MOZART.

Œdipus at Colonos.The story of “Œdipus Tyrannus” is told in this work in connection with Professor Paine’s composition. The “Œdipus at Colonos,” to which Mendelssohn set music, is the continuation of Sophocles’ tragedy, describing the banishment of the blind hero, the loving care of his daughters, his arrival at Attica, and his death in the gardens of the Eumenides at Colonos, absolved by the fate which had so cruelly pursued him.The music to “Œdipus” was written at the command of the King of Prussia in 1843, and was first produced at Potsdam, Nov. 1, 1845. It contains a short introduction and nine choral numbers. The first and second choruses describe the entrance of Œdipus and Antigone into the grove of the Eumenides, their discovery by the people, the story of his sorrows which he relates to them, his meeting with his daughter Ismene, and the arrival of Theseus the King. The third number is the gem of the work, and is often given on the concert-stage. The free translation of the text for this beautiful double chorus is as follows:—“Strophe.—Thou hast come, O stranger, to the seats of this land, renowned for the steed; to seats the fairest on earth, the chalky Colonos; where the vocal nightingale, chief abounding, trills her plaintive note in the green dells, tenanting the dark-hued ivy and the leafy grove of the god, untrodden, teeming with fruits, impervious to the sun, and unshaken by the winds of every storm; where Bacchus, the reveller, ever roams attending his divine nurses.“Antistrophe.—And ever day by day the narcissus, with its beauteous clusters, bursts into bloom by heaven’s dew, the ancient coronet of the mighty goddesses, and the saffron with golden ray; nor do the sleepless founts of Cephisus that wander through the fields fail, but ever each day it rushes o’er the plains with its limpid wave, fertilizing the bosom of the earth; nor have the choirs of the muses loathed this clime; nor Venus, too, of the golden reign.“Strophe.—And there is a tree, such as I hear not to have ever sprung in the land of Asia, nor in the mighty Doric island of Pelops, a tree unplanted by hand, of spontaneous growth, terror of the hostile spear, which flourishes chiefly in this region, the leaf of the pale gray olive that nourishes our young. This shall neither any one in youth nor in old age, marking for destruction, and having laid it waste with his hand, bring to nought; for the eye that never closes of Morian Jove regards it, and the blue-eyed Minerva.“Antistrophe.—And I have other praise for this mother-city to tell, the noblest gift of the mighty divinity, the highest vaunt, that she is the great of chivalry, renowned for the steed and famous on the main; for thou, O sovereign Neptune, son of Saturn, hast raised her to this glory, having first, in these fields, founded the bit to tame the horse; and thewell-rowed boat, dashed forth by the hand, bounds marvellously through the brine, tracking on the hundred-footed daughters of Nereus.”The first strophe is begun by one choir in unison after a short but graceful introduction which is repeated at the end of the strophe in another form, and then the second choir begins the antistrophe, set to the same beautiful melody. At its close the music changes in character and grows vigorous and excited as the first choir sings the second strophe, with which shortly the second choir joins in splendid eight-part harmony. The latter takes up the strain again in the second antistrophe, singing the praise of “the mother-city,” and the number closes with the united invocation to Neptune,—an effect which has hardly been excelled in choral music. The fourth chorus, which is very dramatic in its effect, tells of the assault of Creon upon Œdipus, and the fifth, his protection by Theseus, who comes to the rescue. In this number the double choirs unite with magnificent effect in the appeal to the gods (“Dread Power, that fillest Heaven’s high Throne”) to defend Theseus in the conflict. The sixth number (“When the Health and Strength are gone”) is a pathetic description of the blind hero’s pitiful condition, and prepares the way for the powerful choruses in which his impending fate is foreshadowed by the thunderbolts of Jove which rend the heavens. The eighth and ninth choruses are full of the mournful spirit of the tragedy itself, and tell in notes as eloquent as Sophocles’ lines of the mysteriousdisappearance of the Theban hero, ingulfed in the opening earth, and the sorrowful lamentations of the daughters for the father whom they had served and loved so devotedly.As the Hart Pants.The music to the Forty-second Psalm, familiarly known by the caption which forms the title of this sketch, was first performed at the tenth subscription Gewandhaus concert in Leipsic in 1838, Clara Novello taking the soprano part. Though not constructed upon the large scale of the “Hymn of Praise,” or even of the “Walpurgis Night,” it is a work which is thoroughly artistic, and just as complete and symmetrical in its way. It contains seven numbers. After a slow and well-sustained introduction, the work begins with a chorus (“As the Hart pants after the Water Brooks, so panteth my soul for Thee, O God”) which is a veritable prayer in its tenderness and expression of passionate longing. After the chorus a delicate and refined soprano solo (“For my Soul thirsteth for God”) continues the sentiment, first given out in an oboe solo, and then uttered by the voice in a beautifully melodious adagio. The third number is a soprano recitative (“My Tears have been my Meat”) leading to a chorus in march time by the sopranos and altos (“For I had gone with the Multitude; I went with them to the House of God”). Then followsa full chorus beginning with male voices in unison (“Why, my Soul, art thou cast down?”), answered by the female voices (“Trust thou in God”). Again the soprano voice is heard in pathetic recitative (“O my God! my Soul is cast down within me; all Thy Waves and thy Billows are gone over me”). A beautiful quartet of male voices with string accompaniment replies: “The Lord will command His Loving-kindness in the Day-time; and in the Night His Song shall be with me, and my Prayer unto the God of my Life.” The response is full of hope and consolation; but through it all runs the mournful strain of the soprano (forming a quintet at the end), coming to a close only when the full chorus joins in a repetition of the fourth number (“Trust thou in God”), this time elaborated with still greater effect, and closing with a stately ascription of praise to the God of Israel.The Gutenberg Fest-Cantata.The occasion for which the short festival cantata known as the “Gutenberg” was written, was the fourth centennial celebration of the art of printing, which was observed at Leipsic in 1840 by the unveiling of Gutenberg’s statue in the public square, and other ceremonies. The direction of the musical part of the festivity was intrusted to Mendelssohn. The text for the hymn to be sung at the unveiling, which occurred on the morning ofJune 24, immediately after the public service in Church, was furnished by Adolphus Prölsz, a teacher in the Gymnasium at Freiberg. Lampadius, in his Life of Mendelssohn, says of the performance:—“Mendelssohn arranged it with trombone accompaniment. When the opening words, ‘Fatherland! within thy Confines broke the dawning Light,’—so the opening ran, if my memory is correct,—were heard in the Music Hall at the first rehearsal, the heartiest applause arose among the performers as well as the invited guests. Nothing so simple, powerful, joyous, and unconstrained had been heard for a long time.... Many will remember how, on the very day of the public performance, the slight form of Mendelssohn was seen moving nervously around to find just the right place for the trombonists, and how nearly he came to a fall from the platform. During that performance the singers were divided into two choirs, which sat at some distance from each other; one of them was conducted by David, and the other by Mendelssohn.”The cantata opens with a stately chorale (“With solemn Hymn of Praise”) set to the old tune “Honor to God alone,” followed by the song in memory of Gutenberg (“Fatherland! within thy Confines”), which has been separately arranged and printed as a solo. The third number is a quick, spirited movement for tenors (“And God said, ‘Let there be Light’”) followed by another effective chorale (“Now, thank God all”), which brings the work to a close. On the afternoon of the sameday Mendelssohn’s much more important work, “The Hymn of Praise,” was given. A sketch of this has already appeared in the “Standard Oratorios.”Lauda Sion.The “Lauda Sion,” or sequence sung at High Mass on the Feast of Corpus Christi, was chosen by Mendelssohn as the subject of one of his most beautiful cantatas, for four solo voices, chorus, and orchestra. The majestic rhythm of Saint Thomas Aquinas’s verses loses none of its stateliness in this musical setting. The work was composed for the celebration of this Festival by the Church of St. Martin at Liège, and was first performed there June 11, 1846. Chorley, the English critic who accompanied Mendelssohn on that occasion, has left us in his “Modern German Music” an interesting sketch of its first production. He says:—“The early summer of 1846 was a great year for the Rhine Land and its adjacent district; since there the Lower Rhenish Festival at Aix-la-Chapelle was conducted by Mendelssohn, and starred by Mlle. Jenny Lind; and within a fortnight afterwards was celebrated at Liège the ‘Fête Dieu,’ for which his ‘Lauda Sion’ was written....“It was a pity that those who had commissioned such a composer to write such a work had so entirely miscalculated their means of presenting it even respectably. The picturesque old Church of St. Martin is one of those buildings which swallow up all sound,owing to the curve of the vaults and the bulk of the piers; the orchestra was little more powerful, when heard from below, than the distant scraping of a Christmas serenade far down the street; the chorus was toneless, and out of tune; and only one solo singer, the soprano, was even tolerable. On arriving at Liège with the purpose of conducting his work, Mendelssohn gave up the matter in despair. ‘No! it is not good, it cannot go well, it will make a bad noise,’ was his greeting to us....“We drove with him that afternoon up to St. Martin’s Church, to hear, as he merrily styled it, ‘the execution of his music.’ The sight of the steep, narrow, winding street, decked out with fir-trees and banners and the escutcheons of the different towns of Belgium, pleased him, for he was as keen a lover of a show as a child, and had a true artist’s quick sense of the picturesque....“Not envy’s self could have helped being in pain for its composer, so slack and tuneless and ineffective was the execution of this clear and beautiful work, by a scrannel orchestra, and singers who could hardly be heard, and who evidenced their nationality by resolutely holding back every movement. But in the last verse,alla breve—‘Ecce panis angelorum’—there came a surprise of a different quality. It was scenically accompanied by an unforeseen exposition of the Host, in a gorgeous gilt tabernacle, that slowly turned above the altar, so as to reveal the consecrated elements to the congregation. Incense was swung from censers, and the evening sun, breaking in with a sudden brightness, gave a fairy-like effect to the curling fumes as they rose; while a very musical bell, thattimed the movement twice in a bar, added its charm to the rite. I felt a quick grasp on my wrist, as Mendelssohn whispered to me, eagerly, ‘Listen! how pretty that is! it makes amends for all their bad playing and singing,—and I shall hear the rest better some other time.’ That other time I believe never came for the composer of the ‘Lauda Sion,’—since this was only the year before his death.”The work is composed in seven numbers. After a short introduction the voices give out the theme, “Lauda Sion,” followed by a chorus, “Laudis Thema,” full of devotional spirit. The soprano then enunciates in the “Sit Laus plena” phrases repeated by the chorus, followed by a beautifully accompanied quartet, “In hac Mensa.” The fifth number is a solemn chorale in unison, leading to a soprano solo in the arioso style, “Caro cibus,” which is exquisitely beautiful. The work concludes with a very dramatic solo and chorus, “Sumit unus,” set to the words “Bone pastor,” and the closing verses of the hymn itself. Short as the cantata is, it is one of the most felicitous of all Mendelssohn’s settings of the ritual.MOZART.Johann Chrysostomus Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, one of the most remarkable of musical geniuses, and the only one of his contemporaries whose operas still hold the stage with unimpaired freshness, was born at Salsburg, Jan. 27, 1756. He was the son of Leopold Mozart, the Salzburgian Vice-Capellmeister, who gave him and his sister Nannerl their earliest instruction in music, and with such good results that the children travelled and gave concerts with great success. Before he was seven years of age he had composed several pieces for piano and violin, his earliest having been written at the age of five. At twelve he became court capellmeister in Salzburg. After his musical travels he went to Vienna, and there began his period of classic activity, which commenced with “Idomeneus,” reached its culmination in “Don Giovanni,” and closed with the “Requiem,”—the “swan-song” of his wonderful career. In his brief life Mozart composed more than fifty great works, besides hundreds of minor ones in every possibleform of musical writing. His greatest compositions may be classed in the following order: “Idomeneus” (1780); “Entführung aus dem Serail” (1781); “Figaro’s Hochzeit” (“The Marriage of Figaro”), (1785); “Don Giovanni” (1787); “Cosi fan Tutti,” “Zauberflöte” (“The Magic Flute”), and “Titus” (1790); and the “Requiem” (1791, the year of his death). The catalogue of Mozart’s works is an immense one, for his period of productivity was unusually long. From the age of five to his death there was not a year that was not crowded with his music. Besides his numerous operas, of which only the more famous are given above, he wrote a large number of symphonies (of which the “Jupiter” is now the best known), sonatas, concertos, for all kinds of instruments, even to musical-glasses, trios, quartets, quintets, and sextets for all possible combinations of instruments, marches, fugues, masses, hymns, arias of extraordinary brilliancy, liturgies, cantatas, songs and ballads, and indeed every form of music that is now known. His style was studied by Beethoven, and so closely imitated that the music of his first period, if published without autograph, would readily be attributed to Mozart. His style was so spontaneous and characteristic that it has been well said there is but one Mozart. The distinguishing trait of his music is its rich melodic beauty and its almost ravishing sweetness. His melody pours along in a bright unbroken stream that sometimes even overflows its banks, so abundant is it. It is peculiarlythe music of youth and spring-time, exquisite in form, graceful in technique, and delightful in expression. It was the source where all his immediate successors went for their inspiration, though it lacked the maturity, majesty, and emotional depths which were reached by such a Titan as Beethoven. Old as it is, and antiquated in form, especially as compared with the work of the new schools, its perennial freshness, grace, and beauty have made it immortal.King Thamos.The historical drama, “Thamos, King of Egypt,” was written by Freiherr von Gebler. Otto Jahn, in his Life of Mozart, gives the following sketch of its story:—“Menes, King of Egypt, has been deposed by a usurper, Rameses, and, as it is thought, assassinated; but he is living, under the name of Sethos, as high priest of the Temple of the Sun, the secret being known only to the priest Hammon and the general Phanes. After the death of Rameses, his son Thamos is heir to the throne. The day arrives when Thamos attains majority, is to be invested with the diadem, and to select a bride. The friends of Menes seek in vain to persuade him to dispute the throne. He will not oppose the noble youth, whom he loves and esteems. But Pheron, a prince and confidant of Thamos, has, in conjunction with Mirza, the chief of the Virgins of the Sun, organized a conspiracy against Thamos, and wonover a portion of the army. Tharsis, daughter of Menes, who is believed by all, even her father, to be dead, has been brought up by Mirza under the name of Sais. It is arranged that she shall be proclaimed rightful heir to the throne, and, as she will then have the right to choose her consort, Mirza will secure her beforehand for Pheron. When she discovers that Sais loves Thamos, and he her, she induces Sais to believe that Thamos prefers her playmate Myris, and Sais is generous enough to sacrifice her love and her hopes of the throne to her friend. Equally nobly Thamos rejects all suspicions against Pheron, and awards him supreme command. As the time for action draws near, Pheron discloses to Sethos, whom he takes for a devoted follower of Menes, and consequently for an enemy to Thamos, the secret of Sais’ existence and his own plans. Sethos prepares secretly to save Thamos. Sais also, after being pledged to silence by an oath, is initiated into the secret by Mirza and Pheron, and directed to choose Pheron. She declines to give a decided answer, and Pheron announces to Mirza his determination to seize the throne by force in case of extremity. Sais, who believes herself not loved by Thamos, and will not therefore choose him as consort, but will not deprive him of the throne, takes the solemn and irrevocable oath as Virgin of the Sun. Thamos enters, and they discover, to their sorrow, their mutual love. Sethos, entering, enlightens Thamos as to the treachery of Pheron, without disclosing the parentage of Sais. Pheron, disturbed by the report that Menes is still living, comes to take council of Sethos, and adheres to his treacherous design. In solemn assembly Thamos is about to be declared king, when Mirza reveals the fact that Sais is the lost Tharsis, andheiress to the throne. Thamos is the first to offer her his homage. When she is constrained to choose between Thamos and Pheron she declares herself bound by her oath, and announces Thamos as the possessor of the throne. Then Pheron calls his followers to arms, but Sethos steps forward and discloses himself as Menes; whereupon all fall at his feet in joyful emotion. Pheron is disarmed and led off; Mirza stabs herself; Menes, as father and ruler, releases Sais from her oath, unites her with Thamos, and places the pair on the throne. A message arrives that Pheron has been struck with lightning by Divine judgment, and the piece ends.”To this drama Mozart composed the incidental music in 1779 and 1780 at Salzburg, where it was produced under Böhm and Shickaneder’s direction. The play did not keep the stage long. Mozart refers to this circumstance in a letter to his father, written Feb. 15, 1783:—“I regret much not being able to make use of the music for ‘Thamos,’ for not having pleased here, it is included among the tabooed pieces, no longer to be performed. For the sake of the music alone it might possibly be given again, but it is not likely. It is really a pity.”The music consists of five entr’actes and three choruses constructed in a large and majestic style and specially adapted to ceremonial performance. The first is a responsive chorus of maidens and priests (“Before thy Light, Sun-god, thy Foe the Darkness takes Wing”) sung in the temple of thesun at Heliopolis. The second (“Godhead, throned in Power eternal”) is also sung in the temple before Thamos’ coronation, at the beginning of the fifth act, and contains short snatches of solos for a priest and maiden, leading to a close in full harmony for the voices, and an instrumental finale of soft music during which the priest offers sacrifice upon the altar. The third opens with a majestic bass solo for the high priest (“Ye Children of Dust, come, with Trembling, adore ye”) and closes with a stately strain for all the voices (“We Children of Dust in our Reverence tremble”).Although the play was shelved, the music was not lost. Mozart subsequently set the choruses to Latin and German words, and they were adapted as hymns and motets for church use. They are now familiar to musicians as “Splendente te Deus,” “Deus tibi Laus et Honor,” and “Ne Pulvis et Cinis.” Nohl says of them:—“A certain solemnity pervades them such as few of his sacred works possess, and an elevation of feeling only surpassed in the ‘Flauto Magico.’ But the composer has relied on theatrical effect; and thus, in spite of his graver intentions, we find more worldly pomp than religious depth in these choruses, which Mozart worked out with all love and care, even in their most minute details, and which manifest the thoughtful mood that absorbed his soul.”Davidde Penitente.The cantata “Davidde Penitente” was the outcome of a work of love. Before his marriage with Constance Weber, Mozart vowed that when he brought her to Salzburg as his wife he would write a mass for the occasion and have it performed there. In a letter written to his father, Jan. 4, 1783, he says: “As a proof of the fulfilment of this vow, the score of a ‘half-mass’ is now lying by, in hopes of some day being finished.” Holmes, in his admirable Life of Mozart, says:—“To exercise his pen in the grand contrapuntal style of church music was at all times agreeable to him; and he was now free from the local restrictions under which he had written his numerous masses at Salzburg, where neither the style, the length of the pieces, nor their instrumentation was left to his own discretion; hence, making due allowance for the effect of some few years in developing the composer’s genius, the great superiority of ‘Davidde Penitente,’ by which title this mass was in the sequel better known over all the earlier masses, as well for breadth of style as in true ecclesiastical solemnity.”The “half-mass” which Mozart brought to Salzburg in fulfilment of his vow comprised only the Kyrie, Gloria, Sanctus, and Benedictus. The remaining numbers were supplied from another mass, and in this form the work was produced at St. Peter’s Church, Aug. 25, 1783, his wife taking thesolo part. The original work is described as exceedingly majestic and beautiful, particularly the “Gratias” for five, and the “Qui Tollis” for eight-voiced chorus. Jahn says of them that the same wonderful and mysterious impression of the supernatural conveyed by the most beautiful numbers in his Requiem characterizes these choruses.The “half-mass” was destined to undergo still more radical changes. In the spring of 1785 the committee of the society for the relief of the widows and orphans of musicians at Vienna wished to celebrate their annual festival with some new work, and commissioned Mozart to write a cantata. As the time was very short, he took the Kyrie and Gloria of the mass, set Italian words to them, and added four new numbers, in which form it was produced under the title of “Davidde Penitente” at the Burg-theatre, March 13, the solo singers being Fraulein Cavalieri,[32]Fraulein Distler, and Herr Adamberger.[33]The cantata comprises ten numbers. The first number is a chorus (“Alzai le flebile voci”) taken from the “Kyrie” of the mass; the second, an allegro chorus (“Cantiam le lodi”), from the “Gloria;” the third, a soprano solo (“Lungi lecure”), from the “Laudamus;” the fourth, an adagio chorus (“Sii pur sempre”) from the “Gratias;” the fifth, a very melodious soprano duet (“Sorgi o Signore”), from the “Domine Deus;” the sixth, a beautiful tenor aria (“A te fra tanti affanni”), written for Adamberger; the seventh, a double chorus (“Se vuoi, puniscimi”); the eighth, a bravura aria for soprano (“Fra le oscure Ombre”), written for Mademoiselle Cavalieri; the ninth, a terzetto (“Tutti le mie speranze”); and the tenth, a final chorus and fugue which, by general consent of the critics of the time, was called the “queen of vocal fugues.” Notwithstanding the introduction of specially-written arias, and the brilliant music assigned to the soprano, the cantata is regarded as one of the purest examples of Mozart’s church style.[32]Catharina Cavalieri, born in 1761, died June 30, 1801. She was a singer in Italian and German opera in Vienna from 1775 to 1783; but as she never left that city her reputation was purely local. Mozart wrote for her the part of Constanza in his opera “Die Entführing.”[33]Valentin Adamberger was born at Munich, July 6, 1743, and was famed for his splendid tenor voice. Mozart composed for him the part of Belmont in the “Entführing,” and highly esteemed him as a friend and adviser. He died Aug. 24, 1804.The Masonic Cantatas.Mozart became a member of the Masonic fraternity shortly after his arrival in Vienna in 1784, and devoted himself to its objects with all the ardor of his nature. In the following year his father visited him and was also persuaded to join, though not without considerable entreaty on the son’s part. He was a devoted member of the Church and entertained a deep reverence for its forms. The Church then, as now, was hostile to all secret orders, and was particularly inimical to theMasons because they had attacked certain alleged abuses in the cloisters. His prejudices were overcome, however, and he soon became as ardent a devotee of Masonry as his son. It formed one of the principal subjects of their correspondence; but unfortunately all these letters were destroyed by the cautious father a short time before his death, which occurred May 28, 1787. In only one letter do we find reference to the subject, and that in a guarded manner. On the 3d of April of that year Mozart heard of his father’s illness, and the next day he writes to him:—“I have this moment heard tidings which distress me exceedingly, and the more so that your last letter led me to suppose you were so well; but I now hear that you are really ill. I need not say how anxiously I shall long for a better report of you to comfort me, and I do hope to receive it, though I am always prone to anticipate the worst. As death (when closely considered) is the true goal of our life, I have made myself so thoroughly acquainted with this good and faithful friend of man, that not only has its image no longer anything alarming to me, but rather something most peaceful and consolatory; and I thank my Heavenly Father that He has vouchsafed to grant me the happiness,and has given me the opportunity (you understand me), to learn that it is the key to our true felicity.”Mozart’s membership in the order began at an opportune time for him. Though at the height of his fame he was at the very lowest depth of hisfinances; and both in 1787 and 1789, though he was Imperial Chamber Musician and his opera “Don Giovanni” was having a successful run, he was obliged to apply repeatedly to his friend and brother Mason, the merchant Puchberg of Vienna, for loans, and also to Herr Hofdämmel, who was about to become a Mason upon Mozart’s solicitation. During the short remainder of his life he was devotedly attached to the order, and he was buried in the dress of the brotherhood; but, strange to say, not one of the members accompanied their illustrious associate to the grave.Four of Mozart’s works were directly inspired by Masonry. In 1785 he wrote a simple but beautiful lodge song for voice, with piano accompaniment (“Die ihr einern neuen Grade”). This was followed by the wonderfully beautiful “Freemason’s Funeral Music” for orchestra, written upon the occasion of the death of two brothers in the fraternity, of which Jahn says:—“Mozart has written nothing more beautiful, from its technical treatment and finished effect of sound, its earnest feeling and psychological truth, than this short adagio. It is the utterance of a resolute, manly character, which, in the face of death, pays the rightful tribute to sorrow without being either crushed or stunned by it.”In the same year he composed a small cantata, “Die Maurerfreude,” for tenor and chorus, in honor of Herr Born, the master of the lodge to which hebelonged in Vienna, which is full of true feeling combined with graceful melody.The second cantata, catalogued in Köchel “Eine Kleine Freimaurer Cantate, ‘Laut verkünde unsre Freude,’” better known by its title “Lob der Freundschaft” (“Praise of Friendship”) is notable as the last work written by Mozart. Its date is Nov. 15, 1791, only three weeks before his death. At this time he was engaged in finishing up his “Requiem,” which had such a depressing effect upon him that he was ordered by his physician to lay it aside. The rest he thus secured had such a good effect that by the middle of November he was able to attend a Masonic meeting and produce the little cantata which he had just written for them. On reaching home after the performance he said to his wife, “O Stänerl, how madly they have gone on about my cantata! If I did not know that I had written better things, I should have thought this my best composition.” It is constructed upon a larger scale than the cantata of 1785, and is very pleasing and popular, but lacks the spirit and earnestness of the former. It has six numbers: 1. Chorus, “Laut verkünde unsre Freude;” 2. Recitative, “Zum ersten Male;” 3. Tenor aria, “Dieser Gottheit Allmacht;” 4. Recitative, “Wohlan, ihr Brüder;” 5. Duet, “Lange sallen diese Mauern”; 6. Chorus, “Lasst uns mit geschlungen Händen.” It was Mozart’s swan-song. Two days after its performance he was stricken down with his last illness.PAINE.John K. Paine, one of the very few really eminent American composers, was born at Portland, Me., Jan. 9, 1839. He studied the piano, organ, and composition with Kotzschmar in that city, and made his first public appearance as an organist, June 25, 1857. During the following year he went to Germany, and studied the organ, composition, and instrumentation with Haupt and other masters in Berlin. He returned to this country in 1861, and gave several concerts, in which he played many of the organ works of the best writers for the first time in the United States. Shortly after his return he was appointed instructor of music in Harvard University, and in 1876 was honored with the elevation to a professorship and given a regular chair. He is best known as a composer, and several of his works have been paid the rare compliment of performance in Germany, among them his Mass in D and all his symphonies. The former was given at the Berlin Singakademie in 1867, under his own direction. Among his principal compositions are the oratorio “St. Peter,” the music to “Œdipus,” the cantatas,“Nativity,” “The Realm of Fancy,” and “Phœbus, Arise;” the Mass in D; the Centennial Hymn, set to Whittier’s poem, and sung at the opening of the Philadelphia Centennial Exhibition; the overture to “As You Like It;” “The Tempest,” in the style of a symphonic poem; the symphony in C minor, and “Spring” symphony; besides numerous sonatas, fantasias, preludes, songs, and arrangements for organ and piano. His larger orchestral works have been made familiar to American audiences by Mr. Theodore Thomas’s band, and have invariably met with success. His style of composition is large, broad, and dignified, based upon the best classic models, and evinces a high degree of musical scholarship.Œdipus Tyrannus.The first public performance of the “Œdipus Tyrannus” of Sophocles in this country was given at the Sanders Theatre (Harvard College), Cambridge, Mass., May 17, 1881, for which occasion Mr. Paine composed the music incidental to the world-famous tragedy. The performance was a memorable one in many ways. The tragedy was given in the original language. It was the first event of the kind in America. The audience was a representative one in culture, education, and social brilliancy. The programme was also unique, being printed in Greek, and translated into English was as follows:—TO ALL THE SPECTATORS GREETING.[The college seal.]Six verses from the Eumenides of Æschylus:“Hail people of the cityThat sit near to Zeus,Friends of the friendly goddess,Wise in your generation,Ye whom under the wings of PallasThe father guards.”THE ŒDIPUS TYRANNUS OF SOPHOCLESWILL BE REPRESENTED IN THE THEATRE OF HARVARD UNIVERSITYon the 17th of May (Θαργηλιών), 1881, and again on the 19th, 20th, and 21st.DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.Œdipus, King of ThebesGeorge Riddle.Priest of ZeusWilliam Hobbs Manning.Creon, Jocasta’s brotherHenry Norman.Teiresias, the blind seerCurtis Guild.Jocasta, Queen of ThebesLeonard Eckstein Opdycke.Messenger, from CorinthArthur Wellington Roberts.Servant of LaiusGardiner Martin Lane.Messenger from the PalaceOwen Wister.ATTENDANTS.Attendants on ŒdipusJ. R. Coolidge, E. J. Wendell.Attendants on JocastaJ. J. Greenough, W. L. Putnam.Attendants on CreonG. P. Keith, J. Lee.Boy guide of TeiresiasC. H. Goodwin.AntigoneE. Manning.IsmeneJ. K. Whittemore.Suppliants.—G. P. Keith, G. D. Markham(priests),W. H. Herrick, J. Lee, E. Lovering, H. Putnam, L. A. Shaw, C. M. Walsh(chosen youths),C. H. Goodwin, E. Manning, R. Manning, W. Merrill, E. R. Thayer, J. K. Whittemore(boys).CHORUS OF THEBAN OLD MEN.CoryphæusLouis Butler McCagg.Assistant to the chorus in the third stasmon, with soloGeorge Laurie Osgood.MEMBERS OF THE CHORUS.N. M. Brigham,Frederick R. Burton,Henry G. Chapin,Sumner Coolidge,Edward P. Mason,Marshall H. Cushing,Wendell P. Davis,Morris Earle,Percival J. Eaton,Gustavus Tuckerman,Charles S. Hamlin,Jared S. How,Howard Lilienthal,Charles F. Mason.Leader of the chorus and composer of the musicJohn Knowles Paine.PrompterGeorge L. Kittredge.The scene is laid in front of the palace in Boetian Thebes. The chorus is composed of Theban old men. Œdipus speaks first. The managers request all the spectators to remain sitting until the postlude is ended. Immediately after the last chorus has been sung there will be a pause for those who wish to go out. After this the doors will be closed.After the play, horse-cars (ἅμαξαι ἱπποσιδηροδρομικαὶ) will be ready for those who want to go to the city.Wilsons, printers. (Οὐιλσῶνεσ τύποις ἔγαψαν.)The story of the Theban hero, his ignorance of his own parentage, his dismay at the revelation of the oracle that he would kill his father and marry his mother, his quarrel with the former, resulting in the very tragedy he was seeking to avoid, his solution of the riddle of the sphinx, the reward of the Queen’s hand which Creon had promised, leading to the unfortunate marriage with his mother, Jocasta, thus completing the revelation of the oracle, does not need description in detail. The marriage was followedby a pestilence that wasted Thebes, and at this point the plot of the drama begins. It concerns itself with the efforts of Œdipus to unravel the mystery of the death of his father, Laius, which lead to the discovery that he himself was the murderer, and that he had been guilty of incest with his own mother. Jocasta hangs herself, and Œdipus, rushing frantically into the palace, beholds her, and overwhelmed with horror at the sight and the fulfilment of the oracle, seizes her brooch-pin and blinds himself. In the Œdipus at Colonos the sequel is told. The hero dies in the gardens of the Eumenides, happy in the love of his daughters and the pardon which fate grants him.The music to the tragedy is thoroughly classical in spirit, and has all the nobility, breadth, dignity, and grace characteristic of the Greek idea. The principal lyric movements of the chorus, the choral odes, of which there are six, comprise the scheme of the composer. The melodramatic practice of the orchestra accompanying spoken dialogue only appears to a limited extent in the third ode; and the chorus, as narrator, is accompanied by music only in the seven last lines of the play, which form the postlude. The orchestral introduction, which is treated in a very skilful and scholarly manner, epitomizes the spirit of the work. The odes are divided as usual into strophes and antistrophes, assigned alternately to a male chorus of fifteen and full chorus. The first (“Oracle sweet-tongued of Zeus”), which has the genuine antique dignity andelevation, is a description of the sufferings of the people from the pestilence which has wasted Thebes since the unnatural marriage of Œdipus and Jocasta, and a fervent prayer to the gods for aid. The second (“Thou Delphic Rock, who can he be?”) concludes the scene where the blind prophet Teiresias arrives upon the summons of Creon and accuses Œdipus of the crime, accompanying the accusation with dark hints of further guilt. In this ode, which is specially noticeable for its rich and graceful treatment, the chorus expresses its disbelief of the charges. In the third scene, Creon enters to protest against the accusations of Œdipus, but a quarrel ensues between them, which results in the menace of death to the former. Jocasta appears, and upon her intercession Creon is allowed to depart. In the ode, the chorus joins in this appeal to Œdipus,—a strong, vigorous number, the effect of which is heightened by the intervening spoken parts of Creon, Œdipus, and Jocasta, with musical accompaniment. The fourth ode (“O may my Life be spent in Virtue”) is a vigorous denunciation of the impiety of Jocasta in speaking scornfully of the oracles. The fifth ode (“If I the Prophet’s Gift possess”) is full of idyllic grace and sweetness, realizing in a remarkable degree the old Grecian idea of sensuous beauty. It is a speculation upon the divine origin of Œdipus, after the messenger relates the story of the King’s exposure in his childhood upon Mount Cithæron, and contains a charming tenor solo. The last ode (“O Race of mortalMen”) bewails the vicissitudes of fortune, and is full of the tragic significance of impending fate. The work comes to a close with the postlude:—“Ye who dwell in Thebes our city, fix on Œdipus your eyes,Who resolved the dark enigma, noblest liver and most wise.Glorious like a sun he mounted, envied of the popular throng,Now he sinks in seas of anguish, quenched the stormy waves among.Therefore I await the final hour, to ancient wisdom known,Ere I call one mortal happy. Never shall that thought be shown,Till he end his earthly being, scathless of a sigh or groan.”Six public performances of the “Œdipus” were given in 1881, and every season since that time selections from the music have been performed in New York, Boston, and other cities. As the most important and scholarly work an American composer has yet produced, it cannot be heard too often.The Nativity.The text of “The Nativity,” for chorus, solo voices, and orchestra, is taken from the hymn in Milton’s ode “On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity,” and is composed in three parts. The first part includes the first, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh; the second, a combination of the eighth and ninth; and the third, the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth verses. After a short instrumental introduction, which works up to an effective climax, the cantata begins with a chorus (“It was the Winter wild”), introduced by the soprano, developing to full harmonyat the words, “Nature in Awe to Him,” and closing pianissimo. After a short soprano solo (“But, He her Fears to cease”) the chorus resumes (“With Turtle Wing the amorous Clouds dividing”). A succession of choral passages follows, admirably suggestive of the sentiment of the poem,—a vigorous, stirring allegro, “No War or Battle’s Sound was heard the World around;” “And Kings sat still with awful Eye,” broadly and forcibly written; and a tender, graceful number, “But peaceful was the Night.” They are followed by another soprano solo (“And though the shady Gloom”), full of brightness and animation, which leads directly to a majestic chorus (“He saw a greater Sun appear”), which closes the first part.The second part, a quartet and chorus, is pastoral in character, and reflects the idyllic quiet and beauty of the text. The quartet, “The Shepherds on the Lawn,” is introduced by short tenor, bass, and alto solos, and also contains a very melodious and graceful solo for soprano (“When such Music sweet their Hearts and Ears did greet”), after which the full quartet leads up to a vigorous chorus (“The Air such Pleasure loath to lose”), closing the part.The third part is choral, and forms an effective climax to the work. It opens with the powerful chorus, “Ring out, ye crystal Spheres,” emphasized by the organ bass with stately effect, and moves on majestically to the close,—“And Heaven as at some festivalWill open wide the gates of her high palace hall.”The Realm of Fancy.“The Realm of Fancy” is a short cantata, the music set to Keats’s familiar poem:—“Ever let the fancy roam,Pleasure never is at home:At a touch sweet pleasure melteth,Like to bubbles when rain pelteth.”With the exception of a dozen lines, the dainty poem is used entire, and is set to music with a keen appreciation of its graceful beauty. A short allegretto fancifully trips along to the opening chorus (“Ever let the Fancy roam”), which is admirable for its shifting play of musical color. A soprano solo (“She will bring in spite of Frost”), followed by a very expressive barytone solo (“Thou shalt at a Glance behold the Daisy and the Marigold”), leads up to a charming little chorus (“Shaded Hyacinth, always Sapphire Queen”). A short instrumental passage, in the time of the opening allegretto, introduces the final chorus (“O Sweet Fancy, let her loose”), charmingly worked up, and closing in canon form. The cantata is very short; but rarely have poem and music been more happily wedded than in this delightful tribute to fancy.Phœbus, Arise.Mr. Paine’s ripe scholarship is shown to admirable advantage in his selection of the poem “Phœbus, Arise” from among the lyrics of the old Scottish poet, William Drummond, of Hawthornden, and the characteristic old-style setting he has given to it. Like “The Realm of Fancy,” it is very short; but like that cantata, also, it illustrates the versatility of his talent and the happy manner in which he preserves the characteristics of the poem in his music. Drummond, who has been called “the Scottish Petrarch,” and whose poems were so celebrated that even Ben Jonson could find it in his way to visit him, was noted for the grace and lightness of his verse, and the pensive cast with which it was tinged. It has little of the modern poetic style, and the composer has clothed his poem in a musical garb to correspond.The cantata is written for tenor solo, male chorus, and orchestra, and opens with a brilliant chorus (“Phœbus, arise, and paint the sable Skies with azure, white, and red”), closing with a crescendo in the old style. An expressive and somewhat pensive tenor solo follows:—“This is that happy mornAnd day, long-wishèd day,Of all my life so dark(If cruel stars have not my ruin swornAnd fates my hope betray),Which purely white deservesAn everlasting diamond should it mark.This is the morn should bring unto the groveMy love, to hear, and recompense my love.”A short choral passage with tenor solo (“Fair King, who all preserves”) leads to a full rich chorus (“Now, Flora, deck thyself in fairest Guise”). In the next number the chorus returns to the opening theme (“Phœbus, Arise”), and develops it with constantly increasing power to the close.

Œdipus at Colonos.The story of “Œdipus Tyrannus” is told in this work in connection with Professor Paine’s composition. The “Œdipus at Colonos,” to which Mendelssohn set music, is the continuation of Sophocles’ tragedy, describing the banishment of the blind hero, the loving care of his daughters, his arrival at Attica, and his death in the gardens of the Eumenides at Colonos, absolved by the fate which had so cruelly pursued him.The music to “Œdipus” was written at the command of the King of Prussia in 1843, and was first produced at Potsdam, Nov. 1, 1845. It contains a short introduction and nine choral numbers. The first and second choruses describe the entrance of Œdipus and Antigone into the grove of the Eumenides, their discovery by the people, the story of his sorrows which he relates to them, his meeting with his daughter Ismene, and the arrival of Theseus the King. The third number is the gem of the work, and is often given on the concert-stage. The free translation of the text for this beautiful double chorus is as follows:—“Strophe.—Thou hast come, O stranger, to the seats of this land, renowned for the steed; to seats the fairest on earth, the chalky Colonos; where the vocal nightingale, chief abounding, trills her plaintive note in the green dells, tenanting the dark-hued ivy and the leafy grove of the god, untrodden, teeming with fruits, impervious to the sun, and unshaken by the winds of every storm; where Bacchus, the reveller, ever roams attending his divine nurses.“Antistrophe.—And ever day by day the narcissus, with its beauteous clusters, bursts into bloom by heaven’s dew, the ancient coronet of the mighty goddesses, and the saffron with golden ray; nor do the sleepless founts of Cephisus that wander through the fields fail, but ever each day it rushes o’er the plains with its limpid wave, fertilizing the bosom of the earth; nor have the choirs of the muses loathed this clime; nor Venus, too, of the golden reign.“Strophe.—And there is a tree, such as I hear not to have ever sprung in the land of Asia, nor in the mighty Doric island of Pelops, a tree unplanted by hand, of spontaneous growth, terror of the hostile spear, which flourishes chiefly in this region, the leaf of the pale gray olive that nourishes our young. This shall neither any one in youth nor in old age, marking for destruction, and having laid it waste with his hand, bring to nought; for the eye that never closes of Morian Jove regards it, and the blue-eyed Minerva.“Antistrophe.—And I have other praise for this mother-city to tell, the noblest gift of the mighty divinity, the highest vaunt, that she is the great of chivalry, renowned for the steed and famous on the main; for thou, O sovereign Neptune, son of Saturn, hast raised her to this glory, having first, in these fields, founded the bit to tame the horse; and thewell-rowed boat, dashed forth by the hand, bounds marvellously through the brine, tracking on the hundred-footed daughters of Nereus.”The first strophe is begun by one choir in unison after a short but graceful introduction which is repeated at the end of the strophe in another form, and then the second choir begins the antistrophe, set to the same beautiful melody. At its close the music changes in character and grows vigorous and excited as the first choir sings the second strophe, with which shortly the second choir joins in splendid eight-part harmony. The latter takes up the strain again in the second antistrophe, singing the praise of “the mother-city,” and the number closes with the united invocation to Neptune,—an effect which has hardly been excelled in choral music. The fourth chorus, which is very dramatic in its effect, tells of the assault of Creon upon Œdipus, and the fifth, his protection by Theseus, who comes to the rescue. In this number the double choirs unite with magnificent effect in the appeal to the gods (“Dread Power, that fillest Heaven’s high Throne”) to defend Theseus in the conflict. The sixth number (“When the Health and Strength are gone”) is a pathetic description of the blind hero’s pitiful condition, and prepares the way for the powerful choruses in which his impending fate is foreshadowed by the thunderbolts of Jove which rend the heavens. The eighth and ninth choruses are full of the mournful spirit of the tragedy itself, and tell in notes as eloquent as Sophocles’ lines of the mysteriousdisappearance of the Theban hero, ingulfed in the opening earth, and the sorrowful lamentations of the daughters for the father whom they had served and loved so devotedly.

The story of “Œdipus Tyrannus” is told in this work in connection with Professor Paine’s composition. The “Œdipus at Colonos,” to which Mendelssohn set music, is the continuation of Sophocles’ tragedy, describing the banishment of the blind hero, the loving care of his daughters, his arrival at Attica, and his death in the gardens of the Eumenides at Colonos, absolved by the fate which had so cruelly pursued him.

The music to “Œdipus” was written at the command of the King of Prussia in 1843, and was first produced at Potsdam, Nov. 1, 1845. It contains a short introduction and nine choral numbers. The first and second choruses describe the entrance of Œdipus and Antigone into the grove of the Eumenides, their discovery by the people, the story of his sorrows which he relates to them, his meeting with his daughter Ismene, and the arrival of Theseus the King. The third number is the gem of the work, and is often given on the concert-stage. The free translation of the text for this beautiful double chorus is as follows:—

“Strophe.—Thou hast come, O stranger, to the seats of this land, renowned for the steed; to seats the fairest on earth, the chalky Colonos; where the vocal nightingale, chief abounding, trills her plaintive note in the green dells, tenanting the dark-hued ivy and the leafy grove of the god, untrodden, teeming with fruits, impervious to the sun, and unshaken by the winds of every storm; where Bacchus, the reveller, ever roams attending his divine nurses.

“Antistrophe.—And ever day by day the narcissus, with its beauteous clusters, bursts into bloom by heaven’s dew, the ancient coronet of the mighty goddesses, and the saffron with golden ray; nor do the sleepless founts of Cephisus that wander through the fields fail, but ever each day it rushes o’er the plains with its limpid wave, fertilizing the bosom of the earth; nor have the choirs of the muses loathed this clime; nor Venus, too, of the golden reign.

“Strophe.—And there is a tree, such as I hear not to have ever sprung in the land of Asia, nor in the mighty Doric island of Pelops, a tree unplanted by hand, of spontaneous growth, terror of the hostile spear, which flourishes chiefly in this region, the leaf of the pale gray olive that nourishes our young. This shall neither any one in youth nor in old age, marking for destruction, and having laid it waste with his hand, bring to nought; for the eye that never closes of Morian Jove regards it, and the blue-eyed Minerva.

“Antistrophe.—And I have other praise for this mother-city to tell, the noblest gift of the mighty divinity, the highest vaunt, that she is the great of chivalry, renowned for the steed and famous on the main; for thou, O sovereign Neptune, son of Saturn, hast raised her to this glory, having first, in these fields, founded the bit to tame the horse; and thewell-rowed boat, dashed forth by the hand, bounds marvellously through the brine, tracking on the hundred-footed daughters of Nereus.”

The first strophe is begun by one choir in unison after a short but graceful introduction which is repeated at the end of the strophe in another form, and then the second choir begins the antistrophe, set to the same beautiful melody. At its close the music changes in character and grows vigorous and excited as the first choir sings the second strophe, with which shortly the second choir joins in splendid eight-part harmony. The latter takes up the strain again in the second antistrophe, singing the praise of “the mother-city,” and the number closes with the united invocation to Neptune,—an effect which has hardly been excelled in choral music. The fourth chorus, which is very dramatic in its effect, tells of the assault of Creon upon Œdipus, and the fifth, his protection by Theseus, who comes to the rescue. In this number the double choirs unite with magnificent effect in the appeal to the gods (“Dread Power, that fillest Heaven’s high Throne”) to defend Theseus in the conflict. The sixth number (“When the Health and Strength are gone”) is a pathetic description of the blind hero’s pitiful condition, and prepares the way for the powerful choruses in which his impending fate is foreshadowed by the thunderbolts of Jove which rend the heavens. The eighth and ninth choruses are full of the mournful spirit of the tragedy itself, and tell in notes as eloquent as Sophocles’ lines of the mysteriousdisappearance of the Theban hero, ingulfed in the opening earth, and the sorrowful lamentations of the daughters for the father whom they had served and loved so devotedly.

As the Hart Pants.The music to the Forty-second Psalm, familiarly known by the caption which forms the title of this sketch, was first performed at the tenth subscription Gewandhaus concert in Leipsic in 1838, Clara Novello taking the soprano part. Though not constructed upon the large scale of the “Hymn of Praise,” or even of the “Walpurgis Night,” it is a work which is thoroughly artistic, and just as complete and symmetrical in its way. It contains seven numbers. After a slow and well-sustained introduction, the work begins with a chorus (“As the Hart pants after the Water Brooks, so panteth my soul for Thee, O God”) which is a veritable prayer in its tenderness and expression of passionate longing. After the chorus a delicate and refined soprano solo (“For my Soul thirsteth for God”) continues the sentiment, first given out in an oboe solo, and then uttered by the voice in a beautifully melodious adagio. The third number is a soprano recitative (“My Tears have been my Meat”) leading to a chorus in march time by the sopranos and altos (“For I had gone with the Multitude; I went with them to the House of God”). Then followsa full chorus beginning with male voices in unison (“Why, my Soul, art thou cast down?”), answered by the female voices (“Trust thou in God”). Again the soprano voice is heard in pathetic recitative (“O my God! my Soul is cast down within me; all Thy Waves and thy Billows are gone over me”). A beautiful quartet of male voices with string accompaniment replies: “The Lord will command His Loving-kindness in the Day-time; and in the Night His Song shall be with me, and my Prayer unto the God of my Life.” The response is full of hope and consolation; but through it all runs the mournful strain of the soprano (forming a quintet at the end), coming to a close only when the full chorus joins in a repetition of the fourth number (“Trust thou in God”), this time elaborated with still greater effect, and closing with a stately ascription of praise to the God of Israel.

The music to the Forty-second Psalm, familiarly known by the caption which forms the title of this sketch, was first performed at the tenth subscription Gewandhaus concert in Leipsic in 1838, Clara Novello taking the soprano part. Though not constructed upon the large scale of the “Hymn of Praise,” or even of the “Walpurgis Night,” it is a work which is thoroughly artistic, and just as complete and symmetrical in its way. It contains seven numbers. After a slow and well-sustained introduction, the work begins with a chorus (“As the Hart pants after the Water Brooks, so panteth my soul for Thee, O God”) which is a veritable prayer in its tenderness and expression of passionate longing. After the chorus a delicate and refined soprano solo (“For my Soul thirsteth for God”) continues the sentiment, first given out in an oboe solo, and then uttered by the voice in a beautifully melodious adagio. The third number is a soprano recitative (“My Tears have been my Meat”) leading to a chorus in march time by the sopranos and altos (“For I had gone with the Multitude; I went with them to the House of God”). Then followsa full chorus beginning with male voices in unison (“Why, my Soul, art thou cast down?”), answered by the female voices (“Trust thou in God”). Again the soprano voice is heard in pathetic recitative (“O my God! my Soul is cast down within me; all Thy Waves and thy Billows are gone over me”). A beautiful quartet of male voices with string accompaniment replies: “The Lord will command His Loving-kindness in the Day-time; and in the Night His Song shall be with me, and my Prayer unto the God of my Life.” The response is full of hope and consolation; but through it all runs the mournful strain of the soprano (forming a quintet at the end), coming to a close only when the full chorus joins in a repetition of the fourth number (“Trust thou in God”), this time elaborated with still greater effect, and closing with a stately ascription of praise to the God of Israel.

The Gutenberg Fest-Cantata.The occasion for which the short festival cantata known as the “Gutenberg” was written, was the fourth centennial celebration of the art of printing, which was observed at Leipsic in 1840 by the unveiling of Gutenberg’s statue in the public square, and other ceremonies. The direction of the musical part of the festivity was intrusted to Mendelssohn. The text for the hymn to be sung at the unveiling, which occurred on the morning ofJune 24, immediately after the public service in Church, was furnished by Adolphus Prölsz, a teacher in the Gymnasium at Freiberg. Lampadius, in his Life of Mendelssohn, says of the performance:—“Mendelssohn arranged it with trombone accompaniment. When the opening words, ‘Fatherland! within thy Confines broke the dawning Light,’—so the opening ran, if my memory is correct,—were heard in the Music Hall at the first rehearsal, the heartiest applause arose among the performers as well as the invited guests. Nothing so simple, powerful, joyous, and unconstrained had been heard for a long time.... Many will remember how, on the very day of the public performance, the slight form of Mendelssohn was seen moving nervously around to find just the right place for the trombonists, and how nearly he came to a fall from the platform. During that performance the singers were divided into two choirs, which sat at some distance from each other; one of them was conducted by David, and the other by Mendelssohn.”The cantata opens with a stately chorale (“With solemn Hymn of Praise”) set to the old tune “Honor to God alone,” followed by the song in memory of Gutenberg (“Fatherland! within thy Confines”), which has been separately arranged and printed as a solo. The third number is a quick, spirited movement for tenors (“And God said, ‘Let there be Light’”) followed by another effective chorale (“Now, thank God all”), which brings the work to a close. On the afternoon of the sameday Mendelssohn’s much more important work, “The Hymn of Praise,” was given. A sketch of this has already appeared in the “Standard Oratorios.”

The occasion for which the short festival cantata known as the “Gutenberg” was written, was the fourth centennial celebration of the art of printing, which was observed at Leipsic in 1840 by the unveiling of Gutenberg’s statue in the public square, and other ceremonies. The direction of the musical part of the festivity was intrusted to Mendelssohn. The text for the hymn to be sung at the unveiling, which occurred on the morning ofJune 24, immediately after the public service in Church, was furnished by Adolphus Prölsz, a teacher in the Gymnasium at Freiberg. Lampadius, in his Life of Mendelssohn, says of the performance:—

“Mendelssohn arranged it with trombone accompaniment. When the opening words, ‘Fatherland! within thy Confines broke the dawning Light,’—so the opening ran, if my memory is correct,—were heard in the Music Hall at the first rehearsal, the heartiest applause arose among the performers as well as the invited guests. Nothing so simple, powerful, joyous, and unconstrained had been heard for a long time.... Many will remember how, on the very day of the public performance, the slight form of Mendelssohn was seen moving nervously around to find just the right place for the trombonists, and how nearly he came to a fall from the platform. During that performance the singers were divided into two choirs, which sat at some distance from each other; one of them was conducted by David, and the other by Mendelssohn.”

The cantata opens with a stately chorale (“With solemn Hymn of Praise”) set to the old tune “Honor to God alone,” followed by the song in memory of Gutenberg (“Fatherland! within thy Confines”), which has been separately arranged and printed as a solo. The third number is a quick, spirited movement for tenors (“And God said, ‘Let there be Light’”) followed by another effective chorale (“Now, thank God all”), which brings the work to a close. On the afternoon of the sameday Mendelssohn’s much more important work, “The Hymn of Praise,” was given. A sketch of this has already appeared in the “Standard Oratorios.”

Lauda Sion.The “Lauda Sion,” or sequence sung at High Mass on the Feast of Corpus Christi, was chosen by Mendelssohn as the subject of one of his most beautiful cantatas, for four solo voices, chorus, and orchestra. The majestic rhythm of Saint Thomas Aquinas’s verses loses none of its stateliness in this musical setting. The work was composed for the celebration of this Festival by the Church of St. Martin at Liège, and was first performed there June 11, 1846. Chorley, the English critic who accompanied Mendelssohn on that occasion, has left us in his “Modern German Music” an interesting sketch of its first production. He says:—“The early summer of 1846 was a great year for the Rhine Land and its adjacent district; since there the Lower Rhenish Festival at Aix-la-Chapelle was conducted by Mendelssohn, and starred by Mlle. Jenny Lind; and within a fortnight afterwards was celebrated at Liège the ‘Fête Dieu,’ for which his ‘Lauda Sion’ was written....“It was a pity that those who had commissioned such a composer to write such a work had so entirely miscalculated their means of presenting it even respectably. The picturesque old Church of St. Martin is one of those buildings which swallow up all sound,owing to the curve of the vaults and the bulk of the piers; the orchestra was little more powerful, when heard from below, than the distant scraping of a Christmas serenade far down the street; the chorus was toneless, and out of tune; and only one solo singer, the soprano, was even tolerable. On arriving at Liège with the purpose of conducting his work, Mendelssohn gave up the matter in despair. ‘No! it is not good, it cannot go well, it will make a bad noise,’ was his greeting to us....“We drove with him that afternoon up to St. Martin’s Church, to hear, as he merrily styled it, ‘the execution of his music.’ The sight of the steep, narrow, winding street, decked out with fir-trees and banners and the escutcheons of the different towns of Belgium, pleased him, for he was as keen a lover of a show as a child, and had a true artist’s quick sense of the picturesque....“Not envy’s self could have helped being in pain for its composer, so slack and tuneless and ineffective was the execution of this clear and beautiful work, by a scrannel orchestra, and singers who could hardly be heard, and who evidenced their nationality by resolutely holding back every movement. But in the last verse,alla breve—‘Ecce panis angelorum’—there came a surprise of a different quality. It was scenically accompanied by an unforeseen exposition of the Host, in a gorgeous gilt tabernacle, that slowly turned above the altar, so as to reveal the consecrated elements to the congregation. Incense was swung from censers, and the evening sun, breaking in with a sudden brightness, gave a fairy-like effect to the curling fumes as they rose; while a very musical bell, thattimed the movement twice in a bar, added its charm to the rite. I felt a quick grasp on my wrist, as Mendelssohn whispered to me, eagerly, ‘Listen! how pretty that is! it makes amends for all their bad playing and singing,—and I shall hear the rest better some other time.’ That other time I believe never came for the composer of the ‘Lauda Sion,’—since this was only the year before his death.”The work is composed in seven numbers. After a short introduction the voices give out the theme, “Lauda Sion,” followed by a chorus, “Laudis Thema,” full of devotional spirit. The soprano then enunciates in the “Sit Laus plena” phrases repeated by the chorus, followed by a beautifully accompanied quartet, “In hac Mensa.” The fifth number is a solemn chorale in unison, leading to a soprano solo in the arioso style, “Caro cibus,” which is exquisitely beautiful. The work concludes with a very dramatic solo and chorus, “Sumit unus,” set to the words “Bone pastor,” and the closing verses of the hymn itself. Short as the cantata is, it is one of the most felicitous of all Mendelssohn’s settings of the ritual.

The “Lauda Sion,” or sequence sung at High Mass on the Feast of Corpus Christi, was chosen by Mendelssohn as the subject of one of his most beautiful cantatas, for four solo voices, chorus, and orchestra. The majestic rhythm of Saint Thomas Aquinas’s verses loses none of its stateliness in this musical setting. The work was composed for the celebration of this Festival by the Church of St. Martin at Liège, and was first performed there June 11, 1846. Chorley, the English critic who accompanied Mendelssohn on that occasion, has left us in his “Modern German Music” an interesting sketch of its first production. He says:—

“The early summer of 1846 was a great year for the Rhine Land and its adjacent district; since there the Lower Rhenish Festival at Aix-la-Chapelle was conducted by Mendelssohn, and starred by Mlle. Jenny Lind; and within a fortnight afterwards was celebrated at Liège the ‘Fête Dieu,’ for which his ‘Lauda Sion’ was written....

“It was a pity that those who had commissioned such a composer to write such a work had so entirely miscalculated their means of presenting it even respectably. The picturesque old Church of St. Martin is one of those buildings which swallow up all sound,owing to the curve of the vaults and the bulk of the piers; the orchestra was little more powerful, when heard from below, than the distant scraping of a Christmas serenade far down the street; the chorus was toneless, and out of tune; and only one solo singer, the soprano, was even tolerable. On arriving at Liège with the purpose of conducting his work, Mendelssohn gave up the matter in despair. ‘No! it is not good, it cannot go well, it will make a bad noise,’ was his greeting to us....

“We drove with him that afternoon up to St. Martin’s Church, to hear, as he merrily styled it, ‘the execution of his music.’ The sight of the steep, narrow, winding street, decked out with fir-trees and banners and the escutcheons of the different towns of Belgium, pleased him, for he was as keen a lover of a show as a child, and had a true artist’s quick sense of the picturesque....

“Not envy’s self could have helped being in pain for its composer, so slack and tuneless and ineffective was the execution of this clear and beautiful work, by a scrannel orchestra, and singers who could hardly be heard, and who evidenced their nationality by resolutely holding back every movement. But in the last verse,alla breve—

‘Ecce panis angelorum’—

‘Ecce panis angelorum’—

‘Ecce panis angelorum’—

there came a surprise of a different quality. It was scenically accompanied by an unforeseen exposition of the Host, in a gorgeous gilt tabernacle, that slowly turned above the altar, so as to reveal the consecrated elements to the congregation. Incense was swung from censers, and the evening sun, breaking in with a sudden brightness, gave a fairy-like effect to the curling fumes as they rose; while a very musical bell, thattimed the movement twice in a bar, added its charm to the rite. I felt a quick grasp on my wrist, as Mendelssohn whispered to me, eagerly, ‘Listen! how pretty that is! it makes amends for all their bad playing and singing,—and I shall hear the rest better some other time.’ That other time I believe never came for the composer of the ‘Lauda Sion,’—since this was only the year before his death.”

The work is composed in seven numbers. After a short introduction the voices give out the theme, “Lauda Sion,” followed by a chorus, “Laudis Thema,” full of devotional spirit. The soprano then enunciates in the “Sit Laus plena” phrases repeated by the chorus, followed by a beautifully accompanied quartet, “In hac Mensa.” The fifth number is a solemn chorale in unison, leading to a soprano solo in the arioso style, “Caro cibus,” which is exquisitely beautiful. The work concludes with a very dramatic solo and chorus, “Sumit unus,” set to the words “Bone pastor,” and the closing verses of the hymn itself. Short as the cantata is, it is one of the most felicitous of all Mendelssohn’s settings of the ritual.

MOZART.Johann Chrysostomus Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, one of the most remarkable of musical geniuses, and the only one of his contemporaries whose operas still hold the stage with unimpaired freshness, was born at Salsburg, Jan. 27, 1756. He was the son of Leopold Mozart, the Salzburgian Vice-Capellmeister, who gave him and his sister Nannerl their earliest instruction in music, and with such good results that the children travelled and gave concerts with great success. Before he was seven years of age he had composed several pieces for piano and violin, his earliest having been written at the age of five. At twelve he became court capellmeister in Salzburg. After his musical travels he went to Vienna, and there began his period of classic activity, which commenced with “Idomeneus,” reached its culmination in “Don Giovanni,” and closed with the “Requiem,”—the “swan-song” of his wonderful career. In his brief life Mozart composed more than fifty great works, besides hundreds of minor ones in every possibleform of musical writing. His greatest compositions may be classed in the following order: “Idomeneus” (1780); “Entführung aus dem Serail” (1781); “Figaro’s Hochzeit” (“The Marriage of Figaro”), (1785); “Don Giovanni” (1787); “Cosi fan Tutti,” “Zauberflöte” (“The Magic Flute”), and “Titus” (1790); and the “Requiem” (1791, the year of his death). The catalogue of Mozart’s works is an immense one, for his period of productivity was unusually long. From the age of five to his death there was not a year that was not crowded with his music. Besides his numerous operas, of which only the more famous are given above, he wrote a large number of symphonies (of which the “Jupiter” is now the best known), sonatas, concertos, for all kinds of instruments, even to musical-glasses, trios, quartets, quintets, and sextets for all possible combinations of instruments, marches, fugues, masses, hymns, arias of extraordinary brilliancy, liturgies, cantatas, songs and ballads, and indeed every form of music that is now known. His style was studied by Beethoven, and so closely imitated that the music of his first period, if published without autograph, would readily be attributed to Mozart. His style was so spontaneous and characteristic that it has been well said there is but one Mozart. The distinguishing trait of his music is its rich melodic beauty and its almost ravishing sweetness. His melody pours along in a bright unbroken stream that sometimes even overflows its banks, so abundant is it. It is peculiarlythe music of youth and spring-time, exquisite in form, graceful in technique, and delightful in expression. It was the source where all his immediate successors went for their inspiration, though it lacked the maturity, majesty, and emotional depths which were reached by such a Titan as Beethoven. Old as it is, and antiquated in form, especially as compared with the work of the new schools, its perennial freshness, grace, and beauty have made it immortal.

Johann Chrysostomus Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, one of the most remarkable of musical geniuses, and the only one of his contemporaries whose operas still hold the stage with unimpaired freshness, was born at Salsburg, Jan. 27, 1756. He was the son of Leopold Mozart, the Salzburgian Vice-Capellmeister, who gave him and his sister Nannerl their earliest instruction in music, and with such good results that the children travelled and gave concerts with great success. Before he was seven years of age he had composed several pieces for piano and violin, his earliest having been written at the age of five. At twelve he became court capellmeister in Salzburg. After his musical travels he went to Vienna, and there began his period of classic activity, which commenced with “Idomeneus,” reached its culmination in “Don Giovanni,” and closed with the “Requiem,”—the “swan-song” of his wonderful career. In his brief life Mozart composed more than fifty great works, besides hundreds of minor ones in every possibleform of musical writing. His greatest compositions may be classed in the following order: “Idomeneus” (1780); “Entführung aus dem Serail” (1781); “Figaro’s Hochzeit” (“The Marriage of Figaro”), (1785); “Don Giovanni” (1787); “Cosi fan Tutti,” “Zauberflöte” (“The Magic Flute”), and “Titus” (1790); and the “Requiem” (1791, the year of his death). The catalogue of Mozart’s works is an immense one, for his period of productivity was unusually long. From the age of five to his death there was not a year that was not crowded with his music. Besides his numerous operas, of which only the more famous are given above, he wrote a large number of symphonies (of which the “Jupiter” is now the best known), sonatas, concertos, for all kinds of instruments, even to musical-glasses, trios, quartets, quintets, and sextets for all possible combinations of instruments, marches, fugues, masses, hymns, arias of extraordinary brilliancy, liturgies, cantatas, songs and ballads, and indeed every form of music that is now known. His style was studied by Beethoven, and so closely imitated that the music of his first period, if published without autograph, would readily be attributed to Mozart. His style was so spontaneous and characteristic that it has been well said there is but one Mozart. The distinguishing trait of his music is its rich melodic beauty and its almost ravishing sweetness. His melody pours along in a bright unbroken stream that sometimes even overflows its banks, so abundant is it. It is peculiarlythe music of youth and spring-time, exquisite in form, graceful in technique, and delightful in expression. It was the source where all his immediate successors went for their inspiration, though it lacked the maturity, majesty, and emotional depths which were reached by such a Titan as Beethoven. Old as it is, and antiquated in form, especially as compared with the work of the new schools, its perennial freshness, grace, and beauty have made it immortal.

King Thamos.The historical drama, “Thamos, King of Egypt,” was written by Freiherr von Gebler. Otto Jahn, in his Life of Mozart, gives the following sketch of its story:—“Menes, King of Egypt, has been deposed by a usurper, Rameses, and, as it is thought, assassinated; but he is living, under the name of Sethos, as high priest of the Temple of the Sun, the secret being known only to the priest Hammon and the general Phanes. After the death of Rameses, his son Thamos is heir to the throne. The day arrives when Thamos attains majority, is to be invested with the diadem, and to select a bride. The friends of Menes seek in vain to persuade him to dispute the throne. He will not oppose the noble youth, whom he loves and esteems. But Pheron, a prince and confidant of Thamos, has, in conjunction with Mirza, the chief of the Virgins of the Sun, organized a conspiracy against Thamos, and wonover a portion of the army. Tharsis, daughter of Menes, who is believed by all, even her father, to be dead, has been brought up by Mirza under the name of Sais. It is arranged that she shall be proclaimed rightful heir to the throne, and, as she will then have the right to choose her consort, Mirza will secure her beforehand for Pheron. When she discovers that Sais loves Thamos, and he her, she induces Sais to believe that Thamos prefers her playmate Myris, and Sais is generous enough to sacrifice her love and her hopes of the throne to her friend. Equally nobly Thamos rejects all suspicions against Pheron, and awards him supreme command. As the time for action draws near, Pheron discloses to Sethos, whom he takes for a devoted follower of Menes, and consequently for an enemy to Thamos, the secret of Sais’ existence and his own plans. Sethos prepares secretly to save Thamos. Sais also, after being pledged to silence by an oath, is initiated into the secret by Mirza and Pheron, and directed to choose Pheron. She declines to give a decided answer, and Pheron announces to Mirza his determination to seize the throne by force in case of extremity. Sais, who believes herself not loved by Thamos, and will not therefore choose him as consort, but will not deprive him of the throne, takes the solemn and irrevocable oath as Virgin of the Sun. Thamos enters, and they discover, to their sorrow, their mutual love. Sethos, entering, enlightens Thamos as to the treachery of Pheron, without disclosing the parentage of Sais. Pheron, disturbed by the report that Menes is still living, comes to take council of Sethos, and adheres to his treacherous design. In solemn assembly Thamos is about to be declared king, when Mirza reveals the fact that Sais is the lost Tharsis, andheiress to the throne. Thamos is the first to offer her his homage. When she is constrained to choose between Thamos and Pheron she declares herself bound by her oath, and announces Thamos as the possessor of the throne. Then Pheron calls his followers to arms, but Sethos steps forward and discloses himself as Menes; whereupon all fall at his feet in joyful emotion. Pheron is disarmed and led off; Mirza stabs herself; Menes, as father and ruler, releases Sais from her oath, unites her with Thamos, and places the pair on the throne. A message arrives that Pheron has been struck with lightning by Divine judgment, and the piece ends.”To this drama Mozart composed the incidental music in 1779 and 1780 at Salzburg, where it was produced under Böhm and Shickaneder’s direction. The play did not keep the stage long. Mozart refers to this circumstance in a letter to his father, written Feb. 15, 1783:—“I regret much not being able to make use of the music for ‘Thamos,’ for not having pleased here, it is included among the tabooed pieces, no longer to be performed. For the sake of the music alone it might possibly be given again, but it is not likely. It is really a pity.”The music consists of five entr’actes and three choruses constructed in a large and majestic style and specially adapted to ceremonial performance. The first is a responsive chorus of maidens and priests (“Before thy Light, Sun-god, thy Foe the Darkness takes Wing”) sung in the temple of thesun at Heliopolis. The second (“Godhead, throned in Power eternal”) is also sung in the temple before Thamos’ coronation, at the beginning of the fifth act, and contains short snatches of solos for a priest and maiden, leading to a close in full harmony for the voices, and an instrumental finale of soft music during which the priest offers sacrifice upon the altar. The third opens with a majestic bass solo for the high priest (“Ye Children of Dust, come, with Trembling, adore ye”) and closes with a stately strain for all the voices (“We Children of Dust in our Reverence tremble”).Although the play was shelved, the music was not lost. Mozart subsequently set the choruses to Latin and German words, and they were adapted as hymns and motets for church use. They are now familiar to musicians as “Splendente te Deus,” “Deus tibi Laus et Honor,” and “Ne Pulvis et Cinis.” Nohl says of them:—“A certain solemnity pervades them such as few of his sacred works possess, and an elevation of feeling only surpassed in the ‘Flauto Magico.’ But the composer has relied on theatrical effect; and thus, in spite of his graver intentions, we find more worldly pomp than religious depth in these choruses, which Mozart worked out with all love and care, even in their most minute details, and which manifest the thoughtful mood that absorbed his soul.”

The historical drama, “Thamos, King of Egypt,” was written by Freiherr von Gebler. Otto Jahn, in his Life of Mozart, gives the following sketch of its story:—

“Menes, King of Egypt, has been deposed by a usurper, Rameses, and, as it is thought, assassinated; but he is living, under the name of Sethos, as high priest of the Temple of the Sun, the secret being known only to the priest Hammon and the general Phanes. After the death of Rameses, his son Thamos is heir to the throne. The day arrives when Thamos attains majority, is to be invested with the diadem, and to select a bride. The friends of Menes seek in vain to persuade him to dispute the throne. He will not oppose the noble youth, whom he loves and esteems. But Pheron, a prince and confidant of Thamos, has, in conjunction with Mirza, the chief of the Virgins of the Sun, organized a conspiracy against Thamos, and wonover a portion of the army. Tharsis, daughter of Menes, who is believed by all, even her father, to be dead, has been brought up by Mirza under the name of Sais. It is arranged that she shall be proclaimed rightful heir to the throne, and, as she will then have the right to choose her consort, Mirza will secure her beforehand for Pheron. When she discovers that Sais loves Thamos, and he her, she induces Sais to believe that Thamos prefers her playmate Myris, and Sais is generous enough to sacrifice her love and her hopes of the throne to her friend. Equally nobly Thamos rejects all suspicions against Pheron, and awards him supreme command. As the time for action draws near, Pheron discloses to Sethos, whom he takes for a devoted follower of Menes, and consequently for an enemy to Thamos, the secret of Sais’ existence and his own plans. Sethos prepares secretly to save Thamos. Sais also, after being pledged to silence by an oath, is initiated into the secret by Mirza and Pheron, and directed to choose Pheron. She declines to give a decided answer, and Pheron announces to Mirza his determination to seize the throne by force in case of extremity. Sais, who believes herself not loved by Thamos, and will not therefore choose him as consort, but will not deprive him of the throne, takes the solemn and irrevocable oath as Virgin of the Sun. Thamos enters, and they discover, to their sorrow, their mutual love. Sethos, entering, enlightens Thamos as to the treachery of Pheron, without disclosing the parentage of Sais. Pheron, disturbed by the report that Menes is still living, comes to take council of Sethos, and adheres to his treacherous design. In solemn assembly Thamos is about to be declared king, when Mirza reveals the fact that Sais is the lost Tharsis, andheiress to the throne. Thamos is the first to offer her his homage. When she is constrained to choose between Thamos and Pheron she declares herself bound by her oath, and announces Thamos as the possessor of the throne. Then Pheron calls his followers to arms, but Sethos steps forward and discloses himself as Menes; whereupon all fall at his feet in joyful emotion. Pheron is disarmed and led off; Mirza stabs herself; Menes, as father and ruler, releases Sais from her oath, unites her with Thamos, and places the pair on the throne. A message arrives that Pheron has been struck with lightning by Divine judgment, and the piece ends.”

To this drama Mozart composed the incidental music in 1779 and 1780 at Salzburg, where it was produced under Böhm and Shickaneder’s direction. The play did not keep the stage long. Mozart refers to this circumstance in a letter to his father, written Feb. 15, 1783:—

“I regret much not being able to make use of the music for ‘Thamos,’ for not having pleased here, it is included among the tabooed pieces, no longer to be performed. For the sake of the music alone it might possibly be given again, but it is not likely. It is really a pity.”

The music consists of five entr’actes and three choruses constructed in a large and majestic style and specially adapted to ceremonial performance. The first is a responsive chorus of maidens and priests (“Before thy Light, Sun-god, thy Foe the Darkness takes Wing”) sung in the temple of thesun at Heliopolis. The second (“Godhead, throned in Power eternal”) is also sung in the temple before Thamos’ coronation, at the beginning of the fifth act, and contains short snatches of solos for a priest and maiden, leading to a close in full harmony for the voices, and an instrumental finale of soft music during which the priest offers sacrifice upon the altar. The third opens with a majestic bass solo for the high priest (“Ye Children of Dust, come, with Trembling, adore ye”) and closes with a stately strain for all the voices (“We Children of Dust in our Reverence tremble”).

Although the play was shelved, the music was not lost. Mozart subsequently set the choruses to Latin and German words, and they were adapted as hymns and motets for church use. They are now familiar to musicians as “Splendente te Deus,” “Deus tibi Laus et Honor,” and “Ne Pulvis et Cinis.” Nohl says of them:—

“A certain solemnity pervades them such as few of his sacred works possess, and an elevation of feeling only surpassed in the ‘Flauto Magico.’ But the composer has relied on theatrical effect; and thus, in spite of his graver intentions, we find more worldly pomp than religious depth in these choruses, which Mozart worked out with all love and care, even in their most minute details, and which manifest the thoughtful mood that absorbed his soul.”

Davidde Penitente.The cantata “Davidde Penitente” was the outcome of a work of love. Before his marriage with Constance Weber, Mozart vowed that when he brought her to Salzburg as his wife he would write a mass for the occasion and have it performed there. In a letter written to his father, Jan. 4, 1783, he says: “As a proof of the fulfilment of this vow, the score of a ‘half-mass’ is now lying by, in hopes of some day being finished.” Holmes, in his admirable Life of Mozart, says:—“To exercise his pen in the grand contrapuntal style of church music was at all times agreeable to him; and he was now free from the local restrictions under which he had written his numerous masses at Salzburg, where neither the style, the length of the pieces, nor their instrumentation was left to his own discretion; hence, making due allowance for the effect of some few years in developing the composer’s genius, the great superiority of ‘Davidde Penitente,’ by which title this mass was in the sequel better known over all the earlier masses, as well for breadth of style as in true ecclesiastical solemnity.”The “half-mass” which Mozart brought to Salzburg in fulfilment of his vow comprised only the Kyrie, Gloria, Sanctus, and Benedictus. The remaining numbers were supplied from another mass, and in this form the work was produced at St. Peter’s Church, Aug. 25, 1783, his wife taking thesolo part. The original work is described as exceedingly majestic and beautiful, particularly the “Gratias” for five, and the “Qui Tollis” for eight-voiced chorus. Jahn says of them that the same wonderful and mysterious impression of the supernatural conveyed by the most beautiful numbers in his Requiem characterizes these choruses.The “half-mass” was destined to undergo still more radical changes. In the spring of 1785 the committee of the society for the relief of the widows and orphans of musicians at Vienna wished to celebrate their annual festival with some new work, and commissioned Mozart to write a cantata. As the time was very short, he took the Kyrie and Gloria of the mass, set Italian words to them, and added four new numbers, in which form it was produced under the title of “Davidde Penitente” at the Burg-theatre, March 13, the solo singers being Fraulein Cavalieri,[32]Fraulein Distler, and Herr Adamberger.[33]The cantata comprises ten numbers. The first number is a chorus (“Alzai le flebile voci”) taken from the “Kyrie” of the mass; the second, an allegro chorus (“Cantiam le lodi”), from the “Gloria;” the third, a soprano solo (“Lungi lecure”), from the “Laudamus;” the fourth, an adagio chorus (“Sii pur sempre”) from the “Gratias;” the fifth, a very melodious soprano duet (“Sorgi o Signore”), from the “Domine Deus;” the sixth, a beautiful tenor aria (“A te fra tanti affanni”), written for Adamberger; the seventh, a double chorus (“Se vuoi, puniscimi”); the eighth, a bravura aria for soprano (“Fra le oscure Ombre”), written for Mademoiselle Cavalieri; the ninth, a terzetto (“Tutti le mie speranze”); and the tenth, a final chorus and fugue which, by general consent of the critics of the time, was called the “queen of vocal fugues.” Notwithstanding the introduction of specially-written arias, and the brilliant music assigned to the soprano, the cantata is regarded as one of the purest examples of Mozart’s church style.[32]Catharina Cavalieri, born in 1761, died June 30, 1801. She was a singer in Italian and German opera in Vienna from 1775 to 1783; but as she never left that city her reputation was purely local. Mozart wrote for her the part of Constanza in his opera “Die Entführing.”[33]Valentin Adamberger was born at Munich, July 6, 1743, and was famed for his splendid tenor voice. Mozart composed for him the part of Belmont in the “Entführing,” and highly esteemed him as a friend and adviser. He died Aug. 24, 1804.

The cantata “Davidde Penitente” was the outcome of a work of love. Before his marriage with Constance Weber, Mozart vowed that when he brought her to Salzburg as his wife he would write a mass for the occasion and have it performed there. In a letter written to his father, Jan. 4, 1783, he says: “As a proof of the fulfilment of this vow, the score of a ‘half-mass’ is now lying by, in hopes of some day being finished.” Holmes, in his admirable Life of Mozart, says:—

“To exercise his pen in the grand contrapuntal style of church music was at all times agreeable to him; and he was now free from the local restrictions under which he had written his numerous masses at Salzburg, where neither the style, the length of the pieces, nor their instrumentation was left to his own discretion; hence, making due allowance for the effect of some few years in developing the composer’s genius, the great superiority of ‘Davidde Penitente,’ by which title this mass was in the sequel better known over all the earlier masses, as well for breadth of style as in true ecclesiastical solemnity.”

The “half-mass” which Mozart brought to Salzburg in fulfilment of his vow comprised only the Kyrie, Gloria, Sanctus, and Benedictus. The remaining numbers were supplied from another mass, and in this form the work was produced at St. Peter’s Church, Aug. 25, 1783, his wife taking thesolo part. The original work is described as exceedingly majestic and beautiful, particularly the “Gratias” for five, and the “Qui Tollis” for eight-voiced chorus. Jahn says of them that the same wonderful and mysterious impression of the supernatural conveyed by the most beautiful numbers in his Requiem characterizes these choruses.

The “half-mass” was destined to undergo still more radical changes. In the spring of 1785 the committee of the society for the relief of the widows and orphans of musicians at Vienna wished to celebrate their annual festival with some new work, and commissioned Mozart to write a cantata. As the time was very short, he took the Kyrie and Gloria of the mass, set Italian words to them, and added four new numbers, in which form it was produced under the title of “Davidde Penitente” at the Burg-theatre, March 13, the solo singers being Fraulein Cavalieri,[32]Fraulein Distler, and Herr Adamberger.[33]The cantata comprises ten numbers. The first number is a chorus (“Alzai le flebile voci”) taken from the “Kyrie” of the mass; the second, an allegro chorus (“Cantiam le lodi”), from the “Gloria;” the third, a soprano solo (“Lungi lecure”), from the “Laudamus;” the fourth, an adagio chorus (“Sii pur sempre”) from the “Gratias;” the fifth, a very melodious soprano duet (“Sorgi o Signore”), from the “Domine Deus;” the sixth, a beautiful tenor aria (“A te fra tanti affanni”), written for Adamberger; the seventh, a double chorus (“Se vuoi, puniscimi”); the eighth, a bravura aria for soprano (“Fra le oscure Ombre”), written for Mademoiselle Cavalieri; the ninth, a terzetto (“Tutti le mie speranze”); and the tenth, a final chorus and fugue which, by general consent of the critics of the time, was called the “queen of vocal fugues.” Notwithstanding the introduction of specially-written arias, and the brilliant music assigned to the soprano, the cantata is regarded as one of the purest examples of Mozart’s church style.

[32]Catharina Cavalieri, born in 1761, died June 30, 1801. She was a singer in Italian and German opera in Vienna from 1775 to 1783; but as she never left that city her reputation was purely local. Mozart wrote for her the part of Constanza in his opera “Die Entführing.”[33]Valentin Adamberger was born at Munich, July 6, 1743, and was famed for his splendid tenor voice. Mozart composed for him the part of Belmont in the “Entführing,” and highly esteemed him as a friend and adviser. He died Aug. 24, 1804.

[32]Catharina Cavalieri, born in 1761, died June 30, 1801. She was a singer in Italian and German opera in Vienna from 1775 to 1783; but as she never left that city her reputation was purely local. Mozart wrote for her the part of Constanza in his opera “Die Entführing.”

[33]Valentin Adamberger was born at Munich, July 6, 1743, and was famed for his splendid tenor voice. Mozart composed for him the part of Belmont in the “Entführing,” and highly esteemed him as a friend and adviser. He died Aug. 24, 1804.

The Masonic Cantatas.Mozart became a member of the Masonic fraternity shortly after his arrival in Vienna in 1784, and devoted himself to its objects with all the ardor of his nature. In the following year his father visited him and was also persuaded to join, though not without considerable entreaty on the son’s part. He was a devoted member of the Church and entertained a deep reverence for its forms. The Church then, as now, was hostile to all secret orders, and was particularly inimical to theMasons because they had attacked certain alleged abuses in the cloisters. His prejudices were overcome, however, and he soon became as ardent a devotee of Masonry as his son. It formed one of the principal subjects of their correspondence; but unfortunately all these letters were destroyed by the cautious father a short time before his death, which occurred May 28, 1787. In only one letter do we find reference to the subject, and that in a guarded manner. On the 3d of April of that year Mozart heard of his father’s illness, and the next day he writes to him:—“I have this moment heard tidings which distress me exceedingly, and the more so that your last letter led me to suppose you were so well; but I now hear that you are really ill. I need not say how anxiously I shall long for a better report of you to comfort me, and I do hope to receive it, though I am always prone to anticipate the worst. As death (when closely considered) is the true goal of our life, I have made myself so thoroughly acquainted with this good and faithful friend of man, that not only has its image no longer anything alarming to me, but rather something most peaceful and consolatory; and I thank my Heavenly Father that He has vouchsafed to grant me the happiness,and has given me the opportunity (you understand me), to learn that it is the key to our true felicity.”Mozart’s membership in the order began at an opportune time for him. Though at the height of his fame he was at the very lowest depth of hisfinances; and both in 1787 and 1789, though he was Imperial Chamber Musician and his opera “Don Giovanni” was having a successful run, he was obliged to apply repeatedly to his friend and brother Mason, the merchant Puchberg of Vienna, for loans, and also to Herr Hofdämmel, who was about to become a Mason upon Mozart’s solicitation. During the short remainder of his life he was devotedly attached to the order, and he was buried in the dress of the brotherhood; but, strange to say, not one of the members accompanied their illustrious associate to the grave.Four of Mozart’s works were directly inspired by Masonry. In 1785 he wrote a simple but beautiful lodge song for voice, with piano accompaniment (“Die ihr einern neuen Grade”). This was followed by the wonderfully beautiful “Freemason’s Funeral Music” for orchestra, written upon the occasion of the death of two brothers in the fraternity, of which Jahn says:—“Mozart has written nothing more beautiful, from its technical treatment and finished effect of sound, its earnest feeling and psychological truth, than this short adagio. It is the utterance of a resolute, manly character, which, in the face of death, pays the rightful tribute to sorrow without being either crushed or stunned by it.”In the same year he composed a small cantata, “Die Maurerfreude,” for tenor and chorus, in honor of Herr Born, the master of the lodge to which hebelonged in Vienna, which is full of true feeling combined with graceful melody.The second cantata, catalogued in Köchel “Eine Kleine Freimaurer Cantate, ‘Laut verkünde unsre Freude,’” better known by its title “Lob der Freundschaft” (“Praise of Friendship”) is notable as the last work written by Mozart. Its date is Nov. 15, 1791, only three weeks before his death. At this time he was engaged in finishing up his “Requiem,” which had such a depressing effect upon him that he was ordered by his physician to lay it aside. The rest he thus secured had such a good effect that by the middle of November he was able to attend a Masonic meeting and produce the little cantata which he had just written for them. On reaching home after the performance he said to his wife, “O Stänerl, how madly they have gone on about my cantata! If I did not know that I had written better things, I should have thought this my best composition.” It is constructed upon a larger scale than the cantata of 1785, and is very pleasing and popular, but lacks the spirit and earnestness of the former. It has six numbers: 1. Chorus, “Laut verkünde unsre Freude;” 2. Recitative, “Zum ersten Male;” 3. Tenor aria, “Dieser Gottheit Allmacht;” 4. Recitative, “Wohlan, ihr Brüder;” 5. Duet, “Lange sallen diese Mauern”; 6. Chorus, “Lasst uns mit geschlungen Händen.” It was Mozart’s swan-song. Two days after its performance he was stricken down with his last illness.

Mozart became a member of the Masonic fraternity shortly after his arrival in Vienna in 1784, and devoted himself to its objects with all the ardor of his nature. In the following year his father visited him and was also persuaded to join, though not without considerable entreaty on the son’s part. He was a devoted member of the Church and entertained a deep reverence for its forms. The Church then, as now, was hostile to all secret orders, and was particularly inimical to theMasons because they had attacked certain alleged abuses in the cloisters. His prejudices were overcome, however, and he soon became as ardent a devotee of Masonry as his son. It formed one of the principal subjects of their correspondence; but unfortunately all these letters were destroyed by the cautious father a short time before his death, which occurred May 28, 1787. In only one letter do we find reference to the subject, and that in a guarded manner. On the 3d of April of that year Mozart heard of his father’s illness, and the next day he writes to him:—

“I have this moment heard tidings which distress me exceedingly, and the more so that your last letter led me to suppose you were so well; but I now hear that you are really ill. I need not say how anxiously I shall long for a better report of you to comfort me, and I do hope to receive it, though I am always prone to anticipate the worst. As death (when closely considered) is the true goal of our life, I have made myself so thoroughly acquainted with this good and faithful friend of man, that not only has its image no longer anything alarming to me, but rather something most peaceful and consolatory; and I thank my Heavenly Father that He has vouchsafed to grant me the happiness,and has given me the opportunity (you understand me), to learn that it is the key to our true felicity.”

Mozart’s membership in the order began at an opportune time for him. Though at the height of his fame he was at the very lowest depth of hisfinances; and both in 1787 and 1789, though he was Imperial Chamber Musician and his opera “Don Giovanni” was having a successful run, he was obliged to apply repeatedly to his friend and brother Mason, the merchant Puchberg of Vienna, for loans, and also to Herr Hofdämmel, who was about to become a Mason upon Mozart’s solicitation. During the short remainder of his life he was devotedly attached to the order, and he was buried in the dress of the brotherhood; but, strange to say, not one of the members accompanied their illustrious associate to the grave.

Four of Mozart’s works were directly inspired by Masonry. In 1785 he wrote a simple but beautiful lodge song for voice, with piano accompaniment (“Die ihr einern neuen Grade”). This was followed by the wonderfully beautiful “Freemason’s Funeral Music” for orchestra, written upon the occasion of the death of two brothers in the fraternity, of which Jahn says:—

“Mozart has written nothing more beautiful, from its technical treatment and finished effect of sound, its earnest feeling and psychological truth, than this short adagio. It is the utterance of a resolute, manly character, which, in the face of death, pays the rightful tribute to sorrow without being either crushed or stunned by it.”

In the same year he composed a small cantata, “Die Maurerfreude,” for tenor and chorus, in honor of Herr Born, the master of the lodge to which hebelonged in Vienna, which is full of true feeling combined with graceful melody.

The second cantata, catalogued in Köchel “Eine Kleine Freimaurer Cantate, ‘Laut verkünde unsre Freude,’” better known by its title “Lob der Freundschaft” (“Praise of Friendship”) is notable as the last work written by Mozart. Its date is Nov. 15, 1791, only three weeks before his death. At this time he was engaged in finishing up his “Requiem,” which had such a depressing effect upon him that he was ordered by his physician to lay it aside. The rest he thus secured had such a good effect that by the middle of November he was able to attend a Masonic meeting and produce the little cantata which he had just written for them. On reaching home after the performance he said to his wife, “O Stänerl, how madly they have gone on about my cantata! If I did not know that I had written better things, I should have thought this my best composition.” It is constructed upon a larger scale than the cantata of 1785, and is very pleasing and popular, but lacks the spirit and earnestness of the former. It has six numbers: 1. Chorus, “Laut verkünde unsre Freude;” 2. Recitative, “Zum ersten Male;” 3. Tenor aria, “Dieser Gottheit Allmacht;” 4. Recitative, “Wohlan, ihr Brüder;” 5. Duet, “Lange sallen diese Mauern”; 6. Chorus, “Lasst uns mit geschlungen Händen.” It was Mozart’s swan-song. Two days after its performance he was stricken down with his last illness.

PAINE.John K. Paine, one of the very few really eminent American composers, was born at Portland, Me., Jan. 9, 1839. He studied the piano, organ, and composition with Kotzschmar in that city, and made his first public appearance as an organist, June 25, 1857. During the following year he went to Germany, and studied the organ, composition, and instrumentation with Haupt and other masters in Berlin. He returned to this country in 1861, and gave several concerts, in which he played many of the organ works of the best writers for the first time in the United States. Shortly after his return he was appointed instructor of music in Harvard University, and in 1876 was honored with the elevation to a professorship and given a regular chair. He is best known as a composer, and several of his works have been paid the rare compliment of performance in Germany, among them his Mass in D and all his symphonies. The former was given at the Berlin Singakademie in 1867, under his own direction. Among his principal compositions are the oratorio “St. Peter,” the music to “Œdipus,” the cantatas,“Nativity,” “The Realm of Fancy,” and “Phœbus, Arise;” the Mass in D; the Centennial Hymn, set to Whittier’s poem, and sung at the opening of the Philadelphia Centennial Exhibition; the overture to “As You Like It;” “The Tempest,” in the style of a symphonic poem; the symphony in C minor, and “Spring” symphony; besides numerous sonatas, fantasias, preludes, songs, and arrangements for organ and piano. His larger orchestral works have been made familiar to American audiences by Mr. Theodore Thomas’s band, and have invariably met with success. His style of composition is large, broad, and dignified, based upon the best classic models, and evinces a high degree of musical scholarship.

John K. Paine, one of the very few really eminent American composers, was born at Portland, Me., Jan. 9, 1839. He studied the piano, organ, and composition with Kotzschmar in that city, and made his first public appearance as an organist, June 25, 1857. During the following year he went to Germany, and studied the organ, composition, and instrumentation with Haupt and other masters in Berlin. He returned to this country in 1861, and gave several concerts, in which he played many of the organ works of the best writers for the first time in the United States. Shortly after his return he was appointed instructor of music in Harvard University, and in 1876 was honored with the elevation to a professorship and given a regular chair. He is best known as a composer, and several of his works have been paid the rare compliment of performance in Germany, among them his Mass in D and all his symphonies. The former was given at the Berlin Singakademie in 1867, under his own direction. Among his principal compositions are the oratorio “St. Peter,” the music to “Œdipus,” the cantatas,“Nativity,” “The Realm of Fancy,” and “Phœbus, Arise;” the Mass in D; the Centennial Hymn, set to Whittier’s poem, and sung at the opening of the Philadelphia Centennial Exhibition; the overture to “As You Like It;” “The Tempest,” in the style of a symphonic poem; the symphony in C minor, and “Spring” symphony; besides numerous sonatas, fantasias, preludes, songs, and arrangements for organ and piano. His larger orchestral works have been made familiar to American audiences by Mr. Theodore Thomas’s band, and have invariably met with success. His style of composition is large, broad, and dignified, based upon the best classic models, and evinces a high degree of musical scholarship.

Œdipus Tyrannus.The first public performance of the “Œdipus Tyrannus” of Sophocles in this country was given at the Sanders Theatre (Harvard College), Cambridge, Mass., May 17, 1881, for which occasion Mr. Paine composed the music incidental to the world-famous tragedy. The performance was a memorable one in many ways. The tragedy was given in the original language. It was the first event of the kind in America. The audience was a representative one in culture, education, and social brilliancy. The programme was also unique, being printed in Greek, and translated into English was as follows:—TO ALL THE SPECTATORS GREETING.[The college seal.]Six verses from the Eumenides of Æschylus:“Hail people of the cityThat sit near to Zeus,Friends of the friendly goddess,Wise in your generation,Ye whom under the wings of PallasThe father guards.”THE ŒDIPUS TYRANNUS OF SOPHOCLESWILL BE REPRESENTED IN THE THEATRE OF HARVARD UNIVERSITYon the 17th of May (Θαργηλιών), 1881, and again on the 19th, 20th, and 21st.DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.Œdipus, King of ThebesGeorge Riddle.Priest of ZeusWilliam Hobbs Manning.Creon, Jocasta’s brotherHenry Norman.Teiresias, the blind seerCurtis Guild.Jocasta, Queen of ThebesLeonard Eckstein Opdycke.Messenger, from CorinthArthur Wellington Roberts.Servant of LaiusGardiner Martin Lane.Messenger from the PalaceOwen Wister.ATTENDANTS.Attendants on ŒdipusJ. R. Coolidge, E. J. Wendell.Attendants on JocastaJ. J. Greenough, W. L. Putnam.Attendants on CreonG. P. Keith, J. Lee.Boy guide of TeiresiasC. H. Goodwin.AntigoneE. Manning.IsmeneJ. K. Whittemore.Suppliants.—G. P. Keith, G. D. Markham(priests),W. H. Herrick, J. Lee, E. Lovering, H. Putnam, L. A. Shaw, C. M. Walsh(chosen youths),C. H. Goodwin, E. Manning, R. Manning, W. Merrill, E. R. Thayer, J. K. Whittemore(boys).CHORUS OF THEBAN OLD MEN.CoryphæusLouis Butler McCagg.Assistant to the chorus in the third stasmon, with soloGeorge Laurie Osgood.MEMBERS OF THE CHORUS.N. M. Brigham,Frederick R. Burton,Henry G. Chapin,Sumner Coolidge,Edward P. Mason,Marshall H. Cushing,Wendell P. Davis,Morris Earle,Percival J. Eaton,Gustavus Tuckerman,Charles S. Hamlin,Jared S. How,Howard Lilienthal,Charles F. Mason.Leader of the chorus and composer of the musicJohn Knowles Paine.PrompterGeorge L. Kittredge.The scene is laid in front of the palace in Boetian Thebes. The chorus is composed of Theban old men. Œdipus speaks first. The managers request all the spectators to remain sitting until the postlude is ended. Immediately after the last chorus has been sung there will be a pause for those who wish to go out. After this the doors will be closed.After the play, horse-cars (ἅμαξαι ἱπποσιδηροδρομικαὶ) will be ready for those who want to go to the city.Wilsons, printers. (Οὐιλσῶνεσ τύποις ἔγαψαν.)The story of the Theban hero, his ignorance of his own parentage, his dismay at the revelation of the oracle that he would kill his father and marry his mother, his quarrel with the former, resulting in the very tragedy he was seeking to avoid, his solution of the riddle of the sphinx, the reward of the Queen’s hand which Creon had promised, leading to the unfortunate marriage with his mother, Jocasta, thus completing the revelation of the oracle, does not need description in detail. The marriage was followedby a pestilence that wasted Thebes, and at this point the plot of the drama begins. It concerns itself with the efforts of Œdipus to unravel the mystery of the death of his father, Laius, which lead to the discovery that he himself was the murderer, and that he had been guilty of incest with his own mother. Jocasta hangs herself, and Œdipus, rushing frantically into the palace, beholds her, and overwhelmed with horror at the sight and the fulfilment of the oracle, seizes her brooch-pin and blinds himself. In the Œdipus at Colonos the sequel is told. The hero dies in the gardens of the Eumenides, happy in the love of his daughters and the pardon which fate grants him.The music to the tragedy is thoroughly classical in spirit, and has all the nobility, breadth, dignity, and grace characteristic of the Greek idea. The principal lyric movements of the chorus, the choral odes, of which there are six, comprise the scheme of the composer. The melodramatic practice of the orchestra accompanying spoken dialogue only appears to a limited extent in the third ode; and the chorus, as narrator, is accompanied by music only in the seven last lines of the play, which form the postlude. The orchestral introduction, which is treated in a very skilful and scholarly manner, epitomizes the spirit of the work. The odes are divided as usual into strophes and antistrophes, assigned alternately to a male chorus of fifteen and full chorus. The first (“Oracle sweet-tongued of Zeus”), which has the genuine antique dignity andelevation, is a description of the sufferings of the people from the pestilence which has wasted Thebes since the unnatural marriage of Œdipus and Jocasta, and a fervent prayer to the gods for aid. The second (“Thou Delphic Rock, who can he be?”) concludes the scene where the blind prophet Teiresias arrives upon the summons of Creon and accuses Œdipus of the crime, accompanying the accusation with dark hints of further guilt. In this ode, which is specially noticeable for its rich and graceful treatment, the chorus expresses its disbelief of the charges. In the third scene, Creon enters to protest against the accusations of Œdipus, but a quarrel ensues between them, which results in the menace of death to the former. Jocasta appears, and upon her intercession Creon is allowed to depart. In the ode, the chorus joins in this appeal to Œdipus,—a strong, vigorous number, the effect of which is heightened by the intervening spoken parts of Creon, Œdipus, and Jocasta, with musical accompaniment. The fourth ode (“O may my Life be spent in Virtue”) is a vigorous denunciation of the impiety of Jocasta in speaking scornfully of the oracles. The fifth ode (“If I the Prophet’s Gift possess”) is full of idyllic grace and sweetness, realizing in a remarkable degree the old Grecian idea of sensuous beauty. It is a speculation upon the divine origin of Œdipus, after the messenger relates the story of the King’s exposure in his childhood upon Mount Cithæron, and contains a charming tenor solo. The last ode (“O Race of mortalMen”) bewails the vicissitudes of fortune, and is full of the tragic significance of impending fate. The work comes to a close with the postlude:—“Ye who dwell in Thebes our city, fix on Œdipus your eyes,Who resolved the dark enigma, noblest liver and most wise.Glorious like a sun he mounted, envied of the popular throng,Now he sinks in seas of anguish, quenched the stormy waves among.Therefore I await the final hour, to ancient wisdom known,Ere I call one mortal happy. Never shall that thought be shown,Till he end his earthly being, scathless of a sigh or groan.”Six public performances of the “Œdipus” were given in 1881, and every season since that time selections from the music have been performed in New York, Boston, and other cities. As the most important and scholarly work an American composer has yet produced, it cannot be heard too often.

The first public performance of the “Œdipus Tyrannus” of Sophocles in this country was given at the Sanders Theatre (Harvard College), Cambridge, Mass., May 17, 1881, for which occasion Mr. Paine composed the music incidental to the world-famous tragedy. The performance was a memorable one in many ways. The tragedy was given in the original language. It was the first event of the kind in America. The audience was a representative one in culture, education, and social brilliancy. The programme was also unique, being printed in Greek, and translated into English was as follows:—

TO ALL THE SPECTATORS GREETING.[The college seal.]Six verses from the Eumenides of Æschylus:“Hail people of the cityThat sit near to Zeus,Friends of the friendly goddess,Wise in your generation,Ye whom under the wings of PallasThe father guards.”THE ŒDIPUS TYRANNUS OF SOPHOCLESWILL BE REPRESENTED IN THE THEATRE OF HARVARD UNIVERSITYon the 17th of May (Θαργηλιών), 1881, and again on the 19th, 20th, and 21st.DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.Œdipus, King of ThebesGeorge Riddle.Priest of ZeusWilliam Hobbs Manning.Creon, Jocasta’s brotherHenry Norman.Teiresias, the blind seerCurtis Guild.Jocasta, Queen of ThebesLeonard Eckstein Opdycke.Messenger, from CorinthArthur Wellington Roberts.Servant of LaiusGardiner Martin Lane.Messenger from the PalaceOwen Wister.ATTENDANTS.Attendants on ŒdipusJ. R. Coolidge, E. J. Wendell.Attendants on JocastaJ. J. Greenough, W. L. Putnam.Attendants on CreonG. P. Keith, J. Lee.Boy guide of TeiresiasC. H. Goodwin.AntigoneE. Manning.IsmeneJ. K. Whittemore.Suppliants.—G. P. Keith, G. D. Markham(priests),W. H. Herrick, J. Lee, E. Lovering, H. Putnam, L. A. Shaw, C. M. Walsh(chosen youths),C. H. Goodwin, E. Manning, R. Manning, W. Merrill, E. R. Thayer, J. K. Whittemore(boys).CHORUS OF THEBAN OLD MEN.CoryphæusLouis Butler McCagg.Assistant to the chorus in the third stasmon, with soloGeorge Laurie Osgood.MEMBERS OF THE CHORUS.N. M. Brigham,Frederick R. Burton,Henry G. Chapin,Sumner Coolidge,Edward P. Mason,Marshall H. Cushing,Wendell P. Davis,Morris Earle,Percival J. Eaton,Gustavus Tuckerman,Charles S. Hamlin,Jared S. How,Howard Lilienthal,Charles F. Mason.Leader of the chorus and composer of the musicJohn Knowles Paine.PrompterGeorge L. Kittredge.The scene is laid in front of the palace in Boetian Thebes. The chorus is composed of Theban old men. Œdipus speaks first. The managers request all the spectators to remain sitting until the postlude is ended. Immediately after the last chorus has been sung there will be a pause for those who wish to go out. After this the doors will be closed.

TO ALL THE SPECTATORS GREETING.

[The college seal.]

Six verses from the Eumenides of Æschylus:

“Hail people of the cityThat sit near to Zeus,Friends of the friendly goddess,Wise in your generation,Ye whom under the wings of PallasThe father guards.”

“Hail people of the city

That sit near to Zeus,

Friends of the friendly goddess,

Wise in your generation,

Ye whom under the wings of Pallas

The father guards.”

THE ŒDIPUS TYRANNUS OF SOPHOCLESWILL BE REPRESENTED IN THE THEATRE OF HARVARD UNIVERSITYon the 17th of May (Θαργηλιών), 1881, and again on the 19th, 20th, and 21st.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

ATTENDANTS.

CHORUS OF THEBAN OLD MEN.

MEMBERS OF THE CHORUS.

The scene is laid in front of the palace in Boetian Thebes. The chorus is composed of Theban old men. Œdipus speaks first. The managers request all the spectators to remain sitting until the postlude is ended. Immediately after the last chorus has been sung there will be a pause for those who wish to go out. After this the doors will be closed.

After the play, horse-cars (ἅμαξαι ἱπποσιδηροδρομικαὶ) will be ready for those who want to go to the city.

Wilsons, printers. (Οὐιλσῶνεσ τύποις ἔγαψαν.)

The story of the Theban hero, his ignorance of his own parentage, his dismay at the revelation of the oracle that he would kill his father and marry his mother, his quarrel with the former, resulting in the very tragedy he was seeking to avoid, his solution of the riddle of the sphinx, the reward of the Queen’s hand which Creon had promised, leading to the unfortunate marriage with his mother, Jocasta, thus completing the revelation of the oracle, does not need description in detail. The marriage was followedby a pestilence that wasted Thebes, and at this point the plot of the drama begins. It concerns itself with the efforts of Œdipus to unravel the mystery of the death of his father, Laius, which lead to the discovery that he himself was the murderer, and that he had been guilty of incest with his own mother. Jocasta hangs herself, and Œdipus, rushing frantically into the palace, beholds her, and overwhelmed with horror at the sight and the fulfilment of the oracle, seizes her brooch-pin and blinds himself. In the Œdipus at Colonos the sequel is told. The hero dies in the gardens of the Eumenides, happy in the love of his daughters and the pardon which fate grants him.

The music to the tragedy is thoroughly classical in spirit, and has all the nobility, breadth, dignity, and grace characteristic of the Greek idea. The principal lyric movements of the chorus, the choral odes, of which there are six, comprise the scheme of the composer. The melodramatic practice of the orchestra accompanying spoken dialogue only appears to a limited extent in the third ode; and the chorus, as narrator, is accompanied by music only in the seven last lines of the play, which form the postlude. The orchestral introduction, which is treated in a very skilful and scholarly manner, epitomizes the spirit of the work. The odes are divided as usual into strophes and antistrophes, assigned alternately to a male chorus of fifteen and full chorus. The first (“Oracle sweet-tongued of Zeus”), which has the genuine antique dignity andelevation, is a description of the sufferings of the people from the pestilence which has wasted Thebes since the unnatural marriage of Œdipus and Jocasta, and a fervent prayer to the gods for aid. The second (“Thou Delphic Rock, who can he be?”) concludes the scene where the blind prophet Teiresias arrives upon the summons of Creon and accuses Œdipus of the crime, accompanying the accusation with dark hints of further guilt. In this ode, which is specially noticeable for its rich and graceful treatment, the chorus expresses its disbelief of the charges. In the third scene, Creon enters to protest against the accusations of Œdipus, but a quarrel ensues between them, which results in the menace of death to the former. Jocasta appears, and upon her intercession Creon is allowed to depart. In the ode, the chorus joins in this appeal to Œdipus,—a strong, vigorous number, the effect of which is heightened by the intervening spoken parts of Creon, Œdipus, and Jocasta, with musical accompaniment. The fourth ode (“O may my Life be spent in Virtue”) is a vigorous denunciation of the impiety of Jocasta in speaking scornfully of the oracles. The fifth ode (“If I the Prophet’s Gift possess”) is full of idyllic grace and sweetness, realizing in a remarkable degree the old Grecian idea of sensuous beauty. It is a speculation upon the divine origin of Œdipus, after the messenger relates the story of the King’s exposure in his childhood upon Mount Cithæron, and contains a charming tenor solo. The last ode (“O Race of mortalMen”) bewails the vicissitudes of fortune, and is full of the tragic significance of impending fate. The work comes to a close with the postlude:—

“Ye who dwell in Thebes our city, fix on Œdipus your eyes,Who resolved the dark enigma, noblest liver and most wise.Glorious like a sun he mounted, envied of the popular throng,Now he sinks in seas of anguish, quenched the stormy waves among.Therefore I await the final hour, to ancient wisdom known,Ere I call one mortal happy. Never shall that thought be shown,Till he end his earthly being, scathless of a sigh or groan.”

“Ye who dwell in Thebes our city, fix on Œdipus your eyes,Who resolved the dark enigma, noblest liver and most wise.Glorious like a sun he mounted, envied of the popular throng,Now he sinks in seas of anguish, quenched the stormy waves among.Therefore I await the final hour, to ancient wisdom known,Ere I call one mortal happy. Never shall that thought be shown,Till he end his earthly being, scathless of a sigh or groan.”

“Ye who dwell in Thebes our city, fix on Œdipus your eyes,

Who resolved the dark enigma, noblest liver and most wise.

Glorious like a sun he mounted, envied of the popular throng,

Now he sinks in seas of anguish, quenched the stormy waves among.

Therefore I await the final hour, to ancient wisdom known,

Ere I call one mortal happy. Never shall that thought be shown,

Till he end his earthly being, scathless of a sigh or groan.”

Six public performances of the “Œdipus” were given in 1881, and every season since that time selections from the music have been performed in New York, Boston, and other cities. As the most important and scholarly work an American composer has yet produced, it cannot be heard too often.

The Nativity.The text of “The Nativity,” for chorus, solo voices, and orchestra, is taken from the hymn in Milton’s ode “On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity,” and is composed in three parts. The first part includes the first, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh; the second, a combination of the eighth and ninth; and the third, the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth verses. After a short instrumental introduction, which works up to an effective climax, the cantata begins with a chorus (“It was the Winter wild”), introduced by the soprano, developing to full harmonyat the words, “Nature in Awe to Him,” and closing pianissimo. After a short soprano solo (“But, He her Fears to cease”) the chorus resumes (“With Turtle Wing the amorous Clouds dividing”). A succession of choral passages follows, admirably suggestive of the sentiment of the poem,—a vigorous, stirring allegro, “No War or Battle’s Sound was heard the World around;” “And Kings sat still with awful Eye,” broadly and forcibly written; and a tender, graceful number, “But peaceful was the Night.” They are followed by another soprano solo (“And though the shady Gloom”), full of brightness and animation, which leads directly to a majestic chorus (“He saw a greater Sun appear”), which closes the first part.The second part, a quartet and chorus, is pastoral in character, and reflects the idyllic quiet and beauty of the text. The quartet, “The Shepherds on the Lawn,” is introduced by short tenor, bass, and alto solos, and also contains a very melodious and graceful solo for soprano (“When such Music sweet their Hearts and Ears did greet”), after which the full quartet leads up to a vigorous chorus (“The Air such Pleasure loath to lose”), closing the part.The third part is choral, and forms an effective climax to the work. It opens with the powerful chorus, “Ring out, ye crystal Spheres,” emphasized by the organ bass with stately effect, and moves on majestically to the close,—“And Heaven as at some festivalWill open wide the gates of her high palace hall.”

The text of “The Nativity,” for chorus, solo voices, and orchestra, is taken from the hymn in Milton’s ode “On the Morning of Christ’s Nativity,” and is composed in three parts. The first part includes the first, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh; the second, a combination of the eighth and ninth; and the third, the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth verses. After a short instrumental introduction, which works up to an effective climax, the cantata begins with a chorus (“It was the Winter wild”), introduced by the soprano, developing to full harmonyat the words, “Nature in Awe to Him,” and closing pianissimo. After a short soprano solo (“But, He her Fears to cease”) the chorus resumes (“With Turtle Wing the amorous Clouds dividing”). A succession of choral passages follows, admirably suggestive of the sentiment of the poem,—a vigorous, stirring allegro, “No War or Battle’s Sound was heard the World around;” “And Kings sat still with awful Eye,” broadly and forcibly written; and a tender, graceful number, “But peaceful was the Night.” They are followed by another soprano solo (“And though the shady Gloom”), full of brightness and animation, which leads directly to a majestic chorus (“He saw a greater Sun appear”), which closes the first part.

The second part, a quartet and chorus, is pastoral in character, and reflects the idyllic quiet and beauty of the text. The quartet, “The Shepherds on the Lawn,” is introduced by short tenor, bass, and alto solos, and also contains a very melodious and graceful solo for soprano (“When such Music sweet their Hearts and Ears did greet”), after which the full quartet leads up to a vigorous chorus (“The Air such Pleasure loath to lose”), closing the part.

The third part is choral, and forms an effective climax to the work. It opens with the powerful chorus, “Ring out, ye crystal Spheres,” emphasized by the organ bass with stately effect, and moves on majestically to the close,—

“And Heaven as at some festivalWill open wide the gates of her high palace hall.”

“And Heaven as at some festivalWill open wide the gates of her high palace hall.”

“And Heaven as at some festival

Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall.”

The Realm of Fancy.“The Realm of Fancy” is a short cantata, the music set to Keats’s familiar poem:—“Ever let the fancy roam,Pleasure never is at home:At a touch sweet pleasure melteth,Like to bubbles when rain pelteth.”With the exception of a dozen lines, the dainty poem is used entire, and is set to music with a keen appreciation of its graceful beauty. A short allegretto fancifully trips along to the opening chorus (“Ever let the Fancy roam”), which is admirable for its shifting play of musical color. A soprano solo (“She will bring in spite of Frost”), followed by a very expressive barytone solo (“Thou shalt at a Glance behold the Daisy and the Marigold”), leads up to a charming little chorus (“Shaded Hyacinth, always Sapphire Queen”). A short instrumental passage, in the time of the opening allegretto, introduces the final chorus (“O Sweet Fancy, let her loose”), charmingly worked up, and closing in canon form. The cantata is very short; but rarely have poem and music been more happily wedded than in this delightful tribute to fancy.

“The Realm of Fancy” is a short cantata, the music set to Keats’s familiar poem:—

“Ever let the fancy roam,Pleasure never is at home:At a touch sweet pleasure melteth,Like to bubbles when rain pelteth.”

“Ever let the fancy roam,Pleasure never is at home:At a touch sweet pleasure melteth,Like to bubbles when rain pelteth.”

“Ever let the fancy roam,

Pleasure never is at home:

At a touch sweet pleasure melteth,

Like to bubbles when rain pelteth.”

With the exception of a dozen lines, the dainty poem is used entire, and is set to music with a keen appreciation of its graceful beauty. A short allegretto fancifully trips along to the opening chorus (“Ever let the Fancy roam”), which is admirable for its shifting play of musical color. A soprano solo (“She will bring in spite of Frost”), followed by a very expressive barytone solo (“Thou shalt at a Glance behold the Daisy and the Marigold”), leads up to a charming little chorus (“Shaded Hyacinth, always Sapphire Queen”). A short instrumental passage, in the time of the opening allegretto, introduces the final chorus (“O Sweet Fancy, let her loose”), charmingly worked up, and closing in canon form. The cantata is very short; but rarely have poem and music been more happily wedded than in this delightful tribute to fancy.

Phœbus, Arise.Mr. Paine’s ripe scholarship is shown to admirable advantage in his selection of the poem “Phœbus, Arise” from among the lyrics of the old Scottish poet, William Drummond, of Hawthornden, and the characteristic old-style setting he has given to it. Like “The Realm of Fancy,” it is very short; but like that cantata, also, it illustrates the versatility of his talent and the happy manner in which he preserves the characteristics of the poem in his music. Drummond, who has been called “the Scottish Petrarch,” and whose poems were so celebrated that even Ben Jonson could find it in his way to visit him, was noted for the grace and lightness of his verse, and the pensive cast with which it was tinged. It has little of the modern poetic style, and the composer has clothed his poem in a musical garb to correspond.The cantata is written for tenor solo, male chorus, and orchestra, and opens with a brilliant chorus (“Phœbus, arise, and paint the sable Skies with azure, white, and red”), closing with a crescendo in the old style. An expressive and somewhat pensive tenor solo follows:—“This is that happy mornAnd day, long-wishèd day,Of all my life so dark(If cruel stars have not my ruin swornAnd fates my hope betray),Which purely white deservesAn everlasting diamond should it mark.This is the morn should bring unto the groveMy love, to hear, and recompense my love.”A short choral passage with tenor solo (“Fair King, who all preserves”) leads to a full rich chorus (“Now, Flora, deck thyself in fairest Guise”). In the next number the chorus returns to the opening theme (“Phœbus, Arise”), and develops it with constantly increasing power to the close.

Mr. Paine’s ripe scholarship is shown to admirable advantage in his selection of the poem “Phœbus, Arise” from among the lyrics of the old Scottish poet, William Drummond, of Hawthornden, and the characteristic old-style setting he has given to it. Like “The Realm of Fancy,” it is very short; but like that cantata, also, it illustrates the versatility of his talent and the happy manner in which he preserves the characteristics of the poem in his music. Drummond, who has been called “the Scottish Petrarch,” and whose poems were so celebrated that even Ben Jonson could find it in his way to visit him, was noted for the grace and lightness of his verse, and the pensive cast with which it was tinged. It has little of the modern poetic style, and the composer has clothed his poem in a musical garb to correspond.

The cantata is written for tenor solo, male chorus, and orchestra, and opens with a brilliant chorus (“Phœbus, arise, and paint the sable Skies with azure, white, and red”), closing with a crescendo in the old style. An expressive and somewhat pensive tenor solo follows:—

“This is that happy mornAnd day, long-wishèd day,Of all my life so dark(If cruel stars have not my ruin swornAnd fates my hope betray),Which purely white deservesAn everlasting diamond should it mark.This is the morn should bring unto the groveMy love, to hear, and recompense my love.”

“This is that happy mornAnd day, long-wishèd day,Of all my life so dark(If cruel stars have not my ruin swornAnd fates my hope betray),Which purely white deservesAn everlasting diamond should it mark.This is the morn should bring unto the groveMy love, to hear, and recompense my love.”

“This is that happy morn

And day, long-wishèd day,

Of all my life so dark

(If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn

And fates my hope betray),

Which purely white deserves

An everlasting diamond should it mark.

This is the morn should bring unto the grove

My love, to hear, and recompense my love.”

A short choral passage with tenor solo (“Fair King, who all preserves”) leads to a full rich chorus (“Now, Flora, deck thyself in fairest Guise”). In the next number the chorus returns to the opening theme (“Phœbus, Arise”), and develops it with constantly increasing power to the close.

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