work of a native composer. The judges were Theodore Thomas, Otto Singer, Asgar Hamerik, Carl Zerrahn, and the late Dr. Leopold Damrosch. Their award was made to “The Golden Legend,” and it was first performed at the Festival of 1880,with Miss Annie B. Norton as Elsie, Mr. Frederick Harvey as Prince Henry, Mr. J. F. Rudolphsen as Lucifer, and Mr. M. D. Whitney as Friar Paul.

The text of the cantata is composed of a prologue, epilogue, and twelve scenes taken from Longfellow’s Episode in “Christus” by the same name. The mediæval story is a very simple one. Prince Henry of Hoheneck, stricken down with an incurable ailment, after vainly seeking a remedy, is visited by Lucifer disguised as a physician, who tempts him to adopt a remedy prescribed by a doctor of Salerno; namely, the blood of a maiden who will voluntarily offer herself as a sacrifice. Elsie devotes her life to the Prince, and they journey together to Salerno, where her death must take place. Arrived at the spot, the Prince, touched by her magnanimity, entreats her to forego her purpose; but she insists upon it, bids him farewell in the school, and enters an inner apartment with Lucifer disguised as a friar. Before the tragedy can be consummated, the Prince bursts open the door, with the aid of his followers, and rescues her. The pair return to the castle on the Rhine, where of course the rapidly convalescing Prince marries Elsie, and the story closes with an epilogue reciting the discomfiture of Lucifer and the triumph of good over evil.

Out of this material the composer has constructed his work, eliminating from and adding to the original matter to suit his musical scheme, but at the same time preserving the general spirit of the story. After a very spirited and energetic prelude, the prologuebegins with the fruitless attempt of Lucifer to pull down the cross on the spire of Strasburg cathedral, the protests of the spirits of the air (first and second sopranos), the defiance of the bells (male chorus) as each attempt fails, and the final disappearance of the spirits amid the chanting of the majestic Latin hymn, “Nocte surgentes,” by full chorus in the church, accompanied by the organ. The second scene opens in Prince Henry’s chamber in the tower of the Vautsberg castle, and reminds one of the opening scene of “Faust,” as set by Gounod. After an expressive declamation of his melancholy and his longing for rest and health (“I cannot sleep, my fervid Brain calls up the vanished Past again”), Lucifer appears in a flash of light, dressed as a travelling physician, and a dialogue ensues, the purport of which has already been told, which closes with an ingenious and beautifully-written number for the two voices, accompanied by a four-part chorus of mixed voices and a small semi-chorus of sopranos and altos (“Golden Visions wave and hover”). The fourth scene is an unaccompanied quartet, “The Evening Song,” sung by Elsie, Bertha, Max, and Gottlieb in their peasant home in the Odenwald, as they light the lamps (“O gladsome Light of the Father”). It is a simple, tranquil hymn, but full of that sacred sentiment which this composer expresses so admirably in music. The fifth scene, Elsie’s prayer in her chamber (“My Redeemer and my Lord”), in its calm beauty and religious feeling makes a fitting pendant to the quartet. In the next number, theorchestra is utilized to carry on the action, and in march tempo describes the pilgrimage to Salerno with stately intervals, in which is heard the sacred song, “Urbs cœlestis, urbs beata,” supposed to be sung by the pilgrims “moving slowly on their long journey with uncovered feet.” The seventh scene is laid in the refectory of the convent of Hirschau, in the Black Forest, where Lucifer enters the gaudiolum of monks, disguised as a friar, and sings the rollicking Latin drinking-song, “Ave color vini clari,” which Mr. Edmund C. Stedman versified for this work as follows:—

“Hail! thou vintage clear and ruddy!Sweet of taste and fine of body,Through thine aid we soon shall studyHow to make us glorious!“Oh! thy color erubescent!Oh! thy fragrance evanescent!Oh! within the mouth how pleasant!Thou the tongue’s prætorius!“Blest the stomach where thou wendest!Blest the throat which thou distendest!Blest the mouth which thou befriendest,And the lips victorious!Chorus of Monks.“Pour the wine, then, pour it!Let the wave bear all before it!There’s none to score it,So pour it in plenty, pour it!”

“Hail! thou vintage clear and ruddy!Sweet of taste and fine of body,Through thine aid we soon shall studyHow to make us glorious!

“Hail! thou vintage clear and ruddy!

Sweet of taste and fine of body,

Through thine aid we soon shall study

How to make us glorious!

“Oh! thy color erubescent!Oh! thy fragrance evanescent!Oh! within the mouth how pleasant!Thou the tongue’s prætorius!

“Oh! thy color erubescent!

Oh! thy fragrance evanescent!

Oh! within the mouth how pleasant!

Thou the tongue’s prætorius!

“Blest the stomach where thou wendest!Blest the throat which thou distendest!Blest the mouth which thou befriendest,And the lips victorious!

“Blest the stomach where thou wendest!

Blest the throat which thou distendest!

Blest the mouth which thou befriendest,

And the lips victorious!

Chorus of Monks.

“Pour the wine, then, pour it!Let the wave bear all before it!There’s none to score it,So pour it in plenty, pour it!”

“Pour the wine, then, pour it!

Let the wave bear all before it!

There’s none to score it,

So pour it in plenty, pour it!”

The next number is for orchestra only, and once more the instruments are used for a continuance of the action by a description of the carousal of themonks in a characteristic allegro bacchanale, the abbot testifying his indignation through the medium of the trombone and the use of the Gregorian melody. The sentiment of the latter is expressed by the following verse:—

“What mean this revel and carouse?Is this a tavern and drinking-house?Are you Christian monks or heathen devils,To pollute this convent with your revels?”

“What mean this revel and carouse?Is this a tavern and drinking-house?Are you Christian monks or heathen devils,To pollute this convent with your revels?”

“What mean this revel and carouse?

Is this a tavern and drinking-house?

Are you Christian monks or heathen devils,

To pollute this convent with your revels?”

The ninth scene changes to Genoa. Elsie, on a terrace overlooking the sea, sings a charming aria (“The Night is calm and cloudless”), with a choral refrain of “Kyrie Eleison.” The tenth is a graceful barcarolle for orchestra, but it is somewhat in the nature of an interpolation, and is only connected with the movement of the story by a thin thread, as will be seen from the verse which gives its motive:—

“The fisherman who lies afloat,With shadowy sail in yonder boat,Is singing softly to the night.A single step and all is o’er;And thou, dear Elsie, wilt be freeFrom martyrdom and agony.”

“The fisherman who lies afloat,With shadowy sail in yonder boat,Is singing softly to the night.A single step and all is o’er;And thou, dear Elsie, wilt be freeFrom martyrdom and agony.”

“The fisherman who lies afloat,

With shadowy sail in yonder boat,

Is singing softly to the night.

A single step and all is o’er;

And thou, dear Elsie, wilt be free

From martyrdom and agony.”

The eleventh scene is a spirited and beautifully-written male chorus of sailors (“The Wind upon our Quarter lies”). The twelfth reaches the climax in the scene at the college of Salerno between Lucifer, Elsie, and the Prince, with accompaniment of attendants, and is very dramatic throughout. It is followed by a tender love-duet for Elsie and the Prince on the terrace of the castle of Vautsberg,which leads to the epilogue, “O Beauty of Holiness,” for full chorus and orchestra, in which the composer is at his very best both in the construction of the vocal parts and the elaborately worked-up accompaniments.

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