MACFARREN.

The Bells of Strasburg.“Die Glocken des Strassburger Münsters” (“The Bells of Strasburg Cathedral”) was written in 1874, and is dedicated to the poet Longfellow, from whose “Golden Legend” the composer took his theme for musical treatment. The cantata, however, does not deal with the beautiful legenditself as related by the old minnesinger, Hartmann von Aue, which Longfellow has told so powerfully in his “Christus,” but simply with the prologue, describing the futile attempt of Lucifer and the Powers of the Air to tear down the cross of the Strasburg Cathedral during the night storm. It was a subject peculiarly attractive to Liszt, as it offered him free scope for his fancies and unlimited opportunity for the display of his unique and sometimes eccentric orchestration. The work is written for barytone solo and mixed chorus, and is divided into two parts,—a short prelude which is entitled “Excelsior” (andante maestoso), and in which this word is several times repeated by the chorus with gradually increasing power from piano to fortissimo; and “The Bells,” which comprises the principal part of the work.The second part opens with a massive introduction (allegro agitato assai), in which the bells, horns, and trumpets play an important part, leading up to the furious invocation of Lucifer:—“Hasten! Hasten!O ye spirits!From its station drag the ponderousCross of iron that to mock usIs uplifted high in air!”Without a break comes the response of the spirits, first and second sopranos, altos, and tenors (“Oh! we cannot, for around it”), followed by the Latin chant of the bells sung by tenors and basses, with a soft tremolo accompaniment:—“Laudo Deum verum!Plebem voco!Congrego clerum!”Again with increasing power Lucifer shouts his command:—“Lower! Lower!Hover downward!Seize the loud, vociferous bells, andClashing, clanging to the pavement,Hurl them from their windy tower!”As before, the chorus responds in a sweet harmonious strain (“All thy Thunders here are harmless”), again followed by the slow and sonorous chant of the bells:—“Defunctos ploro!Pestem fugo!Festa decoro!”Lucifer reiterates his command with constantly increasing energy:—“Shake the casementsBreak the paintedPanes that flame with gold and crimson;Scatter them like leaves of autumn,Swept away before the blast.”In its response this time the chorus is full of energy and impetuosity as it shouts with great power, “O, we cannot! the Archangel Michael flames from every window.” The chant of the bells is now taken by the basses alone:—“Funera plango!Fulgura frango!Sabbato pango!”Lucifer makes his last appeal with all the strength that voice and orchestra can reach:—“Aim your lightningsAt the oakenMassive, iron-studded portals!Sack the house of God, and scatterWide the ashes of the dead.”In the choral response (“The Apostles and the Martyrs wrapped in Mantles”) the sopranos and altos are in unison, making with the first and second tenors a splendid effect. For the last time the first and second basses sing the chant of the bells:—“Excito lentos!Dissipo ventos!Paco cruentos!”With no abatement of vigor the baffled Lucifer sounds his signal for retreat, and the voices reply, sopranos and altos in unison:—“Onward! onward!With the night-wind,Over field and farm and forest,Lonely homestead, darksome hamlet,Blighting all we breathe upon.”As the voices die away, choir, organ, and orchestra join with majestic effect in the intonation of the Gregorian chant:—“Nocte surgentesVigilemus omnes!Laudemus Deum verum.”The cantata shows Liszt’s talent rather than his genius. It is a wonderful mosaic-work of fancies, rather than an original, studied composition with definite purpose. Its motives, while not inspired, are finely conceived, and are presented not only gracefully, but in keeping with the spirituality of the subject.MACFARREN.George Alexander Macfarren, one of the most prominent of modern English composers, was born in London, March 2, 1813. He began the study of music under the tuition of Charles Lucas in 1827. Two years later he entered the Royal Academy of Music, and in 1834 became one of its professors. The latter year dates the beginning of his career as a composer, his first work having been a symphony in F minor. During the next thirty years his important works were as follows: overture, “Chevy Chace” (1836); “Devil’s Opera,” produced at the Lyceum (1838); “Emblematical Tribute on the Queen’s Marriage” and an arrangement of Purcell’s “Dido and Æneas” (1840); editions of “Belshazzar,” “Judas Maccabæus,” and “Jephthah,” for the Handel Society (1843); the opera “Don Quixote” (1846); the opera “Charles II.” (1849); serenata, “The Sleeper Awakened,” and the cantata “Lenora” (1851); the cantata “May Day,” for the Bradford Festival (1856); the cantata “Christmas” (1859); the opera “RobinHood” (1860); the masque “Freya’s Gift” and opera “Jessy Lea” (1863); and the operas “She Stoops to Conquer,” “The Soldier’s Legacy,” and “Helvellyn” (1864). About the last year his sight, which had been impaired for many years, failed. His blindness, however, did not diminish his activity. He still served as professor in the Royal Academy, and dictated compositions,—indeed some of his best works were composed during this time of affliction. In 1873 appeared his oratorio “St. John the Baptist,” which met with an enthusiastic reception at the Bristol Festival of that year. In 1875 he was elected professor of music at Cambridge, to fill the vacancy occasioned by the death of Sterndale Bennett, and in the same year was also appointed principal of the Royal Academy of Music. In 1876 his oratorio “The Resurrection” was performed at the Birmingham Festival, and in 1877 the oratorio “Joseph” at Leeds, besides the cantata “The Lady of the Lake” at Glasgow. Grove catalogues his other compositions as follows: a cathedral service, anthems, chants, psalm-tunes, and introits for the Holy Days and Seasons of the English Church (1866); “Songs in a Cornfield” (1868); “Shakspeare Songs for Four Voices” (1860-64); songs from Lane’s “Arabian Nights,” and Kingsley’s and Tennyson’s poems: overtures to “The Merchant of Venice,” “Romeo and Juliet,” “Hamlet,” and “Don Carlos;” symphonies, string quartets, and a quintet; a concerto for violin and orchestra; and sonatas for piano-forte alone, and in combinationwith other instruments. As lecturer, writer, and critic, Sir George Macfarren also holds a high place, among his important works being “Rudiments of Harmony” (1860); six Lectures on Harmony (1867); analyses of oratorios for the Sacred Harmonic Society (1853-57), and of orchestral works for the Philharmonic Society (1869-71); and a “Musical History,” being a reprint of an article on this subject contributed by him to the Encyclopædia Britannica.Christmas.“Christmas,” the poem by John Oxenford, was written in 1859, and was first performed at one of the concerts of the Musical Society of London, on the 9th of May 1860. The poem itself contains no story. It is merely a tribute to the season; but at the same time it is not destitute of incident, so that it possesses considerable dramatic interest.After a short instrumental introduction the cantata opens with a double chorus in antiphonal style, in which both the bright and the dark sides of winter are celebrated. The second choir takes up the theme:—“The trees lift up their branches bareAgainst the sky:Through the keen and nipping airFor spring’s return they seem to cry,As the winds with solemn toneAbout them sadly moan;”and the first choir replies:—“Old Winter’s hand is always free,He scatters diamonds round;They dart their light from every tree,They glisten on the ground.Then who shall call the branches bare,When gems like those are sparkling there?”The two then join and bring their friendly contest to a close:—2nd Choir.—“Come in, and closely shut the doorAgainst the wintry weather;Of frost and snow we’ll think no more,While round the fire we sit together.”1st Choir.—“Rush out from every cottage door,’Tis brave and bracing weather;A madder throng ne’er met before,Than those which now have come together.”This double number, which is very effective, is followed by a soprano recitative and romance (“Welcome, blest Season”), tender and yet joyous in character, which celebrates the delight of friendly reunions at Christmas tide, and the pleasure with which those long absent seek “the old familiar door.” In the next number, an old English carol (“A Blessing on this noble House and all who in it dwell”), Christmas is fairly introduced. It is sung first in unison by full chorus, then changes to harmony, in which one choir retains the melody, and closes with a new subject for orchestral treatment, the united choirs singing the carol. Christmas would not be complete without its story; and thiswe have in the next number for contralto solo and chorus, entitled “A Christmas Tale.” It is preceded by recitative, written in the old English style, and each verse closes with a refrain, first sung as a solo, and then repeated in full harmony by the chorus:—“A bleak and kindless morning had broke on Althenay,Where shunning Danish foemen the good King Alfred lay;‘In search of food our hunters departed long ago,I fear that they have perished, embedded in the snow.’While thus he sadly muses, an aged man he sees,With white hair on his forehead like frost upon the trees.An image of the winter the haggard pilgrim stands,And breathing forth his sorrows, lifts up his withered hands:‘The Heavenly King, who reigns on high,Bless him who hears the poor man’s cry.’“‘Our hearts are moved with pity, thy sufferings we deplore,’Said Alfred’s queen, the gentle, ‘but scanty is our store;One loaf alone is left us.’ ‘Then give it,’ said the King,‘For He who feeds the ravens, yes, He will fresh abundance bring.’The wind was roaring loudly, the snow was falling fast,As from the lofty turret the last, last loaf he cast.An image of the winter, the haggard pilgrim stands,And Alfred’s welcome pittance he catches with his hands.‘The Heavenly King, who reigns on high,Bless him who hears the poor man’s cry.’“The snow is thickly falling, the winter wind is loud,But yonder in the distance appears a joyous crowd.The hunters bring their booty, the peasants bring their corn,And cheering songs of triumph along the blast are borne.Before another morning down-stricken is the foe,And blood of Danish warriors is red upon the snow.Amid the conquering Saxons the aged pilgrim stands,And like a holy prophet exclaims with lifted hands,‘The Heavenly King, who reigns on high,Bless him who hears the poor man’s cry.’”A graceful little duet for female voices (“Little Children, all rejoice”), picturing the delights of childhood and its exemption from care, follows the Saxon story and leads up to the finale, which is choral throughout, and gives all the pleasant details of Christmas cheer,—the feast in the vaulted hall, the baron of beef, the boar with the lemon in his jaw, the pudding, “gem of all the feast,” the generous wassail, and the mistletoe bough with its warning to maids. In delightfully picturesque old English music the joyous scene comes to an end:—“Varied sports the evening close,Dancers form in busy rows:Hoodwink’d lovers roam about,Hope to find the right one out,And when they fail how merry is the shout!Round yon flickering flame of blueUrchins sit, an anxious crew;Dainties rich the bold invite,While from the fire the timid shrink with fright.Welcome all, welcome all.’Tis merry now in the vaulted hall,The mistletoe is overhead,The holly flaunts its berries red,The wassail-bowl goes gayly round;Our mirth awakes the echoes sound,All eyes are bright, all hearts are gay;Thus ends our Christmas day.”MACKENZIE.Alexander C. Mackenzie, one of the very few successful Scotch composers, was born at Edinburgh, in 1847. His father was a musician, and recognizing his son’s talent, sent him to Germany at the age of ten. He began his studies with Ulrich Eduard Stein at Schwartzburg-Sondershausen, and four years later entered the ducal orchestra as violinist. He remained there until 1862, when he went to England to study the violin with M. Sainton. In the same year he was elected king’s scholar of the Royal Academy of Music. Three years later he returned to Edinburgh and established himself as a piano-teacher. The main work of his life, however, has been composition, and to this he has devoted himself with assiduity and remarkable success. Grove catalogues among his works: “Cervantes,” an overture for orchestra; a scherzo, for ditto; overture to a comedy; a string quintet, and many other pieces in MS.; piano-forte quartet in B., op. 11; Trois Morceaux pour Piano, op. 15; two songs, op. 12; besides songs, part-songs, anthems, andpieces for the piano. This catalogue can now be increased by four of the most important works he has produced: a Scotch Rhapsody, introduced into this country by the Theodore Thomas orchestra; the oratorio “Rose of Sharon” (1884); an opera, “The Troubadour” (1885), and the cantata, “The Story of Sayid” (1886), which forms the subject of the subjoined sketch.The Story of Sayid.“The Story of Sayid,” a dramatic cantata in two parts, the libretto by Joseph Bennett, was first produced at the Leeds Triennial Festival, Oct. 13, 1886. Its story is founded upon that of a poem in Edwin Arnold’s “Pearls of the Faith,” and embodies a myth which is current among nearly all Oriental nations. The characters are Ilmas, daughter of Sâwa (soprano); Sayid, an Arab chief (tenor); Sâwa, a Hindoo prince (barytone); a watchman (tenor or barytone); and a horseman (barytone). The opening scene pictures the desolation of the land of Sâwa, caused by the invasion of an Arab band, led by their chieftain, Sayid. In the midst of the popular lamentations a messenger announces the defeat of the Arabs and the capture of their leader, who is brought to the city and sentenced to death on the spot. As Sayid prepares to meet his fate, he is recognized by Sâwa as his rescuer at a time when he was hunting in the hills and perishingwith thirst. He offers him any boon he may ask except that of life. Sayid entreats that he may be allowed to visit his aged father, promising to return afterwards and suffer his fate. When Sâwa asks who will be hostage for him, his own daughter, Ilmas, offers herself. Moved to pity for the Arab, she persists in her offer, and her father at last reluctantly consents. The second scene opens in Ilmas’s palace, and we discover that pity has grown into passion for Sayid during his absence. She is interrupted in her meditations by Sâwa, who enters with his counsellors, and announces that lightnings have flashed from the altars of Siva, and that the gods have demanded that the hostage must suffer in the absence of Sayid. Ilmas bids her attendants array her in bridal robes, and in the next scene appears in an open space near the city gate, surrounded by the court retinue and soldiers, and accompanied by her maidens, strewing flowers in her path. Ilmas is led to the centre of the space and kneels down, the executioner standing over her and awaiting the signal to be given by the watchman when the sun sets. Before that time comes the latter excitedly announces the rapid approach of an Arab horseman. While the crowd stand eagerly waiting his arrival, Sayid gallops through the gateway and presents himself to the Prince. He then turns to Ilmas, who warmly receives him, and affirms that whatever fate may overtake him she shall always cherish his memory. Sâwa relents, bids the Arab live and be his friend, and we infer the happinessof the lovers from the invocation of “Love the Conqueror,” which brings the Damon and Pythias story, to a close.A very brief orchestral prelude introduces the opening chorus with solos:—“Alas! our land is desolate,The children cry for bread;Around, fierce fire and sword devour,Our women wail their dead.“We pray for vengeance on the foe,To death consign them all;Siva, arise and fight for us,Or see thine altars fall.”As the expressive chorus comes to a close, an allegro movement leads to a dialogue between the people and the watchman, and subsequently with the horseman, who announces the approach of the victorious army, followed by a second chorus of the people invoking Siva (“Vishnu, Vishnu, thou hast heard our Cry!”). The scene is very dramatic throughout, and is accompanied by vigorous and suggestive music. The next number is a triumphal march, remarkable for its local color, and gradually increasing in power and effect as the army approaches the city. It is followed by an excited dialogue between Sâwa and Sayid, with choral responses, and leads up to a beautiful melody for Sayid:—“Where sets the sun adown the crimson westMy native valley lies;There by a gentle stream that murmurs restMy father’s tents arise.“Fearing no harm, the happy peasant tills,The woolly flocks increase;The shepherd’s pipe is heard upon the hills,And all around is peace.”Another dramatic scene follows, in which Sâwa consents to Sayid’s return to his father, and accepts Ilmas as his bondswoman, which leads to a very spirited and elaborate melody for the latter (“First of his Prophet’s Warriors he”). The first part closes with the departure of Sayid and a repetition of the choral invocation of Siva.The second part opens in an apartment of Sâwa’s palace, and discloses Ilmas sitting with her maidens, as a thunderstorm dies away in the distance. The latter join in a graceful chorus, which is one of the most beautiful numbers in the cantata:—“Sweet the balmy days of spring,And blushing roses that they bring;But sweeter far is love.”Ilmas answers them in a broad and exultant strain (“Ay, sweet indeed is Love”). As the song ends, Sâwa and attendants enter, and the scene closes with a very dramatic chorus and solos, accompanying the preparations for death. The second scene opens with a solemn march for orchestra, preparing the way for the climax, and leading up to a chorus and solo for Ilmas (“What have these Sounds to do with bridal Robes?”). As she kneels, awaiting her fate, an orchestral interlude, set to the rhythm of the gallop, indicates the rapid approach of Sayid. A short and agitated dialogue follows between thewatchman and the people. Sayid declares his presence, and a graceful duet with Ilmas ensues (“Noble Maiden, low before thee Sayid bows”), leading to a powerful choral finale (“Never before was known a Deed like this”), closing with a stirring outburst for all the voices:—“O Love, thy car triumphalRolls round the subject worldMore glorious than the chariotOf the sun.“We hail thee, Love victorious!Ride on with strength divine,And quench all mortal passionIn thine own.”Jubilee Ode.[29]This work, upon which Dr. Mackenzie has been engaged for some time past, is now complete, and on its way to several distant parts of the Empire, where arrangements are making to perform it in celebration of the Jubilee. Primarily, as our readers know, the Ode was intended for the Crystal Palace only, but it will be given also in Canada, Australia,Trinidad, Cape Colony, etc.; thus standing out from all its fellows as in some sort an Imperial work.Without anticipating the criticism which will follow upon performance, we may here give some idea of the scope and character of the Ode. Mr. Joseph Bennett, the writer of the words, has kept strictly in view the exigencies of a musical setting. He has obviously prepared, not a short poem for readers, but one for musical hearers. Hence a variety of rhythm and structure which otherwise would certainly not have been ventured upon. From the same cause arises also the manner in which the subject is laid out, with a view to contrast of musical effect. We may indicate the nature of this arrangement. In the first vocal number, a chorus, the news of the Jubilee is proclaimed, and its diffusion throughout the Empire called for. The second number, a tenor solo, conveys to the Queen the affectionate greetings of her home-lands, declaring that, to keep the feast with unanimity, all weapons of party warfare are laid aside. In the third number the Colonies and Dependencies pay their homage, the idea worked out being that of a procession passing before the throne. First comes the Dominion, followed by Australia, the smaller colonies and islands, and, lastly, by India. Each of these divisions has a section of the chorus to itself. The fifth number, a soprano solo, dwells upon the personal virtues of the Sovereign; while the sixth, and last, opening with a choral prayer for the Empire,continues with lines leading to the National Anthem, for which a new second verse has been written. How far the writer has been guided by consideration for musical opportunities need not, after this outline sketch, be indicated. The spirit in which Mr. Bennett has approached his theme best appears, perhaps, in the opening verses:—“For fifty years our Queen!Victoria! hail!Take up the cry, glad voices,And pass the strainO’er hill and plain,Peaceful hamlet, roaring city, flowing river,Till all the land rejoices.Wild clanging bells and thund’rous cannonWith your loudest shock the air, and make it quiverFrom Dee to Tamar, Thames to Shannon.“For fifty years our Queen!Victoria! hail!Take up the cry, old ocean,And hoarsely shoutThe words about.British ships and world-wide British lands will cheer them,Rouse an Empire’s full devotion.O blowing wind, come hither, bearingAnswering voices, loud acclaiming. Hark! we hear them.They our loyal pride are sharing.”In setting the words to music, Dr. Mackenzie has necessarily to consider the place of performance and the number of performers. This, however, was an amiable and fortunate obligation, since the result has been to give us a work built upon broad lines, and marked by plainness of structure to an extentunusual with the composer. We think that the music will be found to have a true festive ring, and a majestic solidity befitting the occasion. In the solos, with their more subdued expression, Dr. Mackenzie has kept contrast in view, without sacrifice of simplicity; but it is in the choruses that he best shows himself a master of bold and striking effects. Every bar goes straight to the point, while avoiding the commonplaces that naturally suggest themselves in the writing of festive music. The procession chorus is, in this respect, most noteworthy of all, and may be found no mean rival of that in the “Rose of Sharon.”[29]As the score of Mr. Mackenzie’s Ode has not yet reached this country, the author has taken the liberty of transferring the above analysis of it to his work from the London “Musical Times” for May, 1887. Although its local character may preclude its performance here, it is not improbable that the composition of a composer so eminent will attract attention among American musicians.MASSENET.Jules Émile Frédéric Massenet, a composer as yet but little known in this country, was born at Montaud, France, May 12, 1842. His musical education was obtained in the Paris Conservatory, in which between the years 1859 and 1863 he carried off two first prizes and one second. After leaving the Conservatory, he went to Italy for a time and pursued his studies in composition. On his return to Paris one of his operas, “La Grand Tante,” was produced at the Opéra Comique (1867) through the influence of Ambroise Thomas, and this performance called attention to the works of the rising young musician. In 1872 he brought out “Don Cæsar de Bazan,” an opéra comique in three acts, and in the following year incidental music to the tragedy “Les Erinnyes,” after Æschylus. Among his works written since that time are “Le Roi de Lahore” (1877); “Herodiade” (1882); “Manon” (1885); “Le Cid” (1885); the cantata “Paix et Liberté” (1867); “Marie Magdaleine” (1873); “Eve,” a mystery (1875); “La Vierge,” sacred legend; and “Narcisse,” antique idylle (1878).Among his orchestral works the best known are “Suites d’orchestre;” “Scenes Hongroises;” “Scenes Pittoresques;” “Scenes Dramatiques;” overture “Phèdre;” and “Pompeia,” fantasia-symphony. He has also written numerous songs and piano-forte pieces. His operas thus far have been his most successful works, though several of his large concert pieces have been very favorably received. He now occupies a position in the Paris Conservatory, and is regarded as one of the most promising members of the modern French school.Mary Magdalen.“Mary Magdalen” was written in 1873, and was first performed at the Odéon, Paris, in that year, with Mmes. Viardot and Vidal and MM. Bosquin and Petit in the solo parts. It is styled by its composer a sacred drama, and is divided into three acts, the first entitled “The Magdalen at the Fountain;” the second, “Jesus before the Magdalen;” the third, “Golgotha,” “The Magdalen at the Cross,” and “The Tomb of Jesus and the Resurrection;” the first two scenes in the last act being included in one tableau, and the third in another. The characters represented are Mary Magdalen, Martha, Jesus, and Judas, the chorus parts being assigned to the Disciples, Pharisees, Scribes, publicans, soldiers, servants, holy women, and people.After a short introduction, pastoral in character, the work begins with a scene representing Mary at the fountain of Magdala near sunset, among women, publicans, Scribes, and Pharisees, strolling along the banks of the little stream that flows from it. The women sing a short chorus full of Oriental color anticipating the approach of the beautiful Nazarene. A group of young Magdalens pass along singing blithely of love and gay cavaliers (“C’est l’heure où conduisant de longues Caravanes”), and the song of the women blends with it. Next follows a chorus of the Scribes, discussing this Stranger, and pronouncing Him an impostor, and again the young Magdalens take up their strain. The second number is a pathetic aria by Mary (“O mes Sœurs”), which is full of tender beauty. The women shrink back from her and join in a taunting chorus (“La belle Pécheresse oublie”). Next, Judas appears upon the scene, and servilely saluting Mary counsels her to abandon sadness and return to love, in an aria which is a good illustration of irony in music. It is followed by a powerful and mocking chorus of women, Pharisees, and Scribes (“Vainement tu pleures”), in which she is taunted with her shame, despite her sad appeals for pity. The next scene is an aria and trio. Jesus appears in their midst, and in a calm impressive aria (“Vous qui flétrissez les Erreurs des autres”) rebukes them. Mary prostrates herself at His feet and implores pardon, and the scene closes with a trio for Jesus, Mary, and Judas, leading up to a strong concerted finale closing the act, in whichJesus bids the Magdalen rise and return to her home, whither He is about to repair.The second act opens in the Magdalen’s house, which is richly decorated with flowers and redolent with perfume. It begins with a sensuous female chorus (“Le Seuil est paré de Fleurs rares”) followed by Martha’s admonition to the servants that He who is more powerful than earthly kings cares not for vain shows. The chorus resumes its song, and at its close Judas appears and a long dialogue follows in which Martha rebukes his hypocrisy. As he departs, Mary and Martha in a very graceful duet discourse of the Saviour’s coming, which is interrupted by His presence and invocation of blessing. After a duet between Jesus and Mary, in which He commends her to the Good Shepherd, the act closes with a powerful and very dramatic finale containing Jesus’ rebuke to Judas and His declaration of the coming betrayal, after which the Disciples join in a simple but very effective prayer (“Notre Père, loué soit Nom radieux”).The third act is divided into two tableaux. In the first we have the scene of the crucifixion, the agitated choruses of the groups about the Cross, the mocking strains of the Pharisees bidding Him descend if He is the Master, the sorrowing song of Mary (“O Bien-aimé sous la sombre Couronne”), and the final tragedy. The second is devoted to the resurrection and apparition, which are treated very dramatically, closing with an exultant Easter hymn (“Christ est vivant, ressuscité”).In the first two acts the music is full of rich Oriental color and is gracefully melodious and well adapted to the situation; but in the last act the awful solemnity of the tragedy is somewhat lost in the theatrical manner of its treatment. Indeed it was hardly necessary that the composer should have disclaimed the title of oratorio which some have assigned to the work. His division of it into acts and tableaux was sufficient to indicate that he had the stage in mind when he was writing; or at least that his scheme was operatic in style.MENDELSSOHN.Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy, the son of a Berlin banker, was born at Hamburg, Feb. 3, 1809, and, unlike almost all other composers, was reared in the lap of luxury. He enjoyed every advantage which wealth could procure, with the result that he became highly educated in the other arts as well as in music. His teachers in music were Zelter and Ludwig Berger, and he made such progress that in his ninth year he appeared in public as a pianist in Berlin and afterwards in Paris. The first of his compositions to attract general notice were the overture to Shakspeare’s “Midsummer Night’s Dream” and the little opera “The Marriage of Camacho,” which were brought out in Berlin in 1827. After several concert-tours, in which he met with great success, he resided for some time in Düsseldorf. In 1835 he went to Leipsic as director of the famous Gewandhaus concerts,—which are still given in that city. Two years later he married Cécile Jeanrenaud, the beautiful daughter of a minister of the Reformed Church in Frankfort, andshortly afterwards went to Berlin as general director of church music. In 1843 he returned to his former post in Leipsic, and also took a position in the newly established Conservatory, where he spent the remainder of his days in company with his family, to whom he was closely attached. He has left a large and rich collection of musical works, which are favorites the world over. His three great oratorios are the “Hymn of Praise,” catalogued as a symphony-cantata, “St. Paul,” and “Elijah.” Besides these oratorios, the exquisite music to the “Midsummer Night’s Dream,” which is familiar the world over, and his stately dramatic music to “Antigone,” he has left five symphonies, of which the “Scotch,” the “Italian,” and the “Reformation” are best known; four beautiful overtures, “Ruy Blas,” “Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage,” “Hebrides,” and “Melusina;” the very dramatic cantata, “The Walpurgis Night;” a long list of songs for one or more voices; the incidental music to Racine’s “Athalia;” a very large collection of sacred music, such as psalms, hymns, anthems, and cantatas; several trios and other specimens of chamber music; and the lovely “Songs without Words,” which are to be found upon almost every piano, the beauty and freshness of which time has not impaired. Mendelssohn never wrote a grand opera, owing to his fastidiousness as to a libretto; though he finally obtained one from Geibel on the subject of the “Loreley” which suited him. He had begun to write it, and had finished the finale to thefirst act, when death interrupted his work, Nov. 4, 1847. In addition to the subjoined compositions selected for description, the following may be mentioned as possessing the cantata characteristics: op. 31, the 115th Psalm, for solo, chorus, and orchestra; op. 46, the 95th Psalm, for chorus and orchestra; op. 51, the 114th Psalm, for double chorus and orchestra; op. 78, three Psalms for solo and chorus; op. 91, the 98th Psalm, for double chorus and orchestra; and op. 96, Hymn (“Lass, O Herr mich”) for alto solo, chorus, and orchestra.The Walpurgis Night.It was during his Italian travels in 1831 that Mendelssohn composed the music to Goethe’s poem “The First Walpurgis Night.” His letters throw much and interesting light upon the composition and his ideas while writing it. In a letter written at Rome, Feb. 22, 1831, he says:—“Listen and wonder! Since I left Vienna I have partly composed Goethe’s ‘First Walpurgis Night,’ but have not yet had courage to write it down. The composition has now assumed a form and become a grand cantata, with full orchestra, and may turn out well. At the opening there are songs of spring, etc., and plenty others of the same kind. Afterwards, when the watchmen with their ‘Gabeln, und Zacken, und Eulen,’ make a great noise, the fairy frolics begin, and you know that I have a particular foible for them; the sacrificial Druids then appear with their trombones inC major, when the watchmen come in again in alarm; and here I mean to introduce a light, mysterious, tripping chorus, and lastly to conclude with a grand sacrificial hymn. Do you not think that this might develop into a new style of cantata? I have an instrumental introduction as a matter of course, and the effect of the whole is spirited.”On the 27th of April ensuing he refers to it again:—“I must however return to my witches, so you must forgive my not writing any more to-day. This whole letter seems to hover in uncertainty, or rather I do so in my ‘Walpurgis Night,’ whether I am to introduce the big drum or not. ‘Zacken, Gabeln, und wilde Klapperstöcke’ seem to force me to the big drum, but moderation dissuades me. I certainly am the only person who ever composed for the scene on the Brocken without employing a piccolo-flute, but I can’t help regretting the big drum; and before I can receive Fanny’s[30]advice, the ‘Walpurgis Night’ will be finished and packed up.”On his way back to Germany he writes from Milan, July 13, 1831, to the artist and operatic director, Eduard Devrient:—“I have been writing a large composition that perhaps will one day make some effect,—‘The First Walpurgis Night’ of Goethe. I began it simply because it pleased and excited me; I did not think of any performance. But now that it is finished, I see that it is well suited for a large concert piece, and inmy first subscription concert in Berlin you shall sing the bearded Druid,—the chorus sung by ——, kindly assisted by ——. I have written the part of the Druid into your throstle (by permission), and you will have to sing it out again.”It was several years before the “Walpurgis Night” was publicly performed, and meanwhile it underwent several changes. On the 28th of November, 1842, he writes to his mother:—“I am really anxious to make the ‘Walpurgis Night’ into a symphony-cantata, for which it was originally intended, but did not become so from want of courage on my part.”On the 11th of December of the same year he writes her:—“My ‘Walpurgis Night’ is to appear once more in the second part, in a somewhat different garb indeed from the former one, which was somewhat too richly endowed with trombones, and rather poor in the vocal parts; but to effect this I have been obliged to re-write the whole score from A to Z, and to add two new arias, not to mention the rest of the clipping and cutting. If I don’t like it now, I solemnly vow to give it up for the rest of my life.”The cantata was first publicly performed in Leipsic, Feb. 2, 1843, at a concert, in which it occupied the second part of the programme. It had to stand a severe test of comparison, for the first part was very brilliant, including a Haydn symphony, a Mozart aria, Beethoven’s “Choral Fantasie,” the pianopart played by Madame Schumann, the overture from “Euryanthe,” and the chorus from Weber’s “Lyre and Sword;” but it made a success, and was received with great enthusiasm.The subject of the cantata is a very simple one. The witches of the Northern mythology were supposed to hold their revels on the summit of the Brocken on the eve of the 1st of May (Walpurgis Night), and the details of their wild and infernal “Sabbath” are familiar to every reader of “Faust.” In his separate poem Goethe seeks to go back to the origin of the first Walpurgis Night. May-day eve was consecrated to Saint Walpurgis, who converted the Saxons from Druidism to Christianity, and on that night the evil spirits were said to be abroad. Goethe conceived the idea that the Druids on that night betook themselves to the mountains to celebrate their rites without interference from the Christians, accomplishing their purpose by disguising their sentinels as demons, who, when the Christians approached, ran through the woods with torches, clashed their arms, uttered hideous noises, and thus frightened them away, leaving the Druids free to finish their sacrifices.The cantata begins with an overture in two movements, anallegro con fuocoand anallegro vivace, which describes in vivid tone-colors the passing of the season from winter to spring. The first number is a tenor solo and chorus of Druids, which are full of spring feeling, rising to religious fervor in the close:—“Now May againBreaks winter’s chain,The buds and bloom are springing;No snow is seen,The vales are green,The woodland choirs are singing!Yon mountain heightIs wintry white;Upon it we will gather,—Begin the ancient holy rite;Praise our Almighty Father.”The next number is an alto solo, the warning of an aged woman of the people, which is very dramatic in its style:—“Know ye not a deed so daringDooms us all to die despairing?Know ye not it is forbiddenBy the edicts of our foemen?”The warning is followed by a stately exhortation from the Druid priest (“The man who flies our sacrifice”), leading up to a short chorus of a very stirring character in which the Druids resolve to go on with their rites. It is followed by a pianissimo chorus of the guards whispering to each other to “secure the passes round the glen.” One of them suggests the demon scheme for frightening the enemy, which leads to the chorus:—“Come with torches brightly flashing;Rush along with billets clashing;Through the night-gloom lead and follow,In and out each rocky hollow.Owls and ravens,Howl with us and scare the cravens.”In this chorus the composer has given the freest rein to his fancy, and presents the weird scene in a grotesque chaos of musical effects, both vocal and instrumental, which may fairly be called infernal, and yet preserves form and rhythm throughout. It is followed by an exalted and impressive hymn for bass solo and chorus, which is a relief after the diablerie of the preceding number:—“Restrained by mightWe now by nightIn secret here adore Thee.Still it is dayWhene’er we pray,And humbly bow before Thee.Thou canst assuageOur foemen’s rageAnd shield us from their terrors.The flame aspires!The smoke retires!Thus clear our faith from errors!Our customs quelled,Our rights withheld,Thy light shall shine forever.”Following this impressive hymn comes the terrified warning of the Christian guard (tenor) and the response of his equally terrified comrades:—“Help, my comrades! see a legionYonder comes from Satan’s region!See yon group of witches glidingTo and fro in flames advancing;Some on wolves and dragons riding,See, ah, see them hither prancing!What a clattering troop of evil!Let us, let us quickly fly them!Imp and devilLead the revel;See them caper,Wrapt in clouds of lurid vapor.”As the Christians disappear, scared by the demonruse, the Druids once more, led by their priest, resume their rites, closing with another choral hymn of praise similar in style to the first.[30]His sister.Antigone.Mendelssohn wrote incidental music to four great dramas,—the “Antigone” of Sophocles (1841); the “Œdipus at Colonos” of Sophocles (1843); the “Athalia” of Racine (1843); and the “Midsummer Night’s Dream” of Shakspeare (1843), the overture to which was written by him in 1826. The latter is mainly instrumental. Of the other three, the music to “Antigone” and “Œdipus” is most frequently performed, and for that reason has been selected for description.In June, 1841, the King of Saxony invited Mendelssohn to become his Capellmeister. Frederick William IV. of Prussia had made him a similar offer about the same time. He accepted the latter and removed to Berlin, and the first duty imposed upon him by the King was the composition of music to the “Antigone” of Sophocles. With the assistance of the poet Tieck, who helped arrange the text, the work was accomplished in the short space of eleven days, and was given on the PotsdamCourt stage October 28, to a private audience. It was first performed in public at Leipsic, March 5, 1842. It is written for male chorus and orchestra, and includes seven numbers; namely, 1. Introduction and maestoso (“Strahl des Helios schönstes Licht”); 2. Andante con moto (“Vieles Gewaltige lebt”); 3. Moderato (“Ihr Seligen deren”); 4. Adagio (“O Eros, Allsieger im Kampf”); 5. Recitative and chorus (“Noch toset des Sturmes Gewalt”); 6. Allegro maestoso (“Vielnamiger! Wonn’ und Stolz”); 7. Andante alla marcia (“Hier Kommt er ja selbst”).The following extracts will give a comprehensive view of this powerful and felicitous music. Lampadius, writing of the first public performance, says:—“On the 5th of March the ‘Antigone’ of Sophocles, translated by Donner and set to music by Mendelssohn, was brought out at the Leipsic theatre before a full audience. The composer directed, and was received with great applause. The music indeed was not antique, if to be so it must be played on theσύριγξ, theσάλπιγξ, and theφόρμιγξ, or if the composer must confine himself to that Greek type of melody and harmony of which all we know is that it was extremely simple, and, according to our ideas, meagre; but it was antique completely, in its being filled with the fire of the tragedy and making its spirit intelligible to us moderns, strengthening the meaning of the words, and giving a running musical commentary on them.... With us at Leipsic, as indeed everywhere, the Eros Chorus, with its solemn awe in the presence of thedivine omnipotence of love, and the Bacchus Chorus, which, swinging the thyrsus, celebrates the praise of the Theban maiden’s son in joyous strains, as well as the melodramatic passages, where Antigone enters, wailing, the chamber where her dead lover lay, and whither Creon has borne in his son’s corpse, had an imposing effect. The impression of the whole piece, taken by itself, was very powerful. With amazement our modern world realized the sublimity of the ancient tragic muse, and recognized the ‘great, gigantic fate which exalts man while grinding him to powder.’”Devrient, the director of the opera at Carlsruhe, in his “Recollections of Mendelssohn,” has left a delightful sketch of the composition of the work. He says:—“Felix did not enter upon his task without the fullest consideration. The first suggestion was to set the chorus in unison throughout, and to recitative interspersed with solos; and as nearly as possible to intone or recite the words, with accompaniment of such instruments only as may be supposed in character with the time of Sophocles,—flutes, tubas, and harps, in the absence of lyres. I opposed to this plan that the voice parts would be intolerably monotonous, without the compensatory clearness of the text being attained....“Nevertheless Felix made the attempt to carry out this view, but after a few days he confessed to me that it was impracticable; that I was right in maintaining the impossibility of making the words clear in choral singing, except in a few places that are obviously suited for recitative;[31]that the chanting of a chorus wouldbe vexatiously monotonous, tedious, and unmusical; and that accompaniments for so few instruments would give so little scope for variety of expression that it would make the whole appear as a mere puerile imitation of the ancient music, about which, after all, we knew nothing. He concluded therefore that the choruses must be sung, as the parts must be recited, not to assimilate themselves with the usages of Attic tragedy (which might easily lead us into absurdity) but as we would now express ourselves in speech and song.... With this I fully concurred; and Felix set, so vigorously to work, that in a few weeks he played me sketches, and by the end of September nearly the whole chain of choruses was completed. Besides my delight at the beauty of these choruses, they confirmed me in the certainty that Felix’s genius was eminently dramatic. They not only gave the key to every scene, the expression to each separate verse, from the narrow complacency of the Theban citizens to their heartful and exalted sympathy, but also a dramatic accent soaring far beyond the words of the poet. I allude particularly to the dithyrambus that occurs between Creon’s attempt to rescue Antigone and the relation of its terrible failure. This song of praise really consists entirely of glorifying appeals to Bacchus, and its dramatic application lies only in the verse:—‘She was its pride,Who, clasping the Thunderer, died;And now, seeking its lost repose,We pray thee to come and heal its woes.Oh, hither bend;From thy Parnassian heights descend.’“To raise this chorus to be the terrible turning-point of the action; to bring here to its culmination thetension excited by the awful impending doom; to give this continually gathering power to the invocation, ‘Hear us, Bacchus!’ till it becomes a cry of agony; to give this exhaustive musical expression to the situation, marks the composer to have a specially dramatic gift. And this is betokened no less in the melodramatic portions. The idea of adding rhythmical accompaniments to spoken words may have been suggested by a few well-set passages in the music to ‘Faust’ by Prince Radziwill. It is to be regretted that the public is scarcely able to appreciate how exquisitely Mendelssohn has done this, since the representatives of Antigone and of Creon are seldom sufficiently musical to enter completely into the composer’s intention; besides that in two passages of the accompanied dialogue of Antigone the words are not correctly set under the music.”Of the private performance before the King and Court, Oct. 28, 1841, the same writer says:—“We had two more rehearsals on the following day, the evening one in the presence of the King, and the performance itself took place on the 28th, before the Court and all the invited celebrities of art and science. It produced a very great sensation. The deep impression that the revival of an ancient tragedy could produce in our theatrical life promised to become an influence; it has purified our musical atmosphere, and it is certain that to Mendelssohn must be ascribed great and important merit in the cause.“Although the learned, of whom each expected the ancient tragedy to be put upon the stage according to his peculiar conception of it (which would of course be totally different in every case) might find the music toomodern, too operatic, in fact, not sufficiently philological, it is undeniable that Mendelssohn’s music has made the tragedy of Sophocles accessible to the sympathies of the general public, without in any wise violating the spirit and aroma of the poem, but rather lending it new life and intelligibility.”[31]The passages, “But see, the son of Menœtius comes,” etc., and “See, Hæmon appears,” etc., are examples.

The Bells of Strasburg.“Die Glocken des Strassburger Münsters” (“The Bells of Strasburg Cathedral”) was written in 1874, and is dedicated to the poet Longfellow, from whose “Golden Legend” the composer took his theme for musical treatment. The cantata, however, does not deal with the beautiful legenditself as related by the old minnesinger, Hartmann von Aue, which Longfellow has told so powerfully in his “Christus,” but simply with the prologue, describing the futile attempt of Lucifer and the Powers of the Air to tear down the cross of the Strasburg Cathedral during the night storm. It was a subject peculiarly attractive to Liszt, as it offered him free scope for his fancies and unlimited opportunity for the display of his unique and sometimes eccentric orchestration. The work is written for barytone solo and mixed chorus, and is divided into two parts,—a short prelude which is entitled “Excelsior” (andante maestoso), and in which this word is several times repeated by the chorus with gradually increasing power from piano to fortissimo; and “The Bells,” which comprises the principal part of the work.The second part opens with a massive introduction (allegro agitato assai), in which the bells, horns, and trumpets play an important part, leading up to the furious invocation of Lucifer:—“Hasten! Hasten!O ye spirits!From its station drag the ponderousCross of iron that to mock usIs uplifted high in air!”Without a break comes the response of the spirits, first and second sopranos, altos, and tenors (“Oh! we cannot, for around it”), followed by the Latin chant of the bells sung by tenors and basses, with a soft tremolo accompaniment:—“Laudo Deum verum!Plebem voco!Congrego clerum!”Again with increasing power Lucifer shouts his command:—“Lower! Lower!Hover downward!Seize the loud, vociferous bells, andClashing, clanging to the pavement,Hurl them from their windy tower!”As before, the chorus responds in a sweet harmonious strain (“All thy Thunders here are harmless”), again followed by the slow and sonorous chant of the bells:—“Defunctos ploro!Pestem fugo!Festa decoro!”Lucifer reiterates his command with constantly increasing energy:—“Shake the casementsBreak the paintedPanes that flame with gold and crimson;Scatter them like leaves of autumn,Swept away before the blast.”In its response this time the chorus is full of energy and impetuosity as it shouts with great power, “O, we cannot! the Archangel Michael flames from every window.” The chant of the bells is now taken by the basses alone:—“Funera plango!Fulgura frango!Sabbato pango!”Lucifer makes his last appeal with all the strength that voice and orchestra can reach:—“Aim your lightningsAt the oakenMassive, iron-studded portals!Sack the house of God, and scatterWide the ashes of the dead.”In the choral response (“The Apostles and the Martyrs wrapped in Mantles”) the sopranos and altos are in unison, making with the first and second tenors a splendid effect. For the last time the first and second basses sing the chant of the bells:—“Excito lentos!Dissipo ventos!Paco cruentos!”With no abatement of vigor the baffled Lucifer sounds his signal for retreat, and the voices reply, sopranos and altos in unison:—“Onward! onward!With the night-wind,Over field and farm and forest,Lonely homestead, darksome hamlet,Blighting all we breathe upon.”As the voices die away, choir, organ, and orchestra join with majestic effect in the intonation of the Gregorian chant:—“Nocte surgentesVigilemus omnes!Laudemus Deum verum.”The cantata shows Liszt’s talent rather than his genius. It is a wonderful mosaic-work of fancies, rather than an original, studied composition with definite purpose. Its motives, while not inspired, are finely conceived, and are presented not only gracefully, but in keeping with the spirituality of the subject.

“Die Glocken des Strassburger Münsters” (“The Bells of Strasburg Cathedral”) was written in 1874, and is dedicated to the poet Longfellow, from whose “Golden Legend” the composer took his theme for musical treatment. The cantata, however, does not deal with the beautiful legenditself as related by the old minnesinger, Hartmann von Aue, which Longfellow has told so powerfully in his “Christus,” but simply with the prologue, describing the futile attempt of Lucifer and the Powers of the Air to tear down the cross of the Strasburg Cathedral during the night storm. It was a subject peculiarly attractive to Liszt, as it offered him free scope for his fancies and unlimited opportunity for the display of his unique and sometimes eccentric orchestration. The work is written for barytone solo and mixed chorus, and is divided into two parts,—a short prelude which is entitled “Excelsior” (andante maestoso), and in which this word is several times repeated by the chorus with gradually increasing power from piano to fortissimo; and “The Bells,” which comprises the principal part of the work.

The second part opens with a massive introduction (allegro agitato assai), in which the bells, horns, and trumpets play an important part, leading up to the furious invocation of Lucifer:—

“Hasten! Hasten!O ye spirits!From its station drag the ponderousCross of iron that to mock usIs uplifted high in air!”

“Hasten! Hasten!O ye spirits!From its station drag the ponderousCross of iron that to mock usIs uplifted high in air!”

“Hasten! Hasten!

O ye spirits!

From its station drag the ponderous

Cross of iron that to mock us

Is uplifted high in air!”

Without a break comes the response of the spirits, first and second sopranos, altos, and tenors (“Oh! we cannot, for around it”), followed by the Latin chant of the bells sung by tenors and basses, with a soft tremolo accompaniment:—

“Laudo Deum verum!Plebem voco!Congrego clerum!”

“Laudo Deum verum!Plebem voco!Congrego clerum!”

“Laudo Deum verum!

Plebem voco!

Congrego clerum!”

Again with increasing power Lucifer shouts his command:—

“Lower! Lower!Hover downward!Seize the loud, vociferous bells, andClashing, clanging to the pavement,Hurl them from their windy tower!”

“Lower! Lower!Hover downward!Seize the loud, vociferous bells, andClashing, clanging to the pavement,Hurl them from their windy tower!”

“Lower! Lower!

Hover downward!

Seize the loud, vociferous bells, and

Clashing, clanging to the pavement,

Hurl them from their windy tower!”

As before, the chorus responds in a sweet harmonious strain (“All thy Thunders here are harmless”), again followed by the slow and sonorous chant of the bells:—

“Defunctos ploro!Pestem fugo!Festa decoro!”

“Defunctos ploro!Pestem fugo!Festa decoro!”

“Defunctos ploro!

Pestem fugo!

Festa decoro!”

Lucifer reiterates his command with constantly increasing energy:—

“Shake the casementsBreak the paintedPanes that flame with gold and crimson;Scatter them like leaves of autumn,Swept away before the blast.”

“Shake the casementsBreak the paintedPanes that flame with gold and crimson;Scatter them like leaves of autumn,Swept away before the blast.”

“Shake the casements

Break the painted

Panes that flame with gold and crimson;

Scatter them like leaves of autumn,

Swept away before the blast.”

In its response this time the chorus is full of energy and impetuosity as it shouts with great power, “O, we cannot! the Archangel Michael flames from every window.” The chant of the bells is now taken by the basses alone:—

“Funera plango!Fulgura frango!Sabbato pango!”

“Funera plango!Fulgura frango!Sabbato pango!”

“Funera plango!

Fulgura frango!

Sabbato pango!”

Lucifer makes his last appeal with all the strength that voice and orchestra can reach:—

“Aim your lightningsAt the oakenMassive, iron-studded portals!Sack the house of God, and scatterWide the ashes of the dead.”

“Aim your lightningsAt the oakenMassive, iron-studded portals!Sack the house of God, and scatterWide the ashes of the dead.”

“Aim your lightnings

At the oaken

Massive, iron-studded portals!

Sack the house of God, and scatter

Wide the ashes of the dead.”

In the choral response (“The Apostles and the Martyrs wrapped in Mantles”) the sopranos and altos are in unison, making with the first and second tenors a splendid effect. For the last time the first and second basses sing the chant of the bells:—

“Excito lentos!Dissipo ventos!Paco cruentos!”

“Excito lentos!Dissipo ventos!Paco cruentos!”

“Excito lentos!

Dissipo ventos!

Paco cruentos!”

With no abatement of vigor the baffled Lucifer sounds his signal for retreat, and the voices reply, sopranos and altos in unison:—

“Onward! onward!With the night-wind,Over field and farm and forest,Lonely homestead, darksome hamlet,Blighting all we breathe upon.”

“Onward! onward!With the night-wind,Over field and farm and forest,Lonely homestead, darksome hamlet,Blighting all we breathe upon.”

“Onward! onward!

With the night-wind,

Over field and farm and forest,

Lonely homestead, darksome hamlet,

Blighting all we breathe upon.”

As the voices die away, choir, organ, and orchestra join with majestic effect in the intonation of the Gregorian chant:—

“Nocte surgentesVigilemus omnes!Laudemus Deum verum.”

“Nocte surgentesVigilemus omnes!Laudemus Deum verum.”

“Nocte surgentes

Vigilemus omnes!

Laudemus Deum verum.”

The cantata shows Liszt’s talent rather than his genius. It is a wonderful mosaic-work of fancies, rather than an original, studied composition with definite purpose. Its motives, while not inspired, are finely conceived, and are presented not only gracefully, but in keeping with the spirituality of the subject.

MACFARREN.George Alexander Macfarren, one of the most prominent of modern English composers, was born in London, March 2, 1813. He began the study of music under the tuition of Charles Lucas in 1827. Two years later he entered the Royal Academy of Music, and in 1834 became one of its professors. The latter year dates the beginning of his career as a composer, his first work having been a symphony in F minor. During the next thirty years his important works were as follows: overture, “Chevy Chace” (1836); “Devil’s Opera,” produced at the Lyceum (1838); “Emblematical Tribute on the Queen’s Marriage” and an arrangement of Purcell’s “Dido and Æneas” (1840); editions of “Belshazzar,” “Judas Maccabæus,” and “Jephthah,” for the Handel Society (1843); the opera “Don Quixote” (1846); the opera “Charles II.” (1849); serenata, “The Sleeper Awakened,” and the cantata “Lenora” (1851); the cantata “May Day,” for the Bradford Festival (1856); the cantata “Christmas” (1859); the opera “RobinHood” (1860); the masque “Freya’s Gift” and opera “Jessy Lea” (1863); and the operas “She Stoops to Conquer,” “The Soldier’s Legacy,” and “Helvellyn” (1864). About the last year his sight, which had been impaired for many years, failed. His blindness, however, did not diminish his activity. He still served as professor in the Royal Academy, and dictated compositions,—indeed some of his best works were composed during this time of affliction. In 1873 appeared his oratorio “St. John the Baptist,” which met with an enthusiastic reception at the Bristol Festival of that year. In 1875 he was elected professor of music at Cambridge, to fill the vacancy occasioned by the death of Sterndale Bennett, and in the same year was also appointed principal of the Royal Academy of Music. In 1876 his oratorio “The Resurrection” was performed at the Birmingham Festival, and in 1877 the oratorio “Joseph” at Leeds, besides the cantata “The Lady of the Lake” at Glasgow. Grove catalogues his other compositions as follows: a cathedral service, anthems, chants, psalm-tunes, and introits for the Holy Days and Seasons of the English Church (1866); “Songs in a Cornfield” (1868); “Shakspeare Songs for Four Voices” (1860-64); songs from Lane’s “Arabian Nights,” and Kingsley’s and Tennyson’s poems: overtures to “The Merchant of Venice,” “Romeo and Juliet,” “Hamlet,” and “Don Carlos;” symphonies, string quartets, and a quintet; a concerto for violin and orchestra; and sonatas for piano-forte alone, and in combinationwith other instruments. As lecturer, writer, and critic, Sir George Macfarren also holds a high place, among his important works being “Rudiments of Harmony” (1860); six Lectures on Harmony (1867); analyses of oratorios for the Sacred Harmonic Society (1853-57), and of orchestral works for the Philharmonic Society (1869-71); and a “Musical History,” being a reprint of an article on this subject contributed by him to the Encyclopædia Britannica.

George Alexander Macfarren, one of the most prominent of modern English composers, was born in London, March 2, 1813. He began the study of music under the tuition of Charles Lucas in 1827. Two years later he entered the Royal Academy of Music, and in 1834 became one of its professors. The latter year dates the beginning of his career as a composer, his first work having been a symphony in F minor. During the next thirty years his important works were as follows: overture, “Chevy Chace” (1836); “Devil’s Opera,” produced at the Lyceum (1838); “Emblematical Tribute on the Queen’s Marriage” and an arrangement of Purcell’s “Dido and Æneas” (1840); editions of “Belshazzar,” “Judas Maccabæus,” and “Jephthah,” for the Handel Society (1843); the opera “Don Quixote” (1846); the opera “Charles II.” (1849); serenata, “The Sleeper Awakened,” and the cantata “Lenora” (1851); the cantata “May Day,” for the Bradford Festival (1856); the cantata “Christmas” (1859); the opera “RobinHood” (1860); the masque “Freya’s Gift” and opera “Jessy Lea” (1863); and the operas “She Stoops to Conquer,” “The Soldier’s Legacy,” and “Helvellyn” (1864). About the last year his sight, which had been impaired for many years, failed. His blindness, however, did not diminish his activity. He still served as professor in the Royal Academy, and dictated compositions,—indeed some of his best works were composed during this time of affliction. In 1873 appeared his oratorio “St. John the Baptist,” which met with an enthusiastic reception at the Bristol Festival of that year. In 1875 he was elected professor of music at Cambridge, to fill the vacancy occasioned by the death of Sterndale Bennett, and in the same year was also appointed principal of the Royal Academy of Music. In 1876 his oratorio “The Resurrection” was performed at the Birmingham Festival, and in 1877 the oratorio “Joseph” at Leeds, besides the cantata “The Lady of the Lake” at Glasgow. Grove catalogues his other compositions as follows: a cathedral service, anthems, chants, psalm-tunes, and introits for the Holy Days and Seasons of the English Church (1866); “Songs in a Cornfield” (1868); “Shakspeare Songs for Four Voices” (1860-64); songs from Lane’s “Arabian Nights,” and Kingsley’s and Tennyson’s poems: overtures to “The Merchant of Venice,” “Romeo and Juliet,” “Hamlet,” and “Don Carlos;” symphonies, string quartets, and a quintet; a concerto for violin and orchestra; and sonatas for piano-forte alone, and in combinationwith other instruments. As lecturer, writer, and critic, Sir George Macfarren also holds a high place, among his important works being “Rudiments of Harmony” (1860); six Lectures on Harmony (1867); analyses of oratorios for the Sacred Harmonic Society (1853-57), and of orchestral works for the Philharmonic Society (1869-71); and a “Musical History,” being a reprint of an article on this subject contributed by him to the Encyclopædia Britannica.

Christmas.“Christmas,” the poem by John Oxenford, was written in 1859, and was first performed at one of the concerts of the Musical Society of London, on the 9th of May 1860. The poem itself contains no story. It is merely a tribute to the season; but at the same time it is not destitute of incident, so that it possesses considerable dramatic interest.After a short instrumental introduction the cantata opens with a double chorus in antiphonal style, in which both the bright and the dark sides of winter are celebrated. The second choir takes up the theme:—“The trees lift up their branches bareAgainst the sky:Through the keen and nipping airFor spring’s return they seem to cry,As the winds with solemn toneAbout them sadly moan;”and the first choir replies:—“Old Winter’s hand is always free,He scatters diamonds round;They dart their light from every tree,They glisten on the ground.Then who shall call the branches bare,When gems like those are sparkling there?”The two then join and bring their friendly contest to a close:—2nd Choir.—“Come in, and closely shut the doorAgainst the wintry weather;Of frost and snow we’ll think no more,While round the fire we sit together.”1st Choir.—“Rush out from every cottage door,’Tis brave and bracing weather;A madder throng ne’er met before,Than those which now have come together.”This double number, which is very effective, is followed by a soprano recitative and romance (“Welcome, blest Season”), tender and yet joyous in character, which celebrates the delight of friendly reunions at Christmas tide, and the pleasure with which those long absent seek “the old familiar door.” In the next number, an old English carol (“A Blessing on this noble House and all who in it dwell”), Christmas is fairly introduced. It is sung first in unison by full chorus, then changes to harmony, in which one choir retains the melody, and closes with a new subject for orchestral treatment, the united choirs singing the carol. Christmas would not be complete without its story; and thiswe have in the next number for contralto solo and chorus, entitled “A Christmas Tale.” It is preceded by recitative, written in the old English style, and each verse closes with a refrain, first sung as a solo, and then repeated in full harmony by the chorus:—“A bleak and kindless morning had broke on Althenay,Where shunning Danish foemen the good King Alfred lay;‘In search of food our hunters departed long ago,I fear that they have perished, embedded in the snow.’While thus he sadly muses, an aged man he sees,With white hair on his forehead like frost upon the trees.An image of the winter the haggard pilgrim stands,And breathing forth his sorrows, lifts up his withered hands:‘The Heavenly King, who reigns on high,Bless him who hears the poor man’s cry.’“‘Our hearts are moved with pity, thy sufferings we deplore,’Said Alfred’s queen, the gentle, ‘but scanty is our store;One loaf alone is left us.’ ‘Then give it,’ said the King,‘For He who feeds the ravens, yes, He will fresh abundance bring.’The wind was roaring loudly, the snow was falling fast,As from the lofty turret the last, last loaf he cast.An image of the winter, the haggard pilgrim stands,And Alfred’s welcome pittance he catches with his hands.‘The Heavenly King, who reigns on high,Bless him who hears the poor man’s cry.’“The snow is thickly falling, the winter wind is loud,But yonder in the distance appears a joyous crowd.The hunters bring their booty, the peasants bring their corn,And cheering songs of triumph along the blast are borne.Before another morning down-stricken is the foe,And blood of Danish warriors is red upon the snow.Amid the conquering Saxons the aged pilgrim stands,And like a holy prophet exclaims with lifted hands,‘The Heavenly King, who reigns on high,Bless him who hears the poor man’s cry.’”A graceful little duet for female voices (“Little Children, all rejoice”), picturing the delights of childhood and its exemption from care, follows the Saxon story and leads up to the finale, which is choral throughout, and gives all the pleasant details of Christmas cheer,—the feast in the vaulted hall, the baron of beef, the boar with the lemon in his jaw, the pudding, “gem of all the feast,” the generous wassail, and the mistletoe bough with its warning to maids. In delightfully picturesque old English music the joyous scene comes to an end:—“Varied sports the evening close,Dancers form in busy rows:Hoodwink’d lovers roam about,Hope to find the right one out,And when they fail how merry is the shout!Round yon flickering flame of blueUrchins sit, an anxious crew;Dainties rich the bold invite,While from the fire the timid shrink with fright.Welcome all, welcome all.’Tis merry now in the vaulted hall,The mistletoe is overhead,The holly flaunts its berries red,The wassail-bowl goes gayly round;Our mirth awakes the echoes sound,All eyes are bright, all hearts are gay;Thus ends our Christmas day.”

“Christmas,” the poem by John Oxenford, was written in 1859, and was first performed at one of the concerts of the Musical Society of London, on the 9th of May 1860. The poem itself contains no story. It is merely a tribute to the season; but at the same time it is not destitute of incident, so that it possesses considerable dramatic interest.

After a short instrumental introduction the cantata opens with a double chorus in antiphonal style, in which both the bright and the dark sides of winter are celebrated. The second choir takes up the theme:—

“The trees lift up their branches bareAgainst the sky:Through the keen and nipping airFor spring’s return they seem to cry,As the winds with solemn toneAbout them sadly moan;”

“The trees lift up their branches bareAgainst the sky:Through the keen and nipping airFor spring’s return they seem to cry,As the winds with solemn toneAbout them sadly moan;”

“The trees lift up their branches bare

Against the sky:

Through the keen and nipping air

For spring’s return they seem to cry,

As the winds with solemn tone

About them sadly moan;”

and the first choir replies:—

“Old Winter’s hand is always free,He scatters diamonds round;They dart their light from every tree,They glisten on the ground.Then who shall call the branches bare,When gems like those are sparkling there?”

“Old Winter’s hand is always free,He scatters diamonds round;They dart their light from every tree,They glisten on the ground.Then who shall call the branches bare,When gems like those are sparkling there?”

“Old Winter’s hand is always free,

He scatters diamonds round;

They dart their light from every tree,

They glisten on the ground.

Then who shall call the branches bare,

When gems like those are sparkling there?”

The two then join and bring their friendly contest to a close:—

2nd Choir.—“Come in, and closely shut the doorAgainst the wintry weather;Of frost and snow we’ll think no more,While round the fire we sit together.”1st Choir.—“Rush out from every cottage door,’Tis brave and bracing weather;A madder throng ne’er met before,Than those which now have come together.”

2nd Choir.—“Come in, and closely shut the doorAgainst the wintry weather;Of frost and snow we’ll think no more,While round the fire we sit together.”

2nd Choir.—“Come in, and closely shut the door

Against the wintry weather;

Of frost and snow we’ll think no more,

While round the fire we sit together.”

1st Choir.—“Rush out from every cottage door,’Tis brave and bracing weather;A madder throng ne’er met before,Than those which now have come together.”

1st Choir.—“Rush out from every cottage door,

’Tis brave and bracing weather;

A madder throng ne’er met before,

Than those which now have come together.”

This double number, which is very effective, is followed by a soprano recitative and romance (“Welcome, blest Season”), tender and yet joyous in character, which celebrates the delight of friendly reunions at Christmas tide, and the pleasure with which those long absent seek “the old familiar door.” In the next number, an old English carol (“A Blessing on this noble House and all who in it dwell”), Christmas is fairly introduced. It is sung first in unison by full chorus, then changes to harmony, in which one choir retains the melody, and closes with a new subject for orchestral treatment, the united choirs singing the carol. Christmas would not be complete without its story; and thiswe have in the next number for contralto solo and chorus, entitled “A Christmas Tale.” It is preceded by recitative, written in the old English style, and each verse closes with a refrain, first sung as a solo, and then repeated in full harmony by the chorus:—

“A bleak and kindless morning had broke on Althenay,Where shunning Danish foemen the good King Alfred lay;‘In search of food our hunters departed long ago,I fear that they have perished, embedded in the snow.’While thus he sadly muses, an aged man he sees,With white hair on his forehead like frost upon the trees.An image of the winter the haggard pilgrim stands,And breathing forth his sorrows, lifts up his withered hands:‘The Heavenly King, who reigns on high,Bless him who hears the poor man’s cry.’“‘Our hearts are moved with pity, thy sufferings we deplore,’Said Alfred’s queen, the gentle, ‘but scanty is our store;One loaf alone is left us.’ ‘Then give it,’ said the King,‘For He who feeds the ravens, yes, He will fresh abundance bring.’The wind was roaring loudly, the snow was falling fast,As from the lofty turret the last, last loaf he cast.An image of the winter, the haggard pilgrim stands,And Alfred’s welcome pittance he catches with his hands.‘The Heavenly King, who reigns on high,Bless him who hears the poor man’s cry.’“The snow is thickly falling, the winter wind is loud,But yonder in the distance appears a joyous crowd.The hunters bring their booty, the peasants bring their corn,And cheering songs of triumph along the blast are borne.Before another morning down-stricken is the foe,And blood of Danish warriors is red upon the snow.Amid the conquering Saxons the aged pilgrim stands,And like a holy prophet exclaims with lifted hands,‘The Heavenly King, who reigns on high,Bless him who hears the poor man’s cry.’”

“A bleak and kindless morning had broke on Althenay,Where shunning Danish foemen the good King Alfred lay;‘In search of food our hunters departed long ago,I fear that they have perished, embedded in the snow.’While thus he sadly muses, an aged man he sees,With white hair on his forehead like frost upon the trees.An image of the winter the haggard pilgrim stands,And breathing forth his sorrows, lifts up his withered hands:‘The Heavenly King, who reigns on high,Bless him who hears the poor man’s cry.’

“A bleak and kindless morning had broke on Althenay,

Where shunning Danish foemen the good King Alfred lay;

‘In search of food our hunters departed long ago,

I fear that they have perished, embedded in the snow.’

While thus he sadly muses, an aged man he sees,

With white hair on his forehead like frost upon the trees.

An image of the winter the haggard pilgrim stands,

And breathing forth his sorrows, lifts up his withered hands:

‘The Heavenly King, who reigns on high,

Bless him who hears the poor man’s cry.’

“‘Our hearts are moved with pity, thy sufferings we deplore,’Said Alfred’s queen, the gentle, ‘but scanty is our store;One loaf alone is left us.’ ‘Then give it,’ said the King,‘For He who feeds the ravens, yes, He will fresh abundance bring.’The wind was roaring loudly, the snow was falling fast,As from the lofty turret the last, last loaf he cast.An image of the winter, the haggard pilgrim stands,And Alfred’s welcome pittance he catches with his hands.‘The Heavenly King, who reigns on high,Bless him who hears the poor man’s cry.’

“‘Our hearts are moved with pity, thy sufferings we deplore,’

Said Alfred’s queen, the gentle, ‘but scanty is our store;

One loaf alone is left us.’ ‘Then give it,’ said the King,

‘For He who feeds the ravens, yes, He will fresh abundance bring.’

The wind was roaring loudly, the snow was falling fast,

As from the lofty turret the last, last loaf he cast.

An image of the winter, the haggard pilgrim stands,

And Alfred’s welcome pittance he catches with his hands.

‘The Heavenly King, who reigns on high,

Bless him who hears the poor man’s cry.’

“The snow is thickly falling, the winter wind is loud,But yonder in the distance appears a joyous crowd.The hunters bring their booty, the peasants bring their corn,And cheering songs of triumph along the blast are borne.Before another morning down-stricken is the foe,And blood of Danish warriors is red upon the snow.Amid the conquering Saxons the aged pilgrim stands,And like a holy prophet exclaims with lifted hands,‘The Heavenly King, who reigns on high,Bless him who hears the poor man’s cry.’”

“The snow is thickly falling, the winter wind is loud,

But yonder in the distance appears a joyous crowd.

The hunters bring their booty, the peasants bring their corn,

And cheering songs of triumph along the blast are borne.

Before another morning down-stricken is the foe,

And blood of Danish warriors is red upon the snow.

Amid the conquering Saxons the aged pilgrim stands,

And like a holy prophet exclaims with lifted hands,

‘The Heavenly King, who reigns on high,

Bless him who hears the poor man’s cry.’”

A graceful little duet for female voices (“Little Children, all rejoice”), picturing the delights of childhood and its exemption from care, follows the Saxon story and leads up to the finale, which is choral throughout, and gives all the pleasant details of Christmas cheer,—the feast in the vaulted hall, the baron of beef, the boar with the lemon in his jaw, the pudding, “gem of all the feast,” the generous wassail, and the mistletoe bough with its warning to maids. In delightfully picturesque old English music the joyous scene comes to an end:—

“Varied sports the evening close,Dancers form in busy rows:Hoodwink’d lovers roam about,Hope to find the right one out,And when they fail how merry is the shout!Round yon flickering flame of blueUrchins sit, an anxious crew;Dainties rich the bold invite,While from the fire the timid shrink with fright.Welcome all, welcome all.’Tis merry now in the vaulted hall,The mistletoe is overhead,The holly flaunts its berries red,The wassail-bowl goes gayly round;Our mirth awakes the echoes sound,All eyes are bright, all hearts are gay;Thus ends our Christmas day.”

“Varied sports the evening close,Dancers form in busy rows:Hoodwink’d lovers roam about,Hope to find the right one out,And when they fail how merry is the shout!Round yon flickering flame of blueUrchins sit, an anxious crew;Dainties rich the bold invite,While from the fire the timid shrink with fright.Welcome all, welcome all.’Tis merry now in the vaulted hall,The mistletoe is overhead,The holly flaunts its berries red,The wassail-bowl goes gayly round;Our mirth awakes the echoes sound,All eyes are bright, all hearts are gay;Thus ends our Christmas day.”

“Varied sports the evening close,

Dancers form in busy rows:

Hoodwink’d lovers roam about,

Hope to find the right one out,

And when they fail how merry is the shout!

Round yon flickering flame of blue

Urchins sit, an anxious crew;

Dainties rich the bold invite,

While from the fire the timid shrink with fright.

Welcome all, welcome all.

’Tis merry now in the vaulted hall,

The mistletoe is overhead,

The holly flaunts its berries red,

The wassail-bowl goes gayly round;

Our mirth awakes the echoes sound,

All eyes are bright, all hearts are gay;

Thus ends our Christmas day.”

MACKENZIE.Alexander C. Mackenzie, one of the very few successful Scotch composers, was born at Edinburgh, in 1847. His father was a musician, and recognizing his son’s talent, sent him to Germany at the age of ten. He began his studies with Ulrich Eduard Stein at Schwartzburg-Sondershausen, and four years later entered the ducal orchestra as violinist. He remained there until 1862, when he went to England to study the violin with M. Sainton. In the same year he was elected king’s scholar of the Royal Academy of Music. Three years later he returned to Edinburgh and established himself as a piano-teacher. The main work of his life, however, has been composition, and to this he has devoted himself with assiduity and remarkable success. Grove catalogues among his works: “Cervantes,” an overture for orchestra; a scherzo, for ditto; overture to a comedy; a string quintet, and many other pieces in MS.; piano-forte quartet in B., op. 11; Trois Morceaux pour Piano, op. 15; two songs, op. 12; besides songs, part-songs, anthems, andpieces for the piano. This catalogue can now be increased by four of the most important works he has produced: a Scotch Rhapsody, introduced into this country by the Theodore Thomas orchestra; the oratorio “Rose of Sharon” (1884); an opera, “The Troubadour” (1885), and the cantata, “The Story of Sayid” (1886), which forms the subject of the subjoined sketch.

Alexander C. Mackenzie, one of the very few successful Scotch composers, was born at Edinburgh, in 1847. His father was a musician, and recognizing his son’s talent, sent him to Germany at the age of ten. He began his studies with Ulrich Eduard Stein at Schwartzburg-Sondershausen, and four years later entered the ducal orchestra as violinist. He remained there until 1862, when he went to England to study the violin with M. Sainton. In the same year he was elected king’s scholar of the Royal Academy of Music. Three years later he returned to Edinburgh and established himself as a piano-teacher. The main work of his life, however, has been composition, and to this he has devoted himself with assiduity and remarkable success. Grove catalogues among his works: “Cervantes,” an overture for orchestra; a scherzo, for ditto; overture to a comedy; a string quintet, and many other pieces in MS.; piano-forte quartet in B., op. 11; Trois Morceaux pour Piano, op. 15; two songs, op. 12; besides songs, part-songs, anthems, andpieces for the piano. This catalogue can now be increased by four of the most important works he has produced: a Scotch Rhapsody, introduced into this country by the Theodore Thomas orchestra; the oratorio “Rose of Sharon” (1884); an opera, “The Troubadour” (1885), and the cantata, “The Story of Sayid” (1886), which forms the subject of the subjoined sketch.

The Story of Sayid.“The Story of Sayid,” a dramatic cantata in two parts, the libretto by Joseph Bennett, was first produced at the Leeds Triennial Festival, Oct. 13, 1886. Its story is founded upon that of a poem in Edwin Arnold’s “Pearls of the Faith,” and embodies a myth which is current among nearly all Oriental nations. The characters are Ilmas, daughter of Sâwa (soprano); Sayid, an Arab chief (tenor); Sâwa, a Hindoo prince (barytone); a watchman (tenor or barytone); and a horseman (barytone). The opening scene pictures the desolation of the land of Sâwa, caused by the invasion of an Arab band, led by their chieftain, Sayid. In the midst of the popular lamentations a messenger announces the defeat of the Arabs and the capture of their leader, who is brought to the city and sentenced to death on the spot. As Sayid prepares to meet his fate, he is recognized by Sâwa as his rescuer at a time when he was hunting in the hills and perishingwith thirst. He offers him any boon he may ask except that of life. Sayid entreats that he may be allowed to visit his aged father, promising to return afterwards and suffer his fate. When Sâwa asks who will be hostage for him, his own daughter, Ilmas, offers herself. Moved to pity for the Arab, she persists in her offer, and her father at last reluctantly consents. The second scene opens in Ilmas’s palace, and we discover that pity has grown into passion for Sayid during his absence. She is interrupted in her meditations by Sâwa, who enters with his counsellors, and announces that lightnings have flashed from the altars of Siva, and that the gods have demanded that the hostage must suffer in the absence of Sayid. Ilmas bids her attendants array her in bridal robes, and in the next scene appears in an open space near the city gate, surrounded by the court retinue and soldiers, and accompanied by her maidens, strewing flowers in her path. Ilmas is led to the centre of the space and kneels down, the executioner standing over her and awaiting the signal to be given by the watchman when the sun sets. Before that time comes the latter excitedly announces the rapid approach of an Arab horseman. While the crowd stand eagerly waiting his arrival, Sayid gallops through the gateway and presents himself to the Prince. He then turns to Ilmas, who warmly receives him, and affirms that whatever fate may overtake him she shall always cherish his memory. Sâwa relents, bids the Arab live and be his friend, and we infer the happinessof the lovers from the invocation of “Love the Conqueror,” which brings the Damon and Pythias story, to a close.A very brief orchestral prelude introduces the opening chorus with solos:—“Alas! our land is desolate,The children cry for bread;Around, fierce fire and sword devour,Our women wail their dead.“We pray for vengeance on the foe,To death consign them all;Siva, arise and fight for us,Or see thine altars fall.”As the expressive chorus comes to a close, an allegro movement leads to a dialogue between the people and the watchman, and subsequently with the horseman, who announces the approach of the victorious army, followed by a second chorus of the people invoking Siva (“Vishnu, Vishnu, thou hast heard our Cry!”). The scene is very dramatic throughout, and is accompanied by vigorous and suggestive music. The next number is a triumphal march, remarkable for its local color, and gradually increasing in power and effect as the army approaches the city. It is followed by an excited dialogue between Sâwa and Sayid, with choral responses, and leads up to a beautiful melody for Sayid:—“Where sets the sun adown the crimson westMy native valley lies;There by a gentle stream that murmurs restMy father’s tents arise.“Fearing no harm, the happy peasant tills,The woolly flocks increase;The shepherd’s pipe is heard upon the hills,And all around is peace.”Another dramatic scene follows, in which Sâwa consents to Sayid’s return to his father, and accepts Ilmas as his bondswoman, which leads to a very spirited and elaborate melody for the latter (“First of his Prophet’s Warriors he”). The first part closes with the departure of Sayid and a repetition of the choral invocation of Siva.The second part opens in an apartment of Sâwa’s palace, and discloses Ilmas sitting with her maidens, as a thunderstorm dies away in the distance. The latter join in a graceful chorus, which is one of the most beautiful numbers in the cantata:—“Sweet the balmy days of spring,And blushing roses that they bring;But sweeter far is love.”Ilmas answers them in a broad and exultant strain (“Ay, sweet indeed is Love”). As the song ends, Sâwa and attendants enter, and the scene closes with a very dramatic chorus and solos, accompanying the preparations for death. The second scene opens with a solemn march for orchestra, preparing the way for the climax, and leading up to a chorus and solo for Ilmas (“What have these Sounds to do with bridal Robes?”). As she kneels, awaiting her fate, an orchestral interlude, set to the rhythm of the gallop, indicates the rapid approach of Sayid. A short and agitated dialogue follows between thewatchman and the people. Sayid declares his presence, and a graceful duet with Ilmas ensues (“Noble Maiden, low before thee Sayid bows”), leading to a powerful choral finale (“Never before was known a Deed like this”), closing with a stirring outburst for all the voices:—“O Love, thy car triumphalRolls round the subject worldMore glorious than the chariotOf the sun.“We hail thee, Love victorious!Ride on with strength divine,And quench all mortal passionIn thine own.”

“The Story of Sayid,” a dramatic cantata in two parts, the libretto by Joseph Bennett, was first produced at the Leeds Triennial Festival, Oct. 13, 1886. Its story is founded upon that of a poem in Edwin Arnold’s “Pearls of the Faith,” and embodies a myth which is current among nearly all Oriental nations. The characters are Ilmas, daughter of Sâwa (soprano); Sayid, an Arab chief (tenor); Sâwa, a Hindoo prince (barytone); a watchman (tenor or barytone); and a horseman (barytone). The opening scene pictures the desolation of the land of Sâwa, caused by the invasion of an Arab band, led by their chieftain, Sayid. In the midst of the popular lamentations a messenger announces the defeat of the Arabs and the capture of their leader, who is brought to the city and sentenced to death on the spot. As Sayid prepares to meet his fate, he is recognized by Sâwa as his rescuer at a time when he was hunting in the hills and perishingwith thirst. He offers him any boon he may ask except that of life. Sayid entreats that he may be allowed to visit his aged father, promising to return afterwards and suffer his fate. When Sâwa asks who will be hostage for him, his own daughter, Ilmas, offers herself. Moved to pity for the Arab, she persists in her offer, and her father at last reluctantly consents. The second scene opens in Ilmas’s palace, and we discover that pity has grown into passion for Sayid during his absence. She is interrupted in her meditations by Sâwa, who enters with his counsellors, and announces that lightnings have flashed from the altars of Siva, and that the gods have demanded that the hostage must suffer in the absence of Sayid. Ilmas bids her attendants array her in bridal robes, and in the next scene appears in an open space near the city gate, surrounded by the court retinue and soldiers, and accompanied by her maidens, strewing flowers in her path. Ilmas is led to the centre of the space and kneels down, the executioner standing over her and awaiting the signal to be given by the watchman when the sun sets. Before that time comes the latter excitedly announces the rapid approach of an Arab horseman. While the crowd stand eagerly waiting his arrival, Sayid gallops through the gateway and presents himself to the Prince. He then turns to Ilmas, who warmly receives him, and affirms that whatever fate may overtake him she shall always cherish his memory. Sâwa relents, bids the Arab live and be his friend, and we infer the happinessof the lovers from the invocation of “Love the Conqueror,” which brings the Damon and Pythias story, to a close.

A very brief orchestral prelude introduces the opening chorus with solos:—

“Alas! our land is desolate,The children cry for bread;Around, fierce fire and sword devour,Our women wail their dead.“We pray for vengeance on the foe,To death consign them all;Siva, arise and fight for us,Or see thine altars fall.”

“Alas! our land is desolate,The children cry for bread;Around, fierce fire and sword devour,Our women wail their dead.

“Alas! our land is desolate,

The children cry for bread;

Around, fierce fire and sword devour,

Our women wail their dead.

“We pray for vengeance on the foe,To death consign them all;Siva, arise and fight for us,Or see thine altars fall.”

“We pray for vengeance on the foe,

To death consign them all;

Siva, arise and fight for us,

Or see thine altars fall.”

As the expressive chorus comes to a close, an allegro movement leads to a dialogue between the people and the watchman, and subsequently with the horseman, who announces the approach of the victorious army, followed by a second chorus of the people invoking Siva (“Vishnu, Vishnu, thou hast heard our Cry!”). The scene is very dramatic throughout, and is accompanied by vigorous and suggestive music. The next number is a triumphal march, remarkable for its local color, and gradually increasing in power and effect as the army approaches the city. It is followed by an excited dialogue between Sâwa and Sayid, with choral responses, and leads up to a beautiful melody for Sayid:—

“Where sets the sun adown the crimson westMy native valley lies;There by a gentle stream that murmurs restMy father’s tents arise.“Fearing no harm, the happy peasant tills,The woolly flocks increase;The shepherd’s pipe is heard upon the hills,And all around is peace.”

“Where sets the sun adown the crimson westMy native valley lies;There by a gentle stream that murmurs restMy father’s tents arise.

“Where sets the sun adown the crimson west

My native valley lies;

There by a gentle stream that murmurs rest

My father’s tents arise.

“Fearing no harm, the happy peasant tills,The woolly flocks increase;The shepherd’s pipe is heard upon the hills,And all around is peace.”

“Fearing no harm, the happy peasant tills,

The woolly flocks increase;

The shepherd’s pipe is heard upon the hills,

And all around is peace.”

Another dramatic scene follows, in which Sâwa consents to Sayid’s return to his father, and accepts Ilmas as his bondswoman, which leads to a very spirited and elaborate melody for the latter (“First of his Prophet’s Warriors he”). The first part closes with the departure of Sayid and a repetition of the choral invocation of Siva.

The second part opens in an apartment of Sâwa’s palace, and discloses Ilmas sitting with her maidens, as a thunderstorm dies away in the distance. The latter join in a graceful chorus, which is one of the most beautiful numbers in the cantata:—

“Sweet the balmy days of spring,And blushing roses that they bring;But sweeter far is love.”

“Sweet the balmy days of spring,And blushing roses that they bring;But sweeter far is love.”

“Sweet the balmy days of spring,

And blushing roses that they bring;

But sweeter far is love.”

Ilmas answers them in a broad and exultant strain (“Ay, sweet indeed is Love”). As the song ends, Sâwa and attendants enter, and the scene closes with a very dramatic chorus and solos, accompanying the preparations for death. The second scene opens with a solemn march for orchestra, preparing the way for the climax, and leading up to a chorus and solo for Ilmas (“What have these Sounds to do with bridal Robes?”). As she kneels, awaiting her fate, an orchestral interlude, set to the rhythm of the gallop, indicates the rapid approach of Sayid. A short and agitated dialogue follows between thewatchman and the people. Sayid declares his presence, and a graceful duet with Ilmas ensues (“Noble Maiden, low before thee Sayid bows”), leading to a powerful choral finale (“Never before was known a Deed like this”), closing with a stirring outburst for all the voices:—

“O Love, thy car triumphalRolls round the subject worldMore glorious than the chariotOf the sun.“We hail thee, Love victorious!Ride on with strength divine,And quench all mortal passionIn thine own.”

“O Love, thy car triumphalRolls round the subject worldMore glorious than the chariotOf the sun.

“O Love, thy car triumphal

Rolls round the subject world

More glorious than the chariot

Of the sun.

“We hail thee, Love victorious!Ride on with strength divine,And quench all mortal passionIn thine own.”

“We hail thee, Love victorious!

Ride on with strength divine,

And quench all mortal passion

In thine own.”

Jubilee Ode.[29]This work, upon which Dr. Mackenzie has been engaged for some time past, is now complete, and on its way to several distant parts of the Empire, where arrangements are making to perform it in celebration of the Jubilee. Primarily, as our readers know, the Ode was intended for the Crystal Palace only, but it will be given also in Canada, Australia,Trinidad, Cape Colony, etc.; thus standing out from all its fellows as in some sort an Imperial work.Without anticipating the criticism which will follow upon performance, we may here give some idea of the scope and character of the Ode. Mr. Joseph Bennett, the writer of the words, has kept strictly in view the exigencies of a musical setting. He has obviously prepared, not a short poem for readers, but one for musical hearers. Hence a variety of rhythm and structure which otherwise would certainly not have been ventured upon. From the same cause arises also the manner in which the subject is laid out, with a view to contrast of musical effect. We may indicate the nature of this arrangement. In the first vocal number, a chorus, the news of the Jubilee is proclaimed, and its diffusion throughout the Empire called for. The second number, a tenor solo, conveys to the Queen the affectionate greetings of her home-lands, declaring that, to keep the feast with unanimity, all weapons of party warfare are laid aside. In the third number the Colonies and Dependencies pay their homage, the idea worked out being that of a procession passing before the throne. First comes the Dominion, followed by Australia, the smaller colonies and islands, and, lastly, by India. Each of these divisions has a section of the chorus to itself. The fifth number, a soprano solo, dwells upon the personal virtues of the Sovereign; while the sixth, and last, opening with a choral prayer for the Empire,continues with lines leading to the National Anthem, for which a new second verse has been written. How far the writer has been guided by consideration for musical opportunities need not, after this outline sketch, be indicated. The spirit in which Mr. Bennett has approached his theme best appears, perhaps, in the opening verses:—“For fifty years our Queen!Victoria! hail!Take up the cry, glad voices,And pass the strainO’er hill and plain,Peaceful hamlet, roaring city, flowing river,Till all the land rejoices.Wild clanging bells and thund’rous cannonWith your loudest shock the air, and make it quiverFrom Dee to Tamar, Thames to Shannon.“For fifty years our Queen!Victoria! hail!Take up the cry, old ocean,And hoarsely shoutThe words about.British ships and world-wide British lands will cheer them,Rouse an Empire’s full devotion.O blowing wind, come hither, bearingAnswering voices, loud acclaiming. Hark! we hear them.They our loyal pride are sharing.”In setting the words to music, Dr. Mackenzie has necessarily to consider the place of performance and the number of performers. This, however, was an amiable and fortunate obligation, since the result has been to give us a work built upon broad lines, and marked by plainness of structure to an extentunusual with the composer. We think that the music will be found to have a true festive ring, and a majestic solidity befitting the occasion. In the solos, with their more subdued expression, Dr. Mackenzie has kept contrast in view, without sacrifice of simplicity; but it is in the choruses that he best shows himself a master of bold and striking effects. Every bar goes straight to the point, while avoiding the commonplaces that naturally suggest themselves in the writing of festive music. The procession chorus is, in this respect, most noteworthy of all, and may be found no mean rival of that in the “Rose of Sharon.”[29]As the score of Mr. Mackenzie’s Ode has not yet reached this country, the author has taken the liberty of transferring the above analysis of it to his work from the London “Musical Times” for May, 1887. Although its local character may preclude its performance here, it is not improbable that the composition of a composer so eminent will attract attention among American musicians.

This work, upon which Dr. Mackenzie has been engaged for some time past, is now complete, and on its way to several distant parts of the Empire, where arrangements are making to perform it in celebration of the Jubilee. Primarily, as our readers know, the Ode was intended for the Crystal Palace only, but it will be given also in Canada, Australia,Trinidad, Cape Colony, etc.; thus standing out from all its fellows as in some sort an Imperial work.

Without anticipating the criticism which will follow upon performance, we may here give some idea of the scope and character of the Ode. Mr. Joseph Bennett, the writer of the words, has kept strictly in view the exigencies of a musical setting. He has obviously prepared, not a short poem for readers, but one for musical hearers. Hence a variety of rhythm and structure which otherwise would certainly not have been ventured upon. From the same cause arises also the manner in which the subject is laid out, with a view to contrast of musical effect. We may indicate the nature of this arrangement. In the first vocal number, a chorus, the news of the Jubilee is proclaimed, and its diffusion throughout the Empire called for. The second number, a tenor solo, conveys to the Queen the affectionate greetings of her home-lands, declaring that, to keep the feast with unanimity, all weapons of party warfare are laid aside. In the third number the Colonies and Dependencies pay their homage, the idea worked out being that of a procession passing before the throne. First comes the Dominion, followed by Australia, the smaller colonies and islands, and, lastly, by India. Each of these divisions has a section of the chorus to itself. The fifth number, a soprano solo, dwells upon the personal virtues of the Sovereign; while the sixth, and last, opening with a choral prayer for the Empire,continues with lines leading to the National Anthem, for which a new second verse has been written. How far the writer has been guided by consideration for musical opportunities need not, after this outline sketch, be indicated. The spirit in which Mr. Bennett has approached his theme best appears, perhaps, in the opening verses:—

“For fifty years our Queen!Victoria! hail!Take up the cry, glad voices,And pass the strainO’er hill and plain,Peaceful hamlet, roaring city, flowing river,Till all the land rejoices.Wild clanging bells and thund’rous cannonWith your loudest shock the air, and make it quiverFrom Dee to Tamar, Thames to Shannon.“For fifty years our Queen!Victoria! hail!Take up the cry, old ocean,And hoarsely shoutThe words about.British ships and world-wide British lands will cheer them,Rouse an Empire’s full devotion.O blowing wind, come hither, bearingAnswering voices, loud acclaiming. Hark! we hear them.They our loyal pride are sharing.”

“For fifty years our Queen!Victoria! hail!Take up the cry, glad voices,And pass the strainO’er hill and plain,Peaceful hamlet, roaring city, flowing river,Till all the land rejoices.Wild clanging bells and thund’rous cannonWith your loudest shock the air, and make it quiverFrom Dee to Tamar, Thames to Shannon.

“For fifty years our Queen!

Victoria! hail!

Take up the cry, glad voices,

And pass the strain

O’er hill and plain,

Peaceful hamlet, roaring city, flowing river,

Till all the land rejoices.

Wild clanging bells and thund’rous cannon

With your loudest shock the air, and make it quiver

From Dee to Tamar, Thames to Shannon.

“For fifty years our Queen!Victoria! hail!Take up the cry, old ocean,And hoarsely shoutThe words about.British ships and world-wide British lands will cheer them,Rouse an Empire’s full devotion.O blowing wind, come hither, bearingAnswering voices, loud acclaiming. Hark! we hear them.They our loyal pride are sharing.”

“For fifty years our Queen!

Victoria! hail!

Take up the cry, old ocean,

And hoarsely shout

The words about.

British ships and world-wide British lands will cheer them,

Rouse an Empire’s full devotion.

O blowing wind, come hither, bearing

Answering voices, loud acclaiming. Hark! we hear them.

They our loyal pride are sharing.”

In setting the words to music, Dr. Mackenzie has necessarily to consider the place of performance and the number of performers. This, however, was an amiable and fortunate obligation, since the result has been to give us a work built upon broad lines, and marked by plainness of structure to an extentunusual with the composer. We think that the music will be found to have a true festive ring, and a majestic solidity befitting the occasion. In the solos, with their more subdued expression, Dr. Mackenzie has kept contrast in view, without sacrifice of simplicity; but it is in the choruses that he best shows himself a master of bold and striking effects. Every bar goes straight to the point, while avoiding the commonplaces that naturally suggest themselves in the writing of festive music. The procession chorus is, in this respect, most noteworthy of all, and may be found no mean rival of that in the “Rose of Sharon.”

[29]As the score of Mr. Mackenzie’s Ode has not yet reached this country, the author has taken the liberty of transferring the above analysis of it to his work from the London “Musical Times” for May, 1887. Although its local character may preclude its performance here, it is not improbable that the composition of a composer so eminent will attract attention among American musicians.

[29]As the score of Mr. Mackenzie’s Ode has not yet reached this country, the author has taken the liberty of transferring the above analysis of it to his work from the London “Musical Times” for May, 1887. Although its local character may preclude its performance here, it is not improbable that the composition of a composer so eminent will attract attention among American musicians.

MASSENET.Jules Émile Frédéric Massenet, a composer as yet but little known in this country, was born at Montaud, France, May 12, 1842. His musical education was obtained in the Paris Conservatory, in which between the years 1859 and 1863 he carried off two first prizes and one second. After leaving the Conservatory, he went to Italy for a time and pursued his studies in composition. On his return to Paris one of his operas, “La Grand Tante,” was produced at the Opéra Comique (1867) through the influence of Ambroise Thomas, and this performance called attention to the works of the rising young musician. In 1872 he brought out “Don Cæsar de Bazan,” an opéra comique in three acts, and in the following year incidental music to the tragedy “Les Erinnyes,” after Æschylus. Among his works written since that time are “Le Roi de Lahore” (1877); “Herodiade” (1882); “Manon” (1885); “Le Cid” (1885); the cantata “Paix et Liberté” (1867); “Marie Magdaleine” (1873); “Eve,” a mystery (1875); “La Vierge,” sacred legend; and “Narcisse,” antique idylle (1878).Among his orchestral works the best known are “Suites d’orchestre;” “Scenes Hongroises;” “Scenes Pittoresques;” “Scenes Dramatiques;” overture “Phèdre;” and “Pompeia,” fantasia-symphony. He has also written numerous songs and piano-forte pieces. His operas thus far have been his most successful works, though several of his large concert pieces have been very favorably received. He now occupies a position in the Paris Conservatory, and is regarded as one of the most promising members of the modern French school.

Jules Émile Frédéric Massenet, a composer as yet but little known in this country, was born at Montaud, France, May 12, 1842. His musical education was obtained in the Paris Conservatory, in which between the years 1859 and 1863 he carried off two first prizes and one second. After leaving the Conservatory, he went to Italy for a time and pursued his studies in composition. On his return to Paris one of his operas, “La Grand Tante,” was produced at the Opéra Comique (1867) through the influence of Ambroise Thomas, and this performance called attention to the works of the rising young musician. In 1872 he brought out “Don Cæsar de Bazan,” an opéra comique in three acts, and in the following year incidental music to the tragedy “Les Erinnyes,” after Æschylus. Among his works written since that time are “Le Roi de Lahore” (1877); “Herodiade” (1882); “Manon” (1885); “Le Cid” (1885); the cantata “Paix et Liberté” (1867); “Marie Magdaleine” (1873); “Eve,” a mystery (1875); “La Vierge,” sacred legend; and “Narcisse,” antique idylle (1878).Among his orchestral works the best known are “Suites d’orchestre;” “Scenes Hongroises;” “Scenes Pittoresques;” “Scenes Dramatiques;” overture “Phèdre;” and “Pompeia,” fantasia-symphony. He has also written numerous songs and piano-forte pieces. His operas thus far have been his most successful works, though several of his large concert pieces have been very favorably received. He now occupies a position in the Paris Conservatory, and is regarded as one of the most promising members of the modern French school.

Mary Magdalen.“Mary Magdalen” was written in 1873, and was first performed at the Odéon, Paris, in that year, with Mmes. Viardot and Vidal and MM. Bosquin and Petit in the solo parts. It is styled by its composer a sacred drama, and is divided into three acts, the first entitled “The Magdalen at the Fountain;” the second, “Jesus before the Magdalen;” the third, “Golgotha,” “The Magdalen at the Cross,” and “The Tomb of Jesus and the Resurrection;” the first two scenes in the last act being included in one tableau, and the third in another. The characters represented are Mary Magdalen, Martha, Jesus, and Judas, the chorus parts being assigned to the Disciples, Pharisees, Scribes, publicans, soldiers, servants, holy women, and people.After a short introduction, pastoral in character, the work begins with a scene representing Mary at the fountain of Magdala near sunset, among women, publicans, Scribes, and Pharisees, strolling along the banks of the little stream that flows from it. The women sing a short chorus full of Oriental color anticipating the approach of the beautiful Nazarene. A group of young Magdalens pass along singing blithely of love and gay cavaliers (“C’est l’heure où conduisant de longues Caravanes”), and the song of the women blends with it. Next follows a chorus of the Scribes, discussing this Stranger, and pronouncing Him an impostor, and again the young Magdalens take up their strain. The second number is a pathetic aria by Mary (“O mes Sœurs”), which is full of tender beauty. The women shrink back from her and join in a taunting chorus (“La belle Pécheresse oublie”). Next, Judas appears upon the scene, and servilely saluting Mary counsels her to abandon sadness and return to love, in an aria which is a good illustration of irony in music. It is followed by a powerful and mocking chorus of women, Pharisees, and Scribes (“Vainement tu pleures”), in which she is taunted with her shame, despite her sad appeals for pity. The next scene is an aria and trio. Jesus appears in their midst, and in a calm impressive aria (“Vous qui flétrissez les Erreurs des autres”) rebukes them. Mary prostrates herself at His feet and implores pardon, and the scene closes with a trio for Jesus, Mary, and Judas, leading up to a strong concerted finale closing the act, in whichJesus bids the Magdalen rise and return to her home, whither He is about to repair.The second act opens in the Magdalen’s house, which is richly decorated with flowers and redolent with perfume. It begins with a sensuous female chorus (“Le Seuil est paré de Fleurs rares”) followed by Martha’s admonition to the servants that He who is more powerful than earthly kings cares not for vain shows. The chorus resumes its song, and at its close Judas appears and a long dialogue follows in which Martha rebukes his hypocrisy. As he departs, Mary and Martha in a very graceful duet discourse of the Saviour’s coming, which is interrupted by His presence and invocation of blessing. After a duet between Jesus and Mary, in which He commends her to the Good Shepherd, the act closes with a powerful and very dramatic finale containing Jesus’ rebuke to Judas and His declaration of the coming betrayal, after which the Disciples join in a simple but very effective prayer (“Notre Père, loué soit Nom radieux”).The third act is divided into two tableaux. In the first we have the scene of the crucifixion, the agitated choruses of the groups about the Cross, the mocking strains of the Pharisees bidding Him descend if He is the Master, the sorrowing song of Mary (“O Bien-aimé sous la sombre Couronne”), and the final tragedy. The second is devoted to the resurrection and apparition, which are treated very dramatically, closing with an exultant Easter hymn (“Christ est vivant, ressuscité”).In the first two acts the music is full of rich Oriental color and is gracefully melodious and well adapted to the situation; but in the last act the awful solemnity of the tragedy is somewhat lost in the theatrical manner of its treatment. Indeed it was hardly necessary that the composer should have disclaimed the title of oratorio which some have assigned to the work. His division of it into acts and tableaux was sufficient to indicate that he had the stage in mind when he was writing; or at least that his scheme was operatic in style.

“Mary Magdalen” was written in 1873, and was first performed at the Odéon, Paris, in that year, with Mmes. Viardot and Vidal and MM. Bosquin and Petit in the solo parts. It is styled by its composer a sacred drama, and is divided into three acts, the first entitled “The Magdalen at the Fountain;” the second, “Jesus before the Magdalen;” the third, “Golgotha,” “The Magdalen at the Cross,” and “The Tomb of Jesus and the Resurrection;” the first two scenes in the last act being included in one tableau, and the third in another. The characters represented are Mary Magdalen, Martha, Jesus, and Judas, the chorus parts being assigned to the Disciples, Pharisees, Scribes, publicans, soldiers, servants, holy women, and people.

After a short introduction, pastoral in character, the work begins with a scene representing Mary at the fountain of Magdala near sunset, among women, publicans, Scribes, and Pharisees, strolling along the banks of the little stream that flows from it. The women sing a short chorus full of Oriental color anticipating the approach of the beautiful Nazarene. A group of young Magdalens pass along singing blithely of love and gay cavaliers (“C’est l’heure où conduisant de longues Caravanes”), and the song of the women blends with it. Next follows a chorus of the Scribes, discussing this Stranger, and pronouncing Him an impostor, and again the young Magdalens take up their strain. The second number is a pathetic aria by Mary (“O mes Sœurs”), which is full of tender beauty. The women shrink back from her and join in a taunting chorus (“La belle Pécheresse oublie”). Next, Judas appears upon the scene, and servilely saluting Mary counsels her to abandon sadness and return to love, in an aria which is a good illustration of irony in music. It is followed by a powerful and mocking chorus of women, Pharisees, and Scribes (“Vainement tu pleures”), in which she is taunted with her shame, despite her sad appeals for pity. The next scene is an aria and trio. Jesus appears in their midst, and in a calm impressive aria (“Vous qui flétrissez les Erreurs des autres”) rebukes them. Mary prostrates herself at His feet and implores pardon, and the scene closes with a trio for Jesus, Mary, and Judas, leading up to a strong concerted finale closing the act, in whichJesus bids the Magdalen rise and return to her home, whither He is about to repair.

The second act opens in the Magdalen’s house, which is richly decorated with flowers and redolent with perfume. It begins with a sensuous female chorus (“Le Seuil est paré de Fleurs rares”) followed by Martha’s admonition to the servants that He who is more powerful than earthly kings cares not for vain shows. The chorus resumes its song, and at its close Judas appears and a long dialogue follows in which Martha rebukes his hypocrisy. As he departs, Mary and Martha in a very graceful duet discourse of the Saviour’s coming, which is interrupted by His presence and invocation of blessing. After a duet between Jesus and Mary, in which He commends her to the Good Shepherd, the act closes with a powerful and very dramatic finale containing Jesus’ rebuke to Judas and His declaration of the coming betrayal, after which the Disciples join in a simple but very effective prayer (“Notre Père, loué soit Nom radieux”).

The third act is divided into two tableaux. In the first we have the scene of the crucifixion, the agitated choruses of the groups about the Cross, the mocking strains of the Pharisees bidding Him descend if He is the Master, the sorrowing song of Mary (“O Bien-aimé sous la sombre Couronne”), and the final tragedy. The second is devoted to the resurrection and apparition, which are treated very dramatically, closing with an exultant Easter hymn (“Christ est vivant, ressuscité”).

In the first two acts the music is full of rich Oriental color and is gracefully melodious and well adapted to the situation; but in the last act the awful solemnity of the tragedy is somewhat lost in the theatrical manner of its treatment. Indeed it was hardly necessary that the composer should have disclaimed the title of oratorio which some have assigned to the work. His division of it into acts and tableaux was sufficient to indicate that he had the stage in mind when he was writing; or at least that his scheme was operatic in style.

MENDELSSOHN.Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy, the son of a Berlin banker, was born at Hamburg, Feb. 3, 1809, and, unlike almost all other composers, was reared in the lap of luxury. He enjoyed every advantage which wealth could procure, with the result that he became highly educated in the other arts as well as in music. His teachers in music were Zelter and Ludwig Berger, and he made such progress that in his ninth year he appeared in public as a pianist in Berlin and afterwards in Paris. The first of his compositions to attract general notice were the overture to Shakspeare’s “Midsummer Night’s Dream” and the little opera “The Marriage of Camacho,” which were brought out in Berlin in 1827. After several concert-tours, in which he met with great success, he resided for some time in Düsseldorf. In 1835 he went to Leipsic as director of the famous Gewandhaus concerts,—which are still given in that city. Two years later he married Cécile Jeanrenaud, the beautiful daughter of a minister of the Reformed Church in Frankfort, andshortly afterwards went to Berlin as general director of church music. In 1843 he returned to his former post in Leipsic, and also took a position in the newly established Conservatory, where he spent the remainder of his days in company with his family, to whom he was closely attached. He has left a large and rich collection of musical works, which are favorites the world over. His three great oratorios are the “Hymn of Praise,” catalogued as a symphony-cantata, “St. Paul,” and “Elijah.” Besides these oratorios, the exquisite music to the “Midsummer Night’s Dream,” which is familiar the world over, and his stately dramatic music to “Antigone,” he has left five symphonies, of which the “Scotch,” the “Italian,” and the “Reformation” are best known; four beautiful overtures, “Ruy Blas,” “Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage,” “Hebrides,” and “Melusina;” the very dramatic cantata, “The Walpurgis Night;” a long list of songs for one or more voices; the incidental music to Racine’s “Athalia;” a very large collection of sacred music, such as psalms, hymns, anthems, and cantatas; several trios and other specimens of chamber music; and the lovely “Songs without Words,” which are to be found upon almost every piano, the beauty and freshness of which time has not impaired. Mendelssohn never wrote a grand opera, owing to his fastidiousness as to a libretto; though he finally obtained one from Geibel on the subject of the “Loreley” which suited him. He had begun to write it, and had finished the finale to thefirst act, when death interrupted his work, Nov. 4, 1847. In addition to the subjoined compositions selected for description, the following may be mentioned as possessing the cantata characteristics: op. 31, the 115th Psalm, for solo, chorus, and orchestra; op. 46, the 95th Psalm, for chorus and orchestra; op. 51, the 114th Psalm, for double chorus and orchestra; op. 78, three Psalms for solo and chorus; op. 91, the 98th Psalm, for double chorus and orchestra; and op. 96, Hymn (“Lass, O Herr mich”) for alto solo, chorus, and orchestra.

Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy, the son of a Berlin banker, was born at Hamburg, Feb. 3, 1809, and, unlike almost all other composers, was reared in the lap of luxury. He enjoyed every advantage which wealth could procure, with the result that he became highly educated in the other arts as well as in music. His teachers in music were Zelter and Ludwig Berger, and he made such progress that in his ninth year he appeared in public as a pianist in Berlin and afterwards in Paris. The first of his compositions to attract general notice were the overture to Shakspeare’s “Midsummer Night’s Dream” and the little opera “The Marriage of Camacho,” which were brought out in Berlin in 1827. After several concert-tours, in which he met with great success, he resided for some time in Düsseldorf. In 1835 he went to Leipsic as director of the famous Gewandhaus concerts,—which are still given in that city. Two years later he married Cécile Jeanrenaud, the beautiful daughter of a minister of the Reformed Church in Frankfort, andshortly afterwards went to Berlin as general director of church music. In 1843 he returned to his former post in Leipsic, and also took a position in the newly established Conservatory, where he spent the remainder of his days in company with his family, to whom he was closely attached. He has left a large and rich collection of musical works, which are favorites the world over. His three great oratorios are the “Hymn of Praise,” catalogued as a symphony-cantata, “St. Paul,” and “Elijah.” Besides these oratorios, the exquisite music to the “Midsummer Night’s Dream,” which is familiar the world over, and his stately dramatic music to “Antigone,” he has left five symphonies, of which the “Scotch,” the “Italian,” and the “Reformation” are best known; four beautiful overtures, “Ruy Blas,” “Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage,” “Hebrides,” and “Melusina;” the very dramatic cantata, “The Walpurgis Night;” a long list of songs for one or more voices; the incidental music to Racine’s “Athalia;” a very large collection of sacred music, such as psalms, hymns, anthems, and cantatas; several trios and other specimens of chamber music; and the lovely “Songs without Words,” which are to be found upon almost every piano, the beauty and freshness of which time has not impaired. Mendelssohn never wrote a grand opera, owing to his fastidiousness as to a libretto; though he finally obtained one from Geibel on the subject of the “Loreley” which suited him. He had begun to write it, and had finished the finale to thefirst act, when death interrupted his work, Nov. 4, 1847. In addition to the subjoined compositions selected for description, the following may be mentioned as possessing the cantata characteristics: op. 31, the 115th Psalm, for solo, chorus, and orchestra; op. 46, the 95th Psalm, for chorus and orchestra; op. 51, the 114th Psalm, for double chorus and orchestra; op. 78, three Psalms for solo and chorus; op. 91, the 98th Psalm, for double chorus and orchestra; and op. 96, Hymn (“Lass, O Herr mich”) for alto solo, chorus, and orchestra.

The Walpurgis Night.It was during his Italian travels in 1831 that Mendelssohn composed the music to Goethe’s poem “The First Walpurgis Night.” His letters throw much and interesting light upon the composition and his ideas while writing it. In a letter written at Rome, Feb. 22, 1831, he says:—“Listen and wonder! Since I left Vienna I have partly composed Goethe’s ‘First Walpurgis Night,’ but have not yet had courage to write it down. The composition has now assumed a form and become a grand cantata, with full orchestra, and may turn out well. At the opening there are songs of spring, etc., and plenty others of the same kind. Afterwards, when the watchmen with their ‘Gabeln, und Zacken, und Eulen,’ make a great noise, the fairy frolics begin, and you know that I have a particular foible for them; the sacrificial Druids then appear with their trombones inC major, when the watchmen come in again in alarm; and here I mean to introduce a light, mysterious, tripping chorus, and lastly to conclude with a grand sacrificial hymn. Do you not think that this might develop into a new style of cantata? I have an instrumental introduction as a matter of course, and the effect of the whole is spirited.”On the 27th of April ensuing he refers to it again:—“I must however return to my witches, so you must forgive my not writing any more to-day. This whole letter seems to hover in uncertainty, or rather I do so in my ‘Walpurgis Night,’ whether I am to introduce the big drum or not. ‘Zacken, Gabeln, und wilde Klapperstöcke’ seem to force me to the big drum, but moderation dissuades me. I certainly am the only person who ever composed for the scene on the Brocken without employing a piccolo-flute, but I can’t help regretting the big drum; and before I can receive Fanny’s[30]advice, the ‘Walpurgis Night’ will be finished and packed up.”On his way back to Germany he writes from Milan, July 13, 1831, to the artist and operatic director, Eduard Devrient:—“I have been writing a large composition that perhaps will one day make some effect,—‘The First Walpurgis Night’ of Goethe. I began it simply because it pleased and excited me; I did not think of any performance. But now that it is finished, I see that it is well suited for a large concert piece, and inmy first subscription concert in Berlin you shall sing the bearded Druid,—the chorus sung by ——, kindly assisted by ——. I have written the part of the Druid into your throstle (by permission), and you will have to sing it out again.”It was several years before the “Walpurgis Night” was publicly performed, and meanwhile it underwent several changes. On the 28th of November, 1842, he writes to his mother:—“I am really anxious to make the ‘Walpurgis Night’ into a symphony-cantata, for which it was originally intended, but did not become so from want of courage on my part.”On the 11th of December of the same year he writes her:—“My ‘Walpurgis Night’ is to appear once more in the second part, in a somewhat different garb indeed from the former one, which was somewhat too richly endowed with trombones, and rather poor in the vocal parts; but to effect this I have been obliged to re-write the whole score from A to Z, and to add two new arias, not to mention the rest of the clipping and cutting. If I don’t like it now, I solemnly vow to give it up for the rest of my life.”The cantata was first publicly performed in Leipsic, Feb. 2, 1843, at a concert, in which it occupied the second part of the programme. It had to stand a severe test of comparison, for the first part was very brilliant, including a Haydn symphony, a Mozart aria, Beethoven’s “Choral Fantasie,” the pianopart played by Madame Schumann, the overture from “Euryanthe,” and the chorus from Weber’s “Lyre and Sword;” but it made a success, and was received with great enthusiasm.The subject of the cantata is a very simple one. The witches of the Northern mythology were supposed to hold their revels on the summit of the Brocken on the eve of the 1st of May (Walpurgis Night), and the details of their wild and infernal “Sabbath” are familiar to every reader of “Faust.” In his separate poem Goethe seeks to go back to the origin of the first Walpurgis Night. May-day eve was consecrated to Saint Walpurgis, who converted the Saxons from Druidism to Christianity, and on that night the evil spirits were said to be abroad. Goethe conceived the idea that the Druids on that night betook themselves to the mountains to celebrate their rites without interference from the Christians, accomplishing their purpose by disguising their sentinels as demons, who, when the Christians approached, ran through the woods with torches, clashed their arms, uttered hideous noises, and thus frightened them away, leaving the Druids free to finish their sacrifices.The cantata begins with an overture in two movements, anallegro con fuocoand anallegro vivace, which describes in vivid tone-colors the passing of the season from winter to spring. The first number is a tenor solo and chorus of Druids, which are full of spring feeling, rising to religious fervor in the close:—“Now May againBreaks winter’s chain,The buds and bloom are springing;No snow is seen,The vales are green,The woodland choirs are singing!Yon mountain heightIs wintry white;Upon it we will gather,—Begin the ancient holy rite;Praise our Almighty Father.”The next number is an alto solo, the warning of an aged woman of the people, which is very dramatic in its style:—“Know ye not a deed so daringDooms us all to die despairing?Know ye not it is forbiddenBy the edicts of our foemen?”The warning is followed by a stately exhortation from the Druid priest (“The man who flies our sacrifice”), leading up to a short chorus of a very stirring character in which the Druids resolve to go on with their rites. It is followed by a pianissimo chorus of the guards whispering to each other to “secure the passes round the glen.” One of them suggests the demon scheme for frightening the enemy, which leads to the chorus:—“Come with torches brightly flashing;Rush along with billets clashing;Through the night-gloom lead and follow,In and out each rocky hollow.Owls and ravens,Howl with us and scare the cravens.”In this chorus the composer has given the freest rein to his fancy, and presents the weird scene in a grotesque chaos of musical effects, both vocal and instrumental, which may fairly be called infernal, and yet preserves form and rhythm throughout. It is followed by an exalted and impressive hymn for bass solo and chorus, which is a relief after the diablerie of the preceding number:—“Restrained by mightWe now by nightIn secret here adore Thee.Still it is dayWhene’er we pray,And humbly bow before Thee.Thou canst assuageOur foemen’s rageAnd shield us from their terrors.The flame aspires!The smoke retires!Thus clear our faith from errors!Our customs quelled,Our rights withheld,Thy light shall shine forever.”Following this impressive hymn comes the terrified warning of the Christian guard (tenor) and the response of his equally terrified comrades:—“Help, my comrades! see a legionYonder comes from Satan’s region!See yon group of witches glidingTo and fro in flames advancing;Some on wolves and dragons riding,See, ah, see them hither prancing!What a clattering troop of evil!Let us, let us quickly fly them!Imp and devilLead the revel;See them caper,Wrapt in clouds of lurid vapor.”As the Christians disappear, scared by the demonruse, the Druids once more, led by their priest, resume their rites, closing with another choral hymn of praise similar in style to the first.[30]His sister.

It was during his Italian travels in 1831 that Mendelssohn composed the music to Goethe’s poem “The First Walpurgis Night.” His letters throw much and interesting light upon the composition and his ideas while writing it. In a letter written at Rome, Feb. 22, 1831, he says:—

“Listen and wonder! Since I left Vienna I have partly composed Goethe’s ‘First Walpurgis Night,’ but have not yet had courage to write it down. The composition has now assumed a form and become a grand cantata, with full orchestra, and may turn out well. At the opening there are songs of spring, etc., and plenty others of the same kind. Afterwards, when the watchmen with their ‘Gabeln, und Zacken, und Eulen,’ make a great noise, the fairy frolics begin, and you know that I have a particular foible for them; the sacrificial Druids then appear with their trombones inC major, when the watchmen come in again in alarm; and here I mean to introduce a light, mysterious, tripping chorus, and lastly to conclude with a grand sacrificial hymn. Do you not think that this might develop into a new style of cantata? I have an instrumental introduction as a matter of course, and the effect of the whole is spirited.”

On the 27th of April ensuing he refers to it again:—

“I must however return to my witches, so you must forgive my not writing any more to-day. This whole letter seems to hover in uncertainty, or rather I do so in my ‘Walpurgis Night,’ whether I am to introduce the big drum or not. ‘Zacken, Gabeln, und wilde Klapperstöcke’ seem to force me to the big drum, but moderation dissuades me. I certainly am the only person who ever composed for the scene on the Brocken without employing a piccolo-flute, but I can’t help regretting the big drum; and before I can receive Fanny’s[30]advice, the ‘Walpurgis Night’ will be finished and packed up.”

On his way back to Germany he writes from Milan, July 13, 1831, to the artist and operatic director, Eduard Devrient:—

“I have been writing a large composition that perhaps will one day make some effect,—‘The First Walpurgis Night’ of Goethe. I began it simply because it pleased and excited me; I did not think of any performance. But now that it is finished, I see that it is well suited for a large concert piece, and inmy first subscription concert in Berlin you shall sing the bearded Druid,—the chorus sung by ——, kindly assisted by ——. I have written the part of the Druid into your throstle (by permission), and you will have to sing it out again.”

It was several years before the “Walpurgis Night” was publicly performed, and meanwhile it underwent several changes. On the 28th of November, 1842, he writes to his mother:—

“I am really anxious to make the ‘Walpurgis Night’ into a symphony-cantata, for which it was originally intended, but did not become so from want of courage on my part.”

On the 11th of December of the same year he writes her:—

“My ‘Walpurgis Night’ is to appear once more in the second part, in a somewhat different garb indeed from the former one, which was somewhat too richly endowed with trombones, and rather poor in the vocal parts; but to effect this I have been obliged to re-write the whole score from A to Z, and to add two new arias, not to mention the rest of the clipping and cutting. If I don’t like it now, I solemnly vow to give it up for the rest of my life.”

The cantata was first publicly performed in Leipsic, Feb. 2, 1843, at a concert, in which it occupied the second part of the programme. It had to stand a severe test of comparison, for the first part was very brilliant, including a Haydn symphony, a Mozart aria, Beethoven’s “Choral Fantasie,” the pianopart played by Madame Schumann, the overture from “Euryanthe,” and the chorus from Weber’s “Lyre and Sword;” but it made a success, and was received with great enthusiasm.

The subject of the cantata is a very simple one. The witches of the Northern mythology were supposed to hold their revels on the summit of the Brocken on the eve of the 1st of May (Walpurgis Night), and the details of their wild and infernal “Sabbath” are familiar to every reader of “Faust.” In his separate poem Goethe seeks to go back to the origin of the first Walpurgis Night. May-day eve was consecrated to Saint Walpurgis, who converted the Saxons from Druidism to Christianity, and on that night the evil spirits were said to be abroad. Goethe conceived the idea that the Druids on that night betook themselves to the mountains to celebrate their rites without interference from the Christians, accomplishing their purpose by disguising their sentinels as demons, who, when the Christians approached, ran through the woods with torches, clashed their arms, uttered hideous noises, and thus frightened them away, leaving the Druids free to finish their sacrifices.

The cantata begins with an overture in two movements, anallegro con fuocoand anallegro vivace, which describes in vivid tone-colors the passing of the season from winter to spring. The first number is a tenor solo and chorus of Druids, which are full of spring feeling, rising to religious fervor in the close:—

“Now May againBreaks winter’s chain,The buds and bloom are springing;No snow is seen,The vales are green,The woodland choirs are singing!Yon mountain heightIs wintry white;Upon it we will gather,—Begin the ancient holy rite;Praise our Almighty Father.”

“Now May againBreaks winter’s chain,The buds and bloom are springing;No snow is seen,The vales are green,The woodland choirs are singing!Yon mountain heightIs wintry white;Upon it we will gather,—Begin the ancient holy rite;Praise our Almighty Father.”

“Now May again

Breaks winter’s chain,

The buds and bloom are springing;

No snow is seen,

The vales are green,

The woodland choirs are singing!

Yon mountain height

Is wintry white;

Upon it we will gather,—

Begin the ancient holy rite;

Praise our Almighty Father.”

The next number is an alto solo, the warning of an aged woman of the people, which is very dramatic in its style:—

“Know ye not a deed so daringDooms us all to die despairing?Know ye not it is forbiddenBy the edicts of our foemen?”

“Know ye not a deed so daringDooms us all to die despairing?Know ye not it is forbiddenBy the edicts of our foemen?”

“Know ye not a deed so daring

Dooms us all to die despairing?

Know ye not it is forbidden

By the edicts of our foemen?”

The warning is followed by a stately exhortation from the Druid priest (“The man who flies our sacrifice”), leading up to a short chorus of a very stirring character in which the Druids resolve to go on with their rites. It is followed by a pianissimo chorus of the guards whispering to each other to “secure the passes round the glen.” One of them suggests the demon scheme for frightening the enemy, which leads to the chorus:—

“Come with torches brightly flashing;Rush along with billets clashing;Through the night-gloom lead and follow,In and out each rocky hollow.Owls and ravens,Howl with us and scare the cravens.”

“Come with torches brightly flashing;Rush along with billets clashing;Through the night-gloom lead and follow,In and out each rocky hollow.Owls and ravens,Howl with us and scare the cravens.”

“Come with torches brightly flashing;

Rush along with billets clashing;

Through the night-gloom lead and follow,

In and out each rocky hollow.

Owls and ravens,

Howl with us and scare the cravens.”

In this chorus the composer has given the freest rein to his fancy, and presents the weird scene in a grotesque chaos of musical effects, both vocal and instrumental, which may fairly be called infernal, and yet preserves form and rhythm throughout. It is followed by an exalted and impressive hymn for bass solo and chorus, which is a relief after the diablerie of the preceding number:—

“Restrained by mightWe now by nightIn secret here adore Thee.Still it is dayWhene’er we pray,And humbly bow before Thee.Thou canst assuageOur foemen’s rageAnd shield us from their terrors.The flame aspires!The smoke retires!Thus clear our faith from errors!Our customs quelled,Our rights withheld,Thy light shall shine forever.”

“Restrained by mightWe now by nightIn secret here adore Thee.Still it is dayWhene’er we pray,And humbly bow before Thee.Thou canst assuageOur foemen’s rageAnd shield us from their terrors.The flame aspires!The smoke retires!Thus clear our faith from errors!Our customs quelled,Our rights withheld,Thy light shall shine forever.”

“Restrained by might

We now by night

In secret here adore Thee.

Still it is day

Whene’er we pray,

And humbly bow before Thee.

Thou canst assuage

Our foemen’s rage

And shield us from their terrors.

The flame aspires!

The smoke retires!

Thus clear our faith from errors!

Our customs quelled,

Our rights withheld,

Thy light shall shine forever.”

Following this impressive hymn comes the terrified warning of the Christian guard (tenor) and the response of his equally terrified comrades:—

“Help, my comrades! see a legionYonder comes from Satan’s region!See yon group of witches glidingTo and fro in flames advancing;Some on wolves and dragons riding,See, ah, see them hither prancing!What a clattering troop of evil!Let us, let us quickly fly them!Imp and devilLead the revel;See them caper,Wrapt in clouds of lurid vapor.”

“Help, my comrades! see a legionYonder comes from Satan’s region!See yon group of witches glidingTo and fro in flames advancing;Some on wolves and dragons riding,See, ah, see them hither prancing!What a clattering troop of evil!Let us, let us quickly fly them!Imp and devilLead the revel;See them caper,Wrapt in clouds of lurid vapor.”

“Help, my comrades! see a legion

Yonder comes from Satan’s region!

See yon group of witches gliding

To and fro in flames advancing;

Some on wolves and dragons riding,

See, ah, see them hither prancing!

What a clattering troop of evil!

Let us, let us quickly fly them!

Imp and devil

Lead the revel;

See them caper,

Wrapt in clouds of lurid vapor.”

As the Christians disappear, scared by the demonruse, the Druids once more, led by their priest, resume their rites, closing with another choral hymn of praise similar in style to the first.

[30]His sister.

[30]His sister.

Antigone.Mendelssohn wrote incidental music to four great dramas,—the “Antigone” of Sophocles (1841); the “Œdipus at Colonos” of Sophocles (1843); the “Athalia” of Racine (1843); and the “Midsummer Night’s Dream” of Shakspeare (1843), the overture to which was written by him in 1826. The latter is mainly instrumental. Of the other three, the music to “Antigone” and “Œdipus” is most frequently performed, and for that reason has been selected for description.In June, 1841, the King of Saxony invited Mendelssohn to become his Capellmeister. Frederick William IV. of Prussia had made him a similar offer about the same time. He accepted the latter and removed to Berlin, and the first duty imposed upon him by the King was the composition of music to the “Antigone” of Sophocles. With the assistance of the poet Tieck, who helped arrange the text, the work was accomplished in the short space of eleven days, and was given on the PotsdamCourt stage October 28, to a private audience. It was first performed in public at Leipsic, March 5, 1842. It is written for male chorus and orchestra, and includes seven numbers; namely, 1. Introduction and maestoso (“Strahl des Helios schönstes Licht”); 2. Andante con moto (“Vieles Gewaltige lebt”); 3. Moderato (“Ihr Seligen deren”); 4. Adagio (“O Eros, Allsieger im Kampf”); 5. Recitative and chorus (“Noch toset des Sturmes Gewalt”); 6. Allegro maestoso (“Vielnamiger! Wonn’ und Stolz”); 7. Andante alla marcia (“Hier Kommt er ja selbst”).The following extracts will give a comprehensive view of this powerful and felicitous music. Lampadius, writing of the first public performance, says:—“On the 5th of March the ‘Antigone’ of Sophocles, translated by Donner and set to music by Mendelssohn, was brought out at the Leipsic theatre before a full audience. The composer directed, and was received with great applause. The music indeed was not antique, if to be so it must be played on theσύριγξ, theσάλπιγξ, and theφόρμιγξ, or if the composer must confine himself to that Greek type of melody and harmony of which all we know is that it was extremely simple, and, according to our ideas, meagre; but it was antique completely, in its being filled with the fire of the tragedy and making its spirit intelligible to us moderns, strengthening the meaning of the words, and giving a running musical commentary on them.... With us at Leipsic, as indeed everywhere, the Eros Chorus, with its solemn awe in the presence of thedivine omnipotence of love, and the Bacchus Chorus, which, swinging the thyrsus, celebrates the praise of the Theban maiden’s son in joyous strains, as well as the melodramatic passages, where Antigone enters, wailing, the chamber where her dead lover lay, and whither Creon has borne in his son’s corpse, had an imposing effect. The impression of the whole piece, taken by itself, was very powerful. With amazement our modern world realized the sublimity of the ancient tragic muse, and recognized the ‘great, gigantic fate which exalts man while grinding him to powder.’”Devrient, the director of the opera at Carlsruhe, in his “Recollections of Mendelssohn,” has left a delightful sketch of the composition of the work. He says:—“Felix did not enter upon his task without the fullest consideration. The first suggestion was to set the chorus in unison throughout, and to recitative interspersed with solos; and as nearly as possible to intone or recite the words, with accompaniment of such instruments only as may be supposed in character with the time of Sophocles,—flutes, tubas, and harps, in the absence of lyres. I opposed to this plan that the voice parts would be intolerably monotonous, without the compensatory clearness of the text being attained....“Nevertheless Felix made the attempt to carry out this view, but after a few days he confessed to me that it was impracticable; that I was right in maintaining the impossibility of making the words clear in choral singing, except in a few places that are obviously suited for recitative;[31]that the chanting of a chorus wouldbe vexatiously monotonous, tedious, and unmusical; and that accompaniments for so few instruments would give so little scope for variety of expression that it would make the whole appear as a mere puerile imitation of the ancient music, about which, after all, we knew nothing. He concluded therefore that the choruses must be sung, as the parts must be recited, not to assimilate themselves with the usages of Attic tragedy (which might easily lead us into absurdity) but as we would now express ourselves in speech and song.... With this I fully concurred; and Felix set, so vigorously to work, that in a few weeks he played me sketches, and by the end of September nearly the whole chain of choruses was completed. Besides my delight at the beauty of these choruses, they confirmed me in the certainty that Felix’s genius was eminently dramatic. They not only gave the key to every scene, the expression to each separate verse, from the narrow complacency of the Theban citizens to their heartful and exalted sympathy, but also a dramatic accent soaring far beyond the words of the poet. I allude particularly to the dithyrambus that occurs between Creon’s attempt to rescue Antigone and the relation of its terrible failure. This song of praise really consists entirely of glorifying appeals to Bacchus, and its dramatic application lies only in the verse:—‘She was its pride,Who, clasping the Thunderer, died;And now, seeking its lost repose,We pray thee to come and heal its woes.Oh, hither bend;From thy Parnassian heights descend.’“To raise this chorus to be the terrible turning-point of the action; to bring here to its culmination thetension excited by the awful impending doom; to give this continually gathering power to the invocation, ‘Hear us, Bacchus!’ till it becomes a cry of agony; to give this exhaustive musical expression to the situation, marks the composer to have a specially dramatic gift. And this is betokened no less in the melodramatic portions. The idea of adding rhythmical accompaniments to spoken words may have been suggested by a few well-set passages in the music to ‘Faust’ by Prince Radziwill. It is to be regretted that the public is scarcely able to appreciate how exquisitely Mendelssohn has done this, since the representatives of Antigone and of Creon are seldom sufficiently musical to enter completely into the composer’s intention; besides that in two passages of the accompanied dialogue of Antigone the words are not correctly set under the music.”Of the private performance before the King and Court, Oct. 28, 1841, the same writer says:—“We had two more rehearsals on the following day, the evening one in the presence of the King, and the performance itself took place on the 28th, before the Court and all the invited celebrities of art and science. It produced a very great sensation. The deep impression that the revival of an ancient tragedy could produce in our theatrical life promised to become an influence; it has purified our musical atmosphere, and it is certain that to Mendelssohn must be ascribed great and important merit in the cause.“Although the learned, of whom each expected the ancient tragedy to be put upon the stage according to his peculiar conception of it (which would of course be totally different in every case) might find the music toomodern, too operatic, in fact, not sufficiently philological, it is undeniable that Mendelssohn’s music has made the tragedy of Sophocles accessible to the sympathies of the general public, without in any wise violating the spirit and aroma of the poem, but rather lending it new life and intelligibility.”[31]The passages, “But see, the son of Menœtius comes,” etc., and “See, Hæmon appears,” etc., are examples.

Mendelssohn wrote incidental music to four great dramas,—the “Antigone” of Sophocles (1841); the “Œdipus at Colonos” of Sophocles (1843); the “Athalia” of Racine (1843); and the “Midsummer Night’s Dream” of Shakspeare (1843), the overture to which was written by him in 1826. The latter is mainly instrumental. Of the other three, the music to “Antigone” and “Œdipus” is most frequently performed, and for that reason has been selected for description.

In June, 1841, the King of Saxony invited Mendelssohn to become his Capellmeister. Frederick William IV. of Prussia had made him a similar offer about the same time. He accepted the latter and removed to Berlin, and the first duty imposed upon him by the King was the composition of music to the “Antigone” of Sophocles. With the assistance of the poet Tieck, who helped arrange the text, the work was accomplished in the short space of eleven days, and was given on the PotsdamCourt stage October 28, to a private audience. It was first performed in public at Leipsic, March 5, 1842. It is written for male chorus and orchestra, and includes seven numbers; namely, 1. Introduction and maestoso (“Strahl des Helios schönstes Licht”); 2. Andante con moto (“Vieles Gewaltige lebt”); 3. Moderato (“Ihr Seligen deren”); 4. Adagio (“O Eros, Allsieger im Kampf”); 5. Recitative and chorus (“Noch toset des Sturmes Gewalt”); 6. Allegro maestoso (“Vielnamiger! Wonn’ und Stolz”); 7. Andante alla marcia (“Hier Kommt er ja selbst”).

The following extracts will give a comprehensive view of this powerful and felicitous music. Lampadius, writing of the first public performance, says:—

“On the 5th of March the ‘Antigone’ of Sophocles, translated by Donner and set to music by Mendelssohn, was brought out at the Leipsic theatre before a full audience. The composer directed, and was received with great applause. The music indeed was not antique, if to be so it must be played on theσύριγξ, theσάλπιγξ, and theφόρμιγξ, or if the composer must confine himself to that Greek type of melody and harmony of which all we know is that it was extremely simple, and, according to our ideas, meagre; but it was antique completely, in its being filled with the fire of the tragedy and making its spirit intelligible to us moderns, strengthening the meaning of the words, and giving a running musical commentary on them.... With us at Leipsic, as indeed everywhere, the Eros Chorus, with its solemn awe in the presence of thedivine omnipotence of love, and the Bacchus Chorus, which, swinging the thyrsus, celebrates the praise of the Theban maiden’s son in joyous strains, as well as the melodramatic passages, where Antigone enters, wailing, the chamber where her dead lover lay, and whither Creon has borne in his son’s corpse, had an imposing effect. The impression of the whole piece, taken by itself, was very powerful. With amazement our modern world realized the sublimity of the ancient tragic muse, and recognized the ‘great, gigantic fate which exalts man while grinding him to powder.’”

Devrient, the director of the opera at Carlsruhe, in his “Recollections of Mendelssohn,” has left a delightful sketch of the composition of the work. He says:—

“Felix did not enter upon his task without the fullest consideration. The first suggestion was to set the chorus in unison throughout, and to recitative interspersed with solos; and as nearly as possible to intone or recite the words, with accompaniment of such instruments only as may be supposed in character with the time of Sophocles,—flutes, tubas, and harps, in the absence of lyres. I opposed to this plan that the voice parts would be intolerably monotonous, without the compensatory clearness of the text being attained....

“Nevertheless Felix made the attempt to carry out this view, but after a few days he confessed to me that it was impracticable; that I was right in maintaining the impossibility of making the words clear in choral singing, except in a few places that are obviously suited for recitative;[31]that the chanting of a chorus wouldbe vexatiously monotonous, tedious, and unmusical; and that accompaniments for so few instruments would give so little scope for variety of expression that it would make the whole appear as a mere puerile imitation of the ancient music, about which, after all, we knew nothing. He concluded therefore that the choruses must be sung, as the parts must be recited, not to assimilate themselves with the usages of Attic tragedy (which might easily lead us into absurdity) but as we would now express ourselves in speech and song.... With this I fully concurred; and Felix set, so vigorously to work, that in a few weeks he played me sketches, and by the end of September nearly the whole chain of choruses was completed. Besides my delight at the beauty of these choruses, they confirmed me in the certainty that Felix’s genius was eminently dramatic. They not only gave the key to every scene, the expression to each separate verse, from the narrow complacency of the Theban citizens to their heartful and exalted sympathy, but also a dramatic accent soaring far beyond the words of the poet. I allude particularly to the dithyrambus that occurs between Creon’s attempt to rescue Antigone and the relation of its terrible failure. This song of praise really consists entirely of glorifying appeals to Bacchus, and its dramatic application lies only in the verse:—

‘She was its pride,Who, clasping the Thunderer, died;And now, seeking its lost repose,We pray thee to come and heal its woes.Oh, hither bend;From thy Parnassian heights descend.’

‘She was its pride,Who, clasping the Thunderer, died;And now, seeking its lost repose,We pray thee to come and heal its woes.Oh, hither bend;From thy Parnassian heights descend.’

‘She was its pride,

Who, clasping the Thunderer, died;

And now, seeking its lost repose,

We pray thee to come and heal its woes.

Oh, hither bend;

From thy Parnassian heights descend.’

“To raise this chorus to be the terrible turning-point of the action; to bring here to its culmination thetension excited by the awful impending doom; to give this continually gathering power to the invocation, ‘Hear us, Bacchus!’ till it becomes a cry of agony; to give this exhaustive musical expression to the situation, marks the composer to have a specially dramatic gift. And this is betokened no less in the melodramatic portions. The idea of adding rhythmical accompaniments to spoken words may have been suggested by a few well-set passages in the music to ‘Faust’ by Prince Radziwill. It is to be regretted that the public is scarcely able to appreciate how exquisitely Mendelssohn has done this, since the representatives of Antigone and of Creon are seldom sufficiently musical to enter completely into the composer’s intention; besides that in two passages of the accompanied dialogue of Antigone the words are not correctly set under the music.”

Of the private performance before the King and Court, Oct. 28, 1841, the same writer says:—

“We had two more rehearsals on the following day, the evening one in the presence of the King, and the performance itself took place on the 28th, before the Court and all the invited celebrities of art and science. It produced a very great sensation. The deep impression that the revival of an ancient tragedy could produce in our theatrical life promised to become an influence; it has purified our musical atmosphere, and it is certain that to Mendelssohn must be ascribed great and important merit in the cause.

“Although the learned, of whom each expected the ancient tragedy to be put upon the stage according to his peculiar conception of it (which would of course be totally different in every case) might find the music toomodern, too operatic, in fact, not sufficiently philological, it is undeniable that Mendelssohn’s music has made the tragedy of Sophocles accessible to the sympathies of the general public, without in any wise violating the spirit and aroma of the poem, but rather lending it new life and intelligibility.”

[31]The passages, “But see, the son of Menœtius comes,” etc., and “See, Hæmon appears,” etc., are examples.

[31]The passages, “But see, the son of Menœtius comes,” etc., and “See, Hæmon appears,” etc., are examples.

Back to IndexNext