ROSSINI.

[251]ROSSINI.Gioachino Antonio Rossini, the father of the modern Italian school of opera, was born Feb. 29, 1792, at Pesaro, in the Romagna. His father was an accomplished musician, and his mother a professional singer, so that he was brought up in a musical atmosphere. Even as a boy he sang with his mother in the theatre. He first studied with Mattei, and later with Martini. His first opera, "Demetrio e Polibio," was brought out at Rome in 1812, and before he had concluded his life-work, more than forty of his operas had been given in almost every part of Europe,--a crowning result of labor and contemporaneous fame not often enjoyed by composers. His "Tancredi," which was produced for the first time at Venice in 1813, was the opera which made him famous, and its remarkable success spread his reputation far and wide. In 1815 appeared "L' Italiana in Algeri" and "Aureliano in Palmira;" in 1816, "Elisabetta," "Otello," and his splendid work "The Barber of Seville," which, though his masterpiece, is said to have been[252]written in fourteen days; in 1817, "La Cenerentola," "La Gazza Ladra," and "Armida;" and in 1819, "Ricciardo e Zoraïde," "La Donna del Lago," and many others. From 1815 to 1822 Rossini was under the "management" of theimpresarioBarbaja in Naples, who had much difficulty in keeping him to the work of composition, his facility in writing often leading him to defer work until it was the very eve of performance. In 1823, under the auspices of Barbaja, and with the assistance of the prima donna, Colbran, whom Rossini married about this time, his opera "Zelmira" and others of his works were given with such brilliant success as to raise his aspirations for a wider and more promising field of labor. In the year 1823 he went to Paris and London, finally settling in the former city, where he not only began a new grand opera, but also gave himself to the study and development of orchestral music and the encouragement of artists. His home was the Mecca of singers, and, like Liszt's at Weimar, the centre of art influences. The new work was "William Tell," which was first brought out in Paris in 1829. It was his last important effort. It met with only temporary success, though it enjoys to-day a reputation almost equal to that of the "Barber." His most celebrated work in sacred music is the "Stabat Mater," which, though written in operatic style and very brilliant in coloring, has retained its place in popular favor, and is to-day as eagerly sought for by artists and the public as it was in his own day. Among his other sacred works is "Moses[253]in Egypt,"--originally written as an oratorio for the San Carlo in Naples, and brought out there in 1818, though subsequently recast and provided with a revised libretto for the Paris Grand Opera in 1827. The "Prayer" from this work has a world-wide popularity. During the latter years of his life Rossini gave up composition entirely,--in part because of the eventual failure of his "William Tell,"--and enjoyed the fruits of his labors at his beautiful villa in Passy. He died Nov. 14, 1868. His sacred works, besides those already mentioned, are a few Italian oratorios, now unknown, three choruses, "Faith, Hope, and Charity," the "Petite Messe Solenelle," a "Tantum Ergo," a "Quoniam," and an "O Salutaris."

Gioachino Antonio Rossini, the father of the modern Italian school of opera, was born Feb. 29, 1792, at Pesaro, in the Romagna. His father was an accomplished musician, and his mother a professional singer, so that he was brought up in a musical atmosphere. Even as a boy he sang with his mother in the theatre. He first studied with Mattei, and later with Martini. His first opera, "Demetrio e Polibio," was brought out at Rome in 1812, and before he had concluded his life-work, more than forty of his operas had been given in almost every part of Europe,--a crowning result of labor and contemporaneous fame not often enjoyed by composers. His "Tancredi," which was produced for the first time at Venice in 1813, was the opera which made him famous, and its remarkable success spread his reputation far and wide. In 1815 appeared "L' Italiana in Algeri" and "Aureliano in Palmira;" in 1816, "Elisabetta," "Otello," and his splendid work "The Barber of Seville," which, though his masterpiece, is said to have been[252]written in fourteen days; in 1817, "La Cenerentola," "La Gazza Ladra," and "Armida;" and in 1819, "Ricciardo e Zoraïde," "La Donna del Lago," and many others. From 1815 to 1822 Rossini was under the "management" of theimpresarioBarbaja in Naples, who had much difficulty in keeping him to the work of composition, his facility in writing often leading him to defer work until it was the very eve of performance. In 1823, under the auspices of Barbaja, and with the assistance of the prima donna, Colbran, whom Rossini married about this time, his opera "Zelmira" and others of his works were given with such brilliant success as to raise his aspirations for a wider and more promising field of labor. In the year 1823 he went to Paris and London, finally settling in the former city, where he not only began a new grand opera, but also gave himself to the study and development of orchestral music and the encouragement of artists. His home was the Mecca of singers, and, like Liszt's at Weimar, the centre of art influences. The new work was "William Tell," which was first brought out in Paris in 1829. It was his last important effort. It met with only temporary success, though it enjoys to-day a reputation almost equal to that of the "Barber." His most celebrated work in sacred music is the "Stabat Mater," which, though written in operatic style and very brilliant in coloring, has retained its place in popular favor, and is to-day as eagerly sought for by artists and the public as it was in his own day. Among his other sacred works is "Moses[253]in Egypt,"--originally written as an oratorio for the San Carlo in Naples, and brought out there in 1818, though subsequently recast and provided with a revised libretto for the Paris Grand Opera in 1827. The "Prayer" from this work has a world-wide popularity. During the latter years of his life Rossini gave up composition entirely,--in part because of the eventual failure of his "William Tell,"--and enjoyed the fruits of his labors at his beautiful villa in Passy. He died Nov. 14, 1868. His sacred works, besides those already mentioned, are a few Italian oratorios, now unknown, three choruses, "Faith, Hope, and Charity," the "Petite Messe Solenelle," a "Tantum Ergo," a "Quoniam," and an "O Salutaris."

Stabat Mater.The great Stabat Maters in the musical world are those of Palestrina, Pergolesi, Haydn, Steffani, Clari, Astorga, Winter, Neukomm, Rossini, and the one recently written by the Bohemian composer, Dvorák. Of all these no one has been so popular as that of Rossini, nor made the world so familiar with the text of the Virgin's Lamentation. After the failure of "William Tell," Rossini abandoned opera-writing, though he had a contract with the Grand Opera at Paris for four more works, and contemplated taking up the subject of Faust. "William Tell" was his[254]last work for the stage; but before his absolute retirement he was to produce a work destined to add to his fame. In 1832 his friend Aguado induced him to compose a "Stabat Mater" for the Spanish minister, Don Valera, which was not intended to be made public. Before its completion he fell ill, and Tadolini wrote the last four numbers. The work was dedicated to Valera, with the understanding that it should always be retained by him. Nine years afterwards Valera died, and Rossini learned that his heirs had sold the work to a Paris publisher for two thousand francs. He at once claimed the copyright and brought an action, in which he was successful. He then composed four new numbers in place of those written by Tadolini, and sold the work complete to the publisher, Troupenas, for six thousand francs. The latter sold the right of performance for a limited time to the Escudiers for eight thousand francs, and they in turn sold it to the Théâtre Italien for twenty thousand. Its first complete performance was at the Salle Ventadour, Jan. 7, 1842, Grisi, Albertazzi, Mario, and Tamburini taking the principal parts.A brief but brilliant orchestral prelude leads to the opening chorus, "Stabat Mater dolorosa," arranged for solos and chorus, and very dramatic in style, especially in its broad, melodious contrasts. It is followed by the tenor solo, "Cujus Animam," which is familiar to every concert-goer,--a clear-cut melody free of embellishment, but very brilliant and even jubilant in character, considering the[255]nature of the text. The next number ("Quis est Homo"), for two sopranos, is equally familiar. It is based upon a lovely melody, first given out by the first soprano, and then by the second, after which the two voices carry the theme through measure after measure of mere vocal embroidery, closing with an extremely brilliant cadenza in genuine operatic style. The fourth number is the bass aria "Pro peccatis," the two themes in which are very earnest and even serious in character, and come nearer to the church style than any other parts of the work. It is followed by a beautifully constructed number ("Eia Mater"), a bass recitative with chorus, which is very strong in its effect. The sixth number is a lovely quartet ("Sancta Mater"), full of variety in its treatment, and closing with full, broad harmony. After a short solo for soprano ("Fac ut Portem"), the climax is reached in the "Inflammatus,"--a brilliant soprano obligato with powerful choral accompaniment. The solo number requires a voice of exceptional range, power, and flexibility; with this condition satisfied, the effect is intensely dramatic, and particularly fascinating by the manner in which the solo is set off against the choral background. A beautiful unaccompanied quartet in broad, plain harmony, "Quando Corpus," leads to the showy fugued "Amen" which closes the work.Unquestionably the "Stabat Mater" is one of the most popular of all the minor sacred compositions; and the secret lies on the surface: it is to be found[256]in the delightful and fascinating melodies, which are strewn so thickly through it, as well as in the graceful bravura, which was so characteristic of Rossini, and which when delivered by accomplished artists is very captivating to a popular audience. As to its sacred form, it is as far from the accepted style of church music as Berlioz's or Verdi's requiems. Indeed, Rossini himself remarked to Hiller that he wrote it in the "mezzo serio" style. In connection with this matter one or two criticisms will be of interest. Rossini's biographer, Sutherland Edwards, says: "The 'Stabat Mater' was composed, as Raphael's Virgins were painted, for the Roman Catholic Church, which at once accepted it, without ever suspecting that Rossini's music was not religious." The remark, however, would be more pertinent were it not for the fact that the Church itself has not always been a good critic of its own music, or a good judge of what its music should be, as Liszt discovered when he went to Rome full of his purposes of reform in the musical service. Heine, in a letter to the "Allgemeine Zeitung" in 1842, replying to certain German criticisms, went so far as to say,--"The true character of Christian art does not reside in thinness and paleness of the body, but in a certain effervescence of the soul, which neither the musician nor the painter can appropriate to himself either by baptism or study; and in this respect I find in the 'Stabat' of Rossini a more truly Christian character than in the 'Paulus' ['St. Paul'] of Felix Mendelssohn[257]Bartholdy,--an oratorio which the adversaries of Rossini point to as a model of Christian style."It will hardly be claimed, however, even by Heine's friends, that this sweeping statement is either just to Mendelssohn or true of Rossini. Perhaps they will also concede that Heine was not a very good judge of Christianity in any of its aspects, musical or otherwise. The veteran Moscheles in one of his letters criticizes the work very pertinently. He says,--"It is, as you may imagine, a model of 'singableness' (if I may say so); but it is not sufficiently church music to my taste. His solitary fugue is clumsy. The criticisms on the work are very various. Some agree with me; but the majority delight in the captivating Italian phrases, which I admire too, but which I cannot think are in the right place."He might have added, "Because they are the phrases of 'Semiramide,' 'Tancredi,' and the 'Barber.'" There is scarcely a number of the "Stabat Mater" which might not be detached from it and reset in one of Rossini's operas without doing violence to whatever of the real religious style it may be supposed, or was intended, to have. The "Stabat Mater" music would be captivatingly beautiful in any setting.

The great Stabat Maters in the musical world are those of Palestrina, Pergolesi, Haydn, Steffani, Clari, Astorga, Winter, Neukomm, Rossini, and the one recently written by the Bohemian composer, Dvorák. Of all these no one has been so popular as that of Rossini, nor made the world so familiar with the text of the Virgin's Lamentation. After the failure of "William Tell," Rossini abandoned opera-writing, though he had a contract with the Grand Opera at Paris for four more works, and contemplated taking up the subject of Faust. "William Tell" was his[254]last work for the stage; but before his absolute retirement he was to produce a work destined to add to his fame. In 1832 his friend Aguado induced him to compose a "Stabat Mater" for the Spanish minister, Don Valera, which was not intended to be made public. Before its completion he fell ill, and Tadolini wrote the last four numbers. The work was dedicated to Valera, with the understanding that it should always be retained by him. Nine years afterwards Valera died, and Rossini learned that his heirs had sold the work to a Paris publisher for two thousand francs. He at once claimed the copyright and brought an action, in which he was successful. He then composed four new numbers in place of those written by Tadolini, and sold the work complete to the publisher, Troupenas, for six thousand francs. The latter sold the right of performance for a limited time to the Escudiers for eight thousand francs, and they in turn sold it to the Théâtre Italien for twenty thousand. Its first complete performance was at the Salle Ventadour, Jan. 7, 1842, Grisi, Albertazzi, Mario, and Tamburini taking the principal parts.

A brief but brilliant orchestral prelude leads to the opening chorus, "Stabat Mater dolorosa," arranged for solos and chorus, and very dramatic in style, especially in its broad, melodious contrasts. It is followed by the tenor solo, "Cujus Animam," which is familiar to every concert-goer,--a clear-cut melody free of embellishment, but very brilliant and even jubilant in character, considering the[255]nature of the text. The next number ("Quis est Homo"), for two sopranos, is equally familiar. It is based upon a lovely melody, first given out by the first soprano, and then by the second, after which the two voices carry the theme through measure after measure of mere vocal embroidery, closing with an extremely brilliant cadenza in genuine operatic style. The fourth number is the bass aria "Pro peccatis," the two themes in which are very earnest and even serious in character, and come nearer to the church style than any other parts of the work. It is followed by a beautifully constructed number ("Eia Mater"), a bass recitative with chorus, which is very strong in its effect. The sixth number is a lovely quartet ("Sancta Mater"), full of variety in its treatment, and closing with full, broad harmony. After a short solo for soprano ("Fac ut Portem"), the climax is reached in the "Inflammatus,"--a brilliant soprano obligato with powerful choral accompaniment. The solo number requires a voice of exceptional range, power, and flexibility; with this condition satisfied, the effect is intensely dramatic, and particularly fascinating by the manner in which the solo is set off against the choral background. A beautiful unaccompanied quartet in broad, plain harmony, "Quando Corpus," leads to the showy fugued "Amen" which closes the work.

Unquestionably the "Stabat Mater" is one of the most popular of all the minor sacred compositions; and the secret lies on the surface: it is to be found[256]in the delightful and fascinating melodies, which are strewn so thickly through it, as well as in the graceful bravura, which was so characteristic of Rossini, and which when delivered by accomplished artists is very captivating to a popular audience. As to its sacred form, it is as far from the accepted style of church music as Berlioz's or Verdi's requiems. Indeed, Rossini himself remarked to Hiller that he wrote it in the "mezzo serio" style. In connection with this matter one or two criticisms will be of interest. Rossini's biographer, Sutherland Edwards, says: "The 'Stabat Mater' was composed, as Raphael's Virgins were painted, for the Roman Catholic Church, which at once accepted it, without ever suspecting that Rossini's music was not religious." The remark, however, would be more pertinent were it not for the fact that the Church itself has not always been a good critic of its own music, or a good judge of what its music should be, as Liszt discovered when he went to Rome full of his purposes of reform in the musical service. Heine, in a letter to the "Allgemeine Zeitung" in 1842, replying to certain German criticisms, went so far as to say,--

"The true character of Christian art does not reside in thinness and paleness of the body, but in a certain effervescence of the soul, which neither the musician nor the painter can appropriate to himself either by baptism or study; and in this respect I find in the 'Stabat' of Rossini a more truly Christian character than in the 'Paulus' ['St. Paul'] of Felix Mendelssohn[257]Bartholdy,--an oratorio which the adversaries of Rossini point to as a model of Christian style."

"The true character of Christian art does not reside in thinness and paleness of the body, but in a certain effervescence of the soul, which neither the musician nor the painter can appropriate to himself either by baptism or study; and in this respect I find in the 'Stabat' of Rossini a more truly Christian character than in the 'Paulus' ['St. Paul'] of Felix Mendelssohn[257]Bartholdy,--an oratorio which the adversaries of Rossini point to as a model of Christian style."

It will hardly be claimed, however, even by Heine's friends, that this sweeping statement is either just to Mendelssohn or true of Rossini. Perhaps they will also concede that Heine was not a very good judge of Christianity in any of its aspects, musical or otherwise. The veteran Moscheles in one of his letters criticizes the work very pertinently. He says,--

"It is, as you may imagine, a model of 'singableness' (if I may say so); but it is not sufficiently church music to my taste. His solitary fugue is clumsy. The criticisms on the work are very various. Some agree with me; but the majority delight in the captivating Italian phrases, which I admire too, but which I cannot think are in the right place."

"It is, as you may imagine, a model of 'singableness' (if I may say so); but it is not sufficiently church music to my taste. His solitary fugue is clumsy. The criticisms on the work are very various. Some agree with me; but the majority delight in the captivating Italian phrases, which I admire too, but which I cannot think are in the right place."

He might have added, "Because they are the phrases of 'Semiramide,' 'Tancredi,' and the 'Barber.'" There is scarcely a number of the "Stabat Mater" which might not be detached from it and reset in one of Rossini's operas without doing violence to whatever of the real religious style it may be supposed, or was intended, to have. The "Stabat Mater" music would be captivatingly beautiful in any setting.

[258]RUBINSTEIN.Anton Gregor Rubinstein was born, Nov. 30, 1829, at the village of Wechwotynetz, in Russia. His parents, who were in moderate circumstances, moved to Moscow during his infancy, and in that city he received his first musical instruction. His mother gave him lessons at the age of four, with the result that by the time he was six she was unable to teach him anything more. He then studied the piano with Alexander Villoing, a pupil of John Field. His first composition appeared in his twelfth year, and soon his songs and two and four hand piano-pieces began to attract the attention of musicians. In 1840 Villoing took him to Paris and placed him in the Conservatory, where he attracted the attention of Liszt, Chopin, and Thalberg. He remained in that city eighteen months, devoting himself to unremitting study, and then made some professional tours, in which he met with extraordinary success, particularly in England. From that country he went to Holland and Sweden, everywhere meeting with an enthusiastic reception.[259]In 1844 his parents removed to Berlin, and he was placed under Dehn, the famous contrapuntist, to study composition, his brother Nicholas being a companion in his work. The father dying in 1846, the mother and Nicholas returned to Russia, leaving Anton alone. During the next two years he taught music in Pressburg and Vienna, and in the latter part of 1848 went back to Russia. About this time he received an honorary musical appointment from the Grand-Duchess Hélène. For eight years he studied and wrote in St. Petersburg, and at the end of that time had accumulated a mass of manuscripts destined to make his name famous all over Europe, while his reputation as a skilful pianist was already world-wide. He visited England again in 1857, and the next year returned home and settled in St. Petersburg, about which time he was made Imperial Concert Director, with a life-pension. At this period in his career he devoted himself to the cause of music in Russia. His first great work was the foundation of the Conservatory in the above city in 1862, of which he remained principal until 1867. He also founded the Russian Musical Society in 1861, and in 1869 was decorated by the Czar. In 1870 he directed the Philharmonic and Choral Societies of Vienna, and shortly afterwards made another tour, during which, in 1872, he came to this country with the eminent violinist Wieniawsky, as will be well remembered. His visit here was marked by a succession of ovations. No other pianist ever achieved such a wonderful success, not only among[260]musicians, but among the people of all classes. Musicians were astounded at his remarkable knowledge, while musical and unmusical people alike were carried off their feet by the whirlwind-style of his playing. It was full of grace, nobility, breadth, and dignity; but it combined with these qualities a fire, an intensity, and a passion which sometimes invested the piano with orchestral effects, and again transformed it into an instrument that wept, laughed, sang, and danced. His power was irresistible and electric. As a composer he ranks very high. His greatest works are the Ocean Symphony, Dramatic Symphony, and a character sketch for grand orchestra called "Ivan the Terrible;" his operas, "Children of the Heath," "Feramors," "Nero," "The Maccabees," "Dimitri Donskoi," and the "Demon;" the oratorios "Paradise Lost" and "Tower of Babel;" and a long and splendid catalogue of chamber, salon, and concert music, besides some beautiful songs which are great favorites in the concert-room.

Anton Gregor Rubinstein was born, Nov. 30, 1829, at the village of Wechwotynetz, in Russia. His parents, who were in moderate circumstances, moved to Moscow during his infancy, and in that city he received his first musical instruction. His mother gave him lessons at the age of four, with the result that by the time he was six she was unable to teach him anything more. He then studied the piano with Alexander Villoing, a pupil of John Field. His first composition appeared in his twelfth year, and soon his songs and two and four hand piano-pieces began to attract the attention of musicians. In 1840 Villoing took him to Paris and placed him in the Conservatory, where he attracted the attention of Liszt, Chopin, and Thalberg. He remained in that city eighteen months, devoting himself to unremitting study, and then made some professional tours, in which he met with extraordinary success, particularly in England. From that country he went to Holland and Sweden, everywhere meeting with an enthusiastic reception.[259]In 1844 his parents removed to Berlin, and he was placed under Dehn, the famous contrapuntist, to study composition, his brother Nicholas being a companion in his work. The father dying in 1846, the mother and Nicholas returned to Russia, leaving Anton alone. During the next two years he taught music in Pressburg and Vienna, and in the latter part of 1848 went back to Russia. About this time he received an honorary musical appointment from the Grand-Duchess Hélène. For eight years he studied and wrote in St. Petersburg, and at the end of that time had accumulated a mass of manuscripts destined to make his name famous all over Europe, while his reputation as a skilful pianist was already world-wide. He visited England again in 1857, and the next year returned home and settled in St. Petersburg, about which time he was made Imperial Concert Director, with a life-pension. At this period in his career he devoted himself to the cause of music in Russia. His first great work was the foundation of the Conservatory in the above city in 1862, of which he remained principal until 1867. He also founded the Russian Musical Society in 1861, and in 1869 was decorated by the Czar. In 1870 he directed the Philharmonic and Choral Societies of Vienna, and shortly afterwards made another tour, during which, in 1872, he came to this country with the eminent violinist Wieniawsky, as will be well remembered. His visit here was marked by a succession of ovations. No other pianist ever achieved such a wonderful success, not only among[260]musicians, but among the people of all classes. Musicians were astounded at his remarkable knowledge, while musical and unmusical people alike were carried off their feet by the whirlwind-style of his playing. It was full of grace, nobility, breadth, and dignity; but it combined with these qualities a fire, an intensity, and a passion which sometimes invested the piano with orchestral effects, and again transformed it into an instrument that wept, laughed, sang, and danced. His power was irresistible and electric. As a composer he ranks very high. His greatest works are the Ocean Symphony, Dramatic Symphony, and a character sketch for grand orchestra called "Ivan the Terrible;" his operas, "Children of the Heath," "Feramors," "Nero," "The Maccabees," "Dimitri Donskoi," and the "Demon;" the oratorios "Paradise Lost" and "Tower of Babel;" and a long and splendid catalogue of chamber, salon, and concert music, besides some beautiful songs which are great favorites in the concert-room.

The Tower of Babel."The Tower of Babel," a sacred opera, as Rubinstein entitles it, was written in 1870, the text, which is somewhat of a travesty on sacred history, by Julius Rodenberg. An English critic very pertinently says: "One item alone in all the multitude of details crowded by Herr Rodenberg into his[261]canvas has any foundation in fact. He adopts the theory that there really was a tower of Babel, and all the rest he founds on conjecture." In point of fact, the anachronisms are numerous enough to make the text almost a burlesque. Nimrod, the mighty hunter, is made the chief builder of the tower, which is supposed to be in process of erection as an insult to the Deity. Abraham appears upon the scene (many years before he was born), and rebukes Nimrod for his presumption; whereupon the hunter-king orders "the shepherd," as he is called, to be thrown into a fiery furnace, after the manner of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. The angels watch over the patriarch, and he comes out of the fire unharmed. Some of the people standing by ascribe the miracle to Baal, some to Dagon, some to Ashtaroth, and a few to Jehovah, and at last get into a quarrel with each other. Nimrod interposes his authority, and orders them to their work on the tower again. Soon the heavens cloud over, and a storm is seen approaching. Abraham prophesies destruction, and Nimrod orders him to be seized and hurled from the summit of the tower; but before his commands can be executed, a thunderbolt strikes it and crumbles it into a heap of shapeless stones. While Abraham exults over the destruction, the dispersion of the three races, the Shemites, Hamites, and Japthides, occurs. Nimrod laments over the result of his folly, and at last acknowledges the authority of the Divine Power, and thus the story ends.[262]Thedramatis personæare Nimrod (bass), Abraham (tenor), Master Workman (baritone), four Angels (boys' voices), the choruses by Nimrod's followers, the People, Angels, and Demons. The overture is a confused, formless number, indicating the darkness. In the beginning there is no clear musical idea; but at last the subject assumes definite form as the dawn breaks and the Master Workman announces the sunrise and calls the People to their work, in the recitative, "Awake! ye Workers, awake!" The summons is followed by the chorus, "To work," in which the vocal part is noisy, broken, and somewhat discordant, representing the hurry and bustle of a crowd of working-men,--with which, however, the orchestra and organ build up a powerful theme. The song of the Master Workman is also interwoven, and the chorus is finally developed with great vigor and splendid dramatic effect. Nimrod now appears, and in a triumphant outburst ("Stately rises our Work on high") contemplates the monument to his greatness now approaching completion. Abraham rebukes him ("How, Mortal, canst thou reach His Presence?"). The scene at this point is full of dramatic vigor. Nimrod hurls imprecations at Abraham, followed by strongly contrasting choruses of the angry People and protecting Angels, which lead up to the mixed chorus of the People, indicating the confusion of tongues as they severally ascribe the escape of Abraham from the furnace-fire to Baal, Dagon, Ashtaroth, and Jehovah, and closing[263]with tumultuous dissension, which is quelled by Nimrod. The effect of the Angels' voices in the hurlyburly is exceedingly beautiful, and the accompaniments, particularly those of the fire-scene, are very vivid. Nimrod's order to resume work on the tower is followed by the angelic strain, "Come on! let us down to Earth now hasten." Once more the Builders break out in their barbaric chorus, "To work," followed by the portentous outburst of the People, "How the Face of Heaven is o'ershadowed!" In a vigorous solo Abraham replies, "No! 'tis not Vapor nor Storm-clouds that gather." There is a final controversy between Abraham and Nimrod, and as the latter orders the patriarch to be thrown from the tower, the storm breaks, and amid the shrieks of the chorus ("Horror! horror") and the tremendous clangor of organ and orchestra on the theme already developed in the opening, the tower is destroyed.The tumultuous scene is followed by Nimrod's lament ("The Tower whose lofty Height was like my State"), a bass aria of great power, and reaching a splendid climax. Abraham, in an exultant strain ("The Lord is strong in Might"), proclaims God's purpose to scatter the people. The most picturesque scene in the work now occurs,--the dispersal of the Shemites, Hamites, and Japthides, typified by orchestral marches and choruses of a barbaric cast. The stage directions at this point indicate that the three choruses "must be sung behind the scenes, while dissolving views present[264]to the audience the emigration of the three great human races,"--an effect which is also made in the last act of Goldmark's "Queen of Sheba." The first chorus, that of the Shemites, which is sung in unison, is taken from some of the ancient music in the ritual of the Jewish Synagogue, that used on the eve of the Day of Atonement. The other two choruses are also Oriental in color and rhythm, and give a very striking effect to this part of the work. The chorus of Angels ("Thus by Almighty Power of God") proclaims the completion of the work, and two long solos by Abraham and Nimrod lead up to the final choruses of the Angels, People, and Demons, worked up in very powerful style, and in the finale uniting the themes which originally introduced the chorus of the People and the Angels, and the subject of the darkness in the overture. The tableau is thus described in the stage directions: "The stage is divided into three horizontal compartments. In the middle is the earth; in the upper is the throne of the Almighty, surrounded by all the heavenly powers; in the lower, hell, Satan seated on his throne, surrounded by all the infernal deities."

"The Tower of Babel," a sacred opera, as Rubinstein entitles it, was written in 1870, the text, which is somewhat of a travesty on sacred history, by Julius Rodenberg. An English critic very pertinently says: "One item alone in all the multitude of details crowded by Herr Rodenberg into his[261]canvas has any foundation in fact. He adopts the theory that there really was a tower of Babel, and all the rest he founds on conjecture." In point of fact, the anachronisms are numerous enough to make the text almost a burlesque. Nimrod, the mighty hunter, is made the chief builder of the tower, which is supposed to be in process of erection as an insult to the Deity. Abraham appears upon the scene (many years before he was born), and rebukes Nimrod for his presumption; whereupon the hunter-king orders "the shepherd," as he is called, to be thrown into a fiery furnace, after the manner of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego. The angels watch over the patriarch, and he comes out of the fire unharmed. Some of the people standing by ascribe the miracle to Baal, some to Dagon, some to Ashtaroth, and a few to Jehovah, and at last get into a quarrel with each other. Nimrod interposes his authority, and orders them to their work on the tower again. Soon the heavens cloud over, and a storm is seen approaching. Abraham prophesies destruction, and Nimrod orders him to be seized and hurled from the summit of the tower; but before his commands can be executed, a thunderbolt strikes it and crumbles it into a heap of shapeless stones. While Abraham exults over the destruction, the dispersion of the three races, the Shemites, Hamites, and Japthides, occurs. Nimrod laments over the result of his folly, and at last acknowledges the authority of the Divine Power, and thus the story ends.

Thedramatis personæare Nimrod (bass), Abraham (tenor), Master Workman (baritone), four Angels (boys' voices), the choruses by Nimrod's followers, the People, Angels, and Demons. The overture is a confused, formless number, indicating the darkness. In the beginning there is no clear musical idea; but at last the subject assumes definite form as the dawn breaks and the Master Workman announces the sunrise and calls the People to their work, in the recitative, "Awake! ye Workers, awake!" The summons is followed by the chorus, "To work," in which the vocal part is noisy, broken, and somewhat discordant, representing the hurry and bustle of a crowd of working-men,--with which, however, the orchestra and organ build up a powerful theme. The song of the Master Workman is also interwoven, and the chorus is finally developed with great vigor and splendid dramatic effect. Nimrod now appears, and in a triumphant outburst ("Stately rises our Work on high") contemplates the monument to his greatness now approaching completion. Abraham rebukes him ("How, Mortal, canst thou reach His Presence?"). The scene at this point is full of dramatic vigor. Nimrod hurls imprecations at Abraham, followed by strongly contrasting choruses of the angry People and protecting Angels, which lead up to the mixed chorus of the People, indicating the confusion of tongues as they severally ascribe the escape of Abraham from the furnace-fire to Baal, Dagon, Ashtaroth, and Jehovah, and closing[263]with tumultuous dissension, which is quelled by Nimrod. The effect of the Angels' voices in the hurlyburly is exceedingly beautiful, and the accompaniments, particularly those of the fire-scene, are very vivid. Nimrod's order to resume work on the tower is followed by the angelic strain, "Come on! let us down to Earth now hasten." Once more the Builders break out in their barbaric chorus, "To work," followed by the portentous outburst of the People, "How the Face of Heaven is o'ershadowed!" In a vigorous solo Abraham replies, "No! 'tis not Vapor nor Storm-clouds that gather." There is a final controversy between Abraham and Nimrod, and as the latter orders the patriarch to be thrown from the tower, the storm breaks, and amid the shrieks of the chorus ("Horror! horror") and the tremendous clangor of organ and orchestra on the theme already developed in the opening, the tower is destroyed.

The tumultuous scene is followed by Nimrod's lament ("The Tower whose lofty Height was like my State"), a bass aria of great power, and reaching a splendid climax. Abraham, in an exultant strain ("The Lord is strong in Might"), proclaims God's purpose to scatter the people. The most picturesque scene in the work now occurs,--the dispersal of the Shemites, Hamites, and Japthides, typified by orchestral marches and choruses of a barbaric cast. The stage directions at this point indicate that the three choruses "must be sung behind the scenes, while dissolving views present[264]to the audience the emigration of the three great human races,"--an effect which is also made in the last act of Goldmark's "Queen of Sheba." The first chorus, that of the Shemites, which is sung in unison, is taken from some of the ancient music in the ritual of the Jewish Synagogue, that used on the eve of the Day of Atonement. The other two choruses are also Oriental in color and rhythm, and give a very striking effect to this part of the work. The chorus of Angels ("Thus by Almighty Power of God") proclaims the completion of the work, and two long solos by Abraham and Nimrod lead up to the final choruses of the Angels, People, and Demons, worked up in very powerful style, and in the finale uniting the themes which originally introduced the chorus of the People and the Angels, and the subject of the darkness in the overture. The tableau is thus described in the stage directions: "The stage is divided into three horizontal compartments. In the middle is the earth; in the upper is the throne of the Almighty, surrounded by all the heavenly powers; in the lower, hell, Satan seated on his throne, surrounded by all the infernal deities."

Paradise Lost.The oratorio "Paradise Lost" was first produced in Vienna in 1859 by the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde, a choral organization conducted by Rubinstein during his stay in that city. Like "The Tower[265]of Babel," it is entitled by the composer "a sacred opera," though it is in genuine oratorio form, and usually classed as such. The text is a very free transcription from Milton. The work is divided into three parts; but as the second is usually the only part given by oratorio societies, our sketch will be principally confined to that. The first part mainly concerns the defeat of Satan's forces by the legions of Heaven, and is remarkable for its vigorous instrumental treatment.The second part is devoted to the creation, and is composed principally of choruses introduced by a few bars of recitative, invariably for the tenor, who acts the part of narrator. The first seven of these describe the creation of the earth. After a characteristic introduction, the tenor declares "Chaos, be ended!" whereupon the Angels sing a glowing tribute to light ("Upspringing, the darkened Air broke forth into radiant Brightness"). Again the tenor and chorus in a brief number describe the firmament. The third chorus ("Fierce raged the Billows") pictures the division of land and water with great vigor, accompanied by imitative instrumentation which indicates Rubinstein's skill as a water-painter quite as clearly as his great Ocean Symphony. In the fourth and fifth choruses the music vividly tells the story of the creation of the trees and plants and the appearance of the stars in the firmament. The sixth ("Gently beaming, softly streaming"), in which the Angels rejoice in the soft radiance of the moon, is short, but exceedingly tender and[266]beautiful. In the seventh ("All around rose the Sound of the Strife of Life"), we have a description of the awakening of life characterized by extraordinary descriptive power. This group of choruses, each one thoroughly fresh, original, and picturesque in its description, brings us up to the creation of man, which is the finest portion of the whole work. It begins with a long tenor recitative, "In all her Majesty shines on high the Heaven," reaching a fine crescendo at the close ("And lo! it was Man"). The Angels reply with their heavenly greeting, "Hail to Thee, O Man." A short dialogue follows between Adam and the Narrator, and the Angels renew their greeting, this time to Eve. This leads up to a lovely duet between Adam and Eve ("Teach us then to come before Thee"), which is very gracefully constructed, and tenderly melodious in character. The final number is a chorus of the Angels ("Clear resounded the Trumpets of Heaven"), beginning in broad, flowing, jubilant harmony, then developing into a fugue on the words "Praise the Almighty One," built up on a subject full of exultation and grandeur, and closing with a Hallelujah delivered with mighty outbursts of power.The third part is devoted to the fall of Adam and Eve and their banishment from Eden, closing with the announcement of the ultimate salvation of mankind. Both the Almighty and Satan appear in this part, the former's music being sung by the tenor voice; though, curiously enough, the latter's music is much the more attractive.

The oratorio "Paradise Lost" was first produced in Vienna in 1859 by the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde, a choral organization conducted by Rubinstein during his stay in that city. Like "The Tower[265]of Babel," it is entitled by the composer "a sacred opera," though it is in genuine oratorio form, and usually classed as such. The text is a very free transcription from Milton. The work is divided into three parts; but as the second is usually the only part given by oratorio societies, our sketch will be principally confined to that. The first part mainly concerns the defeat of Satan's forces by the legions of Heaven, and is remarkable for its vigorous instrumental treatment.

The second part is devoted to the creation, and is composed principally of choruses introduced by a few bars of recitative, invariably for the tenor, who acts the part of narrator. The first seven of these describe the creation of the earth. After a characteristic introduction, the tenor declares "Chaos, be ended!" whereupon the Angels sing a glowing tribute to light ("Upspringing, the darkened Air broke forth into radiant Brightness"). Again the tenor and chorus in a brief number describe the firmament. The third chorus ("Fierce raged the Billows") pictures the division of land and water with great vigor, accompanied by imitative instrumentation which indicates Rubinstein's skill as a water-painter quite as clearly as his great Ocean Symphony. In the fourth and fifth choruses the music vividly tells the story of the creation of the trees and plants and the appearance of the stars in the firmament. The sixth ("Gently beaming, softly streaming"), in which the Angels rejoice in the soft radiance of the moon, is short, but exceedingly tender and[266]beautiful. In the seventh ("All around rose the Sound of the Strife of Life"), we have a description of the awakening of life characterized by extraordinary descriptive power. This group of choruses, each one thoroughly fresh, original, and picturesque in its description, brings us up to the creation of man, which is the finest portion of the whole work. It begins with a long tenor recitative, "In all her Majesty shines on high the Heaven," reaching a fine crescendo at the close ("And lo! it was Man"). The Angels reply with their heavenly greeting, "Hail to Thee, O Man." A short dialogue follows between Adam and the Narrator, and the Angels renew their greeting, this time to Eve. This leads up to a lovely duet between Adam and Eve ("Teach us then to come before Thee"), which is very gracefully constructed, and tenderly melodious in character. The final number is a chorus of the Angels ("Clear resounded the Trumpets of Heaven"), beginning in broad, flowing, jubilant harmony, then developing into a fugue on the words "Praise the Almighty One," built up on a subject full of exultation and grandeur, and closing with a Hallelujah delivered with mighty outbursts of power.

The third part is devoted to the fall of Adam and Eve and their banishment from Eden, closing with the announcement of the ultimate salvation of mankind. Both the Almighty and Satan appear in this part, the former's music being sung by the tenor voice; though, curiously enough, the latter's music is much the more attractive.

[267]SAINT-SAËNS.Charles Camille Saint-Saëns, famous as composer, pianist, and critic, was born in Paris, Oct. 9, 1835. He began his musical studies at a very early age. In his seventh year he took piano lessons of Stamaty and studied harmony, and in his twelfth was a student at the Conservatory, where he took two organ prizes; though he failed on two occasions in his competition for the Prix de Rome. His first symphony appeared in 1851, and was performed with success. In 1853 he was appointed organist of the Church of St. Merri, and five years later secured a like position at the Madeleine, which he filled with high honor for nineteen years, finally resigning in favor of Theodore Dubois. In 1867 he was awarded a prize for his cantata "Les Noces de Prométhée" by the Paris International Exhibition, and the next year he was received with distinguished honor at the Artists' Meeting in Weimar, both as pianist and composer. His operatic career began about this time. "La Princesse jeune" appeared in 1872, and "Le Timbre[268]d'Argent" in 1877; but neither was successful. His next work was the sacred drama "Samson et Dalila," produced at Weimar in the latter part of 1877; followed by "Étienne Marcel" at Lyons in 1879. In addition to his operas he has written several cantatas, among them "The Deluge" and "La Lyre et la Harpe," composed for the Birmingham Festival of 1879; three symphonies; four symphonic poems, "La Rouet d'Omphale," "Phaéthon," "Danse Macabre," and "La Jeunesse d'Hercule;" a large number of concerted pieces with orchestra, songs and romances, as well as chamber-music and compositions for piano and organ. His sacred music includes the following works: mass for four voices, Requiem Mass, "Oratorio de Noël," "Tantum Ergo," the Nineteenth Psalm for solos, chorus, and orchestra, and many minor pieces for choir use. He has been a prolific writer, but his fame thus far rests upon his instrumental music. He has travelled much as a virtuoso in Russia, Spain, Germany, and England, conducting his own compositions, and also giving piano and organ recitals, in which he has met with great success. He also ranks high as a musical critic, and many of his contributions to the Parisian press have been collected, with a view to publication in a separate volume. Of late he has obtained considerable notoriety by his controversial articles on the Wagner question,--in which, however, national prejudice sometimes has been more apparent than cosmopolitan judgment. As a composer, he is unquestionably more learned than are[269]any of his native contemporaries, and he has made a closer study of Bach than even Gounod has. His descriptive powers are very strong, as is evidenced by the symphonic poems which Mr. Thomas has introduced into this country. They even go to the verge of the sensational; but, on the other hand, the study of his "Oratorio de Noël" and of his transcriptions from Bach will show that he is a master of counterpoint and thematic treatment.

Charles Camille Saint-Saëns, famous as composer, pianist, and critic, was born in Paris, Oct. 9, 1835. He began his musical studies at a very early age. In his seventh year he took piano lessons of Stamaty and studied harmony, and in his twelfth was a student at the Conservatory, where he took two organ prizes; though he failed on two occasions in his competition for the Prix de Rome. His first symphony appeared in 1851, and was performed with success. In 1853 he was appointed organist of the Church of St. Merri, and five years later secured a like position at the Madeleine, which he filled with high honor for nineteen years, finally resigning in favor of Theodore Dubois. In 1867 he was awarded a prize for his cantata "Les Noces de Prométhée" by the Paris International Exhibition, and the next year he was received with distinguished honor at the Artists' Meeting in Weimar, both as pianist and composer. His operatic career began about this time. "La Princesse jeune" appeared in 1872, and "Le Timbre[268]d'Argent" in 1877; but neither was successful. His next work was the sacred drama "Samson et Dalila," produced at Weimar in the latter part of 1877; followed by "Étienne Marcel" at Lyons in 1879. In addition to his operas he has written several cantatas, among them "The Deluge" and "La Lyre et la Harpe," composed for the Birmingham Festival of 1879; three symphonies; four symphonic poems, "La Rouet d'Omphale," "Phaéthon," "Danse Macabre," and "La Jeunesse d'Hercule;" a large number of concerted pieces with orchestra, songs and romances, as well as chamber-music and compositions for piano and organ. His sacred music includes the following works: mass for four voices, Requiem Mass, "Oratorio de Noël," "Tantum Ergo," the Nineteenth Psalm for solos, chorus, and orchestra, and many minor pieces for choir use. He has been a prolific writer, but his fame thus far rests upon his instrumental music. He has travelled much as a virtuoso in Russia, Spain, Germany, and England, conducting his own compositions, and also giving piano and organ recitals, in which he has met with great success. He also ranks high as a musical critic, and many of his contributions to the Parisian press have been collected, with a view to publication in a separate volume. Of late he has obtained considerable notoriety by his controversial articles on the Wagner question,--in which, however, national prejudice sometimes has been more apparent than cosmopolitan judgment. As a composer, he is unquestionably more learned than are[269]any of his native contemporaries, and he has made a closer study of Bach than even Gounod has. His descriptive powers are very strong, as is evidenced by the symphonic poems which Mr. Thomas has introduced into this country. They even go to the verge of the sensational; but, on the other hand, the study of his "Oratorio de Noël" and of his transcriptions from Bach will show that he is a master of counterpoint and thematic treatment.

Christmas Oratorio."Noël," Saint-Saëns' Christmas oratorio, in dimensions hardly exceeds the limits of a cantata, but musically is constructed in oratorio style. Its subject is the nativity, combined with ascriptions of praise and a final exultant hallelujah. The work is short, but very effective, and is written for five solo voices and chorus, with accompaniment of strings and organ, and the harp in one number. It opens with a pastoral symphony of a very melodious character. The first number is the recitative, "And there were Shepherds," including the angelic message and the appearance of the heavenly hosts, the subject being divided among the tenor, alto, soprano, and baritone, and leading up to the first chorus ("Glory now unto God in the highest"), which is quite short, but beautifully written. The next number is an aria for mezzo-soprano ("Firm in Faith"), which is very simple, but graceful in its melody. The fourth number is a tenor solo and[270]chorus ("God of all"), written in the church style, followed by a soprano and baritone duet ("Blessed, ever blessed"), which is very elaborate in its construction, and highly colored. The next number is the chorus, "Wherefore are the Nations raging," which is intensely dramatic in its effect, especially for the manner in which the voice-parts are set off against the agitated accompaniment. The contrasts also are very striking, particularly that between the tumultuous opening of the chorus and its tranquil close in full harmony on the words, "As it was in the Beginning." The next number is a lovely trio for tenor, soprano, and baritone ("Thou art from first to last"), with harp accompaniment throughout, which gives to it an extremely graceful and elegant effect. It is followed by a quartet ("Alleluia"), in which the theme is introduced by the alto. The Alleluia is then taken up by all four parts (soprano, mezzo-soprano, alto, and baritone), in full, rich harmony, the alto closing the number alone in a very effective adagio passage. The next number is a quintet and chorus, the prelude to which is a repetition of parts of the opening pastoral. It is also utilized in the voice parts. The number is very elaborate in its construction and development, and is followed by a short final chorus ("Raise now your Song on high") in simple church style. Short as the work is, it is very beautiful, and full not only of genuine service music, but also of graceful conceits and delicate fancies, both in the voice parts and the accompaniments.

"Noël," Saint-Saëns' Christmas oratorio, in dimensions hardly exceeds the limits of a cantata, but musically is constructed in oratorio style. Its subject is the nativity, combined with ascriptions of praise and a final exultant hallelujah. The work is short, but very effective, and is written for five solo voices and chorus, with accompaniment of strings and organ, and the harp in one number. It opens with a pastoral symphony of a very melodious character. The first number is the recitative, "And there were Shepherds," including the angelic message and the appearance of the heavenly hosts, the subject being divided among the tenor, alto, soprano, and baritone, and leading up to the first chorus ("Glory now unto God in the highest"), which is quite short, but beautifully written. The next number is an aria for mezzo-soprano ("Firm in Faith"), which is very simple, but graceful in its melody. The fourth number is a tenor solo and[270]chorus ("God of all"), written in the church style, followed by a soprano and baritone duet ("Blessed, ever blessed"), which is very elaborate in its construction, and highly colored. The next number is the chorus, "Wherefore are the Nations raging," which is intensely dramatic in its effect, especially for the manner in which the voice-parts are set off against the agitated accompaniment. The contrasts also are very striking, particularly that between the tumultuous opening of the chorus and its tranquil close in full harmony on the words, "As it was in the Beginning." The next number is a lovely trio for tenor, soprano, and baritone ("Thou art from first to last"), with harp accompaniment throughout, which gives to it an extremely graceful and elegant effect. It is followed by a quartet ("Alleluia"), in which the theme is introduced by the alto. The Alleluia is then taken up by all four parts (soprano, mezzo-soprano, alto, and baritone), in full, rich harmony, the alto closing the number alone in a very effective adagio passage. The next number is a quintet and chorus, the prelude to which is a repetition of parts of the opening pastoral. It is also utilized in the voice parts. The number is very elaborate in its construction and development, and is followed by a short final chorus ("Raise now your Song on high") in simple church style. Short as the work is, it is very beautiful, and full not only of genuine service music, but also of graceful conceits and delicate fancies, both in the voice parts and the accompaniments.

[271]SCHUMANN.Robert Schumann, one of the greatest of musicians, and one who, had his life been spared, would probably have stood at the head of all composers since Beethoven and Schubert, was the son of a bookseller, and was born at Zwickau, in Saxony, June 8, 1810. In his earliest youth he was recognized as a child of genius. His first teacher in music was Baccalaureus Kuntzsch, who gave him piano instructions. It was while taking these lessons that he attended a concert given by Moscheles. The playing of the great teacher aroused his musical ambition, and first inspired him to become a musician. His father recognized his talent very early, but his mother was opposed to his ambition. In deference to her wishes, he began the study of law,--with the full determination, however, to make music his vocation; and in this he ultimately succeeded, through the influence of Wieck, whose daughter, Clara, he subsequently married, and who is still a skilful pianist and famous teacher. He studied the[272]piano with Wieck until his right hand was injured. In 1830, in which year his artistic career really opened, he began the theoretical study of music in its groundwork, first with Director Kupsch in Leipsic, and later with Heinrich Dorn, and at the same time entered upon the work of composition. His opus No. 1 was the so-called "Abegg Variations," dedicated to a young lady, Meta Abegg, whom he had met at a ball in Mannheim. In the same year, 1830, he composed a toccata. In 1831 his famous "Papillons" and other piano works appeared. Schumann was not only a musician, but an able critic and graceful writer; and in 1834, with Schunke, Knorr, and Wieck, he founded the "Neue Zeitschrift für Musik," which had an important influence upon musical progress in Germany, and in which the great promise of such musicians as Chopin and Brahms was first recognized. He married Clara Wieck in 1840, after much opposition from her father; and in this year appeared some of his best songs, including the three famous cycluses, "Liederkreis," "Woman's Life and Love," and "Poet's Love," which now have a world-wide fame. In the following year larger works came from his pen, among them his B major symphony, overture, scherzo, and finale in E major, and the symphony in D minor. During this period in his career he also made many artistic journeys with his wife, which largely increased the reputation of each. In 1843 he completed his great "romantic oratorio," "Paradise and the Peri," set to Moore's text, and[273]many favorite songs and piano compositions, among them the "Phantasiestücke" and "Kinderscenen," and his elegant piano quintet in E flat. In 1844, in company with his wife, he visited St. Petersburg and Moscow, and their reception was a royal one. The same year he abandoned his "Zeitschrift," in which "Florestan," "Master Raro," "Eusebius," and the other pseudonyms had become familiar all over Germany, and took the post of director in Düsseldorf, in the place of Ferdinand Hiller. During the last few years of his life he was the victim of profound melancholy, owing to an affection of the brain, and he even attempted suicide by throwing himself into the Rhine. He was then removed to an asylum at Endenich, where he died July 20, 1856. The two men who exercised most influence upon Schumann were Jean Paul and Franz Schubert. He was deeply pervaded with the romance of the one and the emotional feeling of the other. His work is characterized by genial humor, a rich and warm imagination, wonderfully beautiful instrumentation, especially in his accompaniments, the loftiest form of expression, and a rigid adherence to the canons of art.

Robert Schumann, one of the greatest of musicians, and one who, had his life been spared, would probably have stood at the head of all composers since Beethoven and Schubert, was the son of a bookseller, and was born at Zwickau, in Saxony, June 8, 1810. In his earliest youth he was recognized as a child of genius. His first teacher in music was Baccalaureus Kuntzsch, who gave him piano instructions. It was while taking these lessons that he attended a concert given by Moscheles. The playing of the great teacher aroused his musical ambition, and first inspired him to become a musician. His father recognized his talent very early, but his mother was opposed to his ambition. In deference to her wishes, he began the study of law,--with the full determination, however, to make music his vocation; and in this he ultimately succeeded, through the influence of Wieck, whose daughter, Clara, he subsequently married, and who is still a skilful pianist and famous teacher. He studied the[272]piano with Wieck until his right hand was injured. In 1830, in which year his artistic career really opened, he began the theoretical study of music in its groundwork, first with Director Kupsch in Leipsic, and later with Heinrich Dorn, and at the same time entered upon the work of composition. His opus No. 1 was the so-called "Abegg Variations," dedicated to a young lady, Meta Abegg, whom he had met at a ball in Mannheim. In the same year, 1830, he composed a toccata. In 1831 his famous "Papillons" and other piano works appeared. Schumann was not only a musician, but an able critic and graceful writer; and in 1834, with Schunke, Knorr, and Wieck, he founded the "Neue Zeitschrift für Musik," which had an important influence upon musical progress in Germany, and in which the great promise of such musicians as Chopin and Brahms was first recognized. He married Clara Wieck in 1840, after much opposition from her father; and in this year appeared some of his best songs, including the three famous cycluses, "Liederkreis," "Woman's Life and Love," and "Poet's Love," which now have a world-wide fame. In the following year larger works came from his pen, among them his B major symphony, overture, scherzo, and finale in E major, and the symphony in D minor. During this period in his career he also made many artistic journeys with his wife, which largely increased the reputation of each. In 1843 he completed his great "romantic oratorio," "Paradise and the Peri," set to Moore's text, and[273]many favorite songs and piano compositions, among them the "Phantasiestücke" and "Kinderscenen," and his elegant piano quintet in E flat. In 1844, in company with his wife, he visited St. Petersburg and Moscow, and their reception was a royal one. The same year he abandoned his "Zeitschrift," in which "Florestan," "Master Raro," "Eusebius," and the other pseudonyms had become familiar all over Germany, and took the post of director in Düsseldorf, in the place of Ferdinand Hiller. During the last few years of his life he was the victim of profound melancholy, owing to an affection of the brain, and he even attempted suicide by throwing himself into the Rhine. He was then removed to an asylum at Endenich, where he died July 20, 1856. The two men who exercised most influence upon Schumann were Jean Paul and Franz Schubert. He was deeply pervaded with the romance of the one and the emotional feeling of the other. His work is characterized by genial humor, a rich and warm imagination, wonderfully beautiful instrumentation, especially in his accompaniments, the loftiest form of expression, and a rigid adherence to the canons of art.

Paradise and the Peri.Schumann's secular oratorio, "Paradise and the Peri," was written in 1843, and first performed at the Gewandhaus, Leipsic, December 4th of that[274]year, under the composer's own direction. Its first performance in England was given June 23, 1856, with Madame Jenny Lind-Goldschmidt in the part of the Peri, Sterndale Bennett conducting. The text is taken from the second poem in Moore's "Lalla Rookh," and was suggested to Schumann by his friend Emil Flechsig, who had translated the poem. This was in 1841; but he did not set it to music until two years later. The text required many changes, and these he made himself. The principal additions are a chorus for "The Spirits of the Nile," the chorus of Houris, the Peri's solo, "Banished," the quartet, "Peri, 'tis true," the solo, "Sunken was the Golden Orb," and the final chorus. It has also been suggested that he availed himself of still another translation, that of Ollker's, as many of the changes agree with his text.It is difficult to define the exact form of the work, though it is nearly always classed as a secular oratorio, principally because of the introduction of the narrator, after the style of the passion-music. In other respects it resembles the cantata. Reissmann, in his Life of Schumann, says on this point,--"It seems right that he should have retained the most primitive form of the oratorio, that of the passion-music. The poem has no genuinely dramatic course; there was not the smallest intrinsic or extrinsic reason to dramatize it more fully. Even with treatment such as that of the 'Walpurgisnacht,' it must have lost much of its picturesque development[275]The only proper way to treat the subject, therefore, was to retain the original epic form, and to introduce a narrator in the style of antique oratorio, who should relate the facts in a few simple words up to the point where they seem to demand a more dramatic setting."Von Wasielewski also discusses the same point:"The narrator is evidently copied from the evangelist in Bach's passion-music; but by no means with a like necessity. Unquestionably the latter shared the conviction of his day, that not only the substance, but the words, of the biblical dogma were sacred. Schumann's case was not at all similar. He had before him, in the poem to be set to music, a work of art which, although once remodelled, would still permit every formal change required by æsthetic considerations. How easy, for example, it would have been to abolish the narrator, as destructive of unity!"Had the narrative passages been omitted, it would unquestionably have enhanced the interest and perhaps relieved the monotony and wearisomeness of some parts of the work. Unlike the usual manner in which the narrator's part is treated,--as a mere recitative link between numbers,--Schumann invests it with the same importance as the acts and events themselves, and treats it melodically, so that the relief which comes from contrast is lacking.The oratorio is written in three parts, for solo voices, chorus, and orchestra, the principals being the Peri (soprano); the Angel (alto); the King of Gazna (bass); a Youth (tenor); the Horseman (baritone); and the Maiden (soprano). The choruses[276]are sung by Indians, Angels, Houris, and Genii of the Nile, and the part of Narrator is divided among the various voices. The story follows that of the original poem. The Peri, expelled from Paradise, stands at its gate weeping to think"her recreant raceShould e'er have lost that sacred place."The angel who keeps the gate of light promises she shall be re-admitted if she brings "the gift that is most dear to Heaven." The Peri goes in quest of the gift, first to India, where she procures the last drop of blood shed by the hero who resisted the tyrant Mahmoud, and takes it with her to the gate; but the crystal bar moves not. She continues her quest, and from the pestilential plains of Egypt she takes back the last sigh of the maiden who sacrificed herself to her love for the youth who stole out to die alone. But still the crystal bar moves not. At last, in the vale of Baalbec, she finds the gift,--the tear of a repentant sinner,--which secures her admission.After a brief orchestral introduction, the Narrator (alto) tells the story of the disconsolate Peri at the gate, and introduces her in the first solo ("How blest seem to me, vanished Child of Air"), a tender, beautiful melody, characterized by romantic sentiment. The Narrator (tenor) introduces the Angel, who delivers her message to the Peri ("One Hope is thine"), to which the latter replies in a sensuous melody, full of Oriental color ("I know the Wealth[277]hidden in every Urn"). The tenor Narrator introduces at this point a quartet ("O beauteous Land"), in which the two trebles, tenor, and bass alternate, followed by the full, powerful chorus, "But crimson now her Rivers ran." A weird march, fairly barbaric in its effect, indicates the approach of the tyrant of Gazna, and introduces the stirring chorus of the Indians and Conquerors ("Hail to Mahmoud"). The tenor Narrator describes the youthful warrior standing alone beside his native river and defying the tyrant. Once more the chorus shouts its greeting to Mahmoud, and then ensues a dialogue in recitative between the two, leading up to the youth's death and a double chorus of lamentation ("Woe, for false flew the Shaft"). The tenor Narrator describes the flight of the Peri to catch the last drop of blood shed for liberty; and then all the voices join with the soprano solo in a broad, strong, exultant finale ("For Blood must holy be"), which is one of the most effective numbers in the work.The second part opens in the most charming manner. The tenor Narrator pictures the return of the Peri with her gift, leading up to the Angel's solo ("Sweet is our welcome"), which preludes a brief choral passage for sixteen female voices. After the Narrator's declaration of her disappointment, the scene changes to Egypt, and in a dainty, delicate three-part chorus the Spirits of the Nile are invoked not to disturb the Peri. Her lament is heard ("O Eden, how longeth for thee my Heart!"), and the Spirits now weave a gentle, sympathetic strain with[278]her song. A long tenor narration follows ("Now wanders forth the Peri sighing"), describing the pestilence brooding over the Egyptian plains, the music to which is very characteristic. The scene of the maiden dying with her lover is full of pathos, and contains two exquisite numbers,--the narrative solo for mezzo-soprano ("Poor Youth, thus deserted"), and the dying love-song of the Maiden ("O let me only breathe the Air, Love"). The scene closes with a sweet and gentle lament for the pair ("Sleep on"), sung by the Peri, followed by the chorus, which joins in the pathetic farewell.The third part opens with a lovely chorus of Houris ("Wreathe ye the Steps to Great Allah's Throne"), interspersed with solos and Oriental in its coloring. The tenor narration ("Now Morn is blushing in the Sky"), which is very melodious in character, introduces the Angel, who in an alto solo ("Not yet") once more dooms the Peri to wander. Her reply ("Rejected and sent from Eden's Door") is full of despair. The narration is now taken by the baritone in a flowing, breezy strain ("And now o'er Syria's rosy Plain"), which is followed by a charming quartet of Peris ("Say, is it so?"). Once more the baritone intervenes, followed by the Peri; and then the tenor Narrator takes up the theme in a stirring description of the boy nestling amid the roses, and the "passion-stained" horseman at the fountain. The alto proclaims the vesper call to prayer, and the tenor reflects upon the memories of the wretched man as he sees the child kneeling.[279]The solo baritone announces his repentance, followed by a quartet and chorus in very broad, full harmony ("O blessed Tears of true Repentance!"). The next number is a double one, composed of soprano and tenor solos with chorus ("There falls a Drop on the Land of Egypt"). In an exultant, triumphant strain ("Joy, joy forever, my Work is done!"), the Peri sings her happiness, and the chorus brings the work to a close with the heavenly greeting, "Oh, welcome 'mid the Blessed!" The third part is unquestionably long and wearisome, and taxes not only the voices of the singers, but also the patience of the hearers. The first and second, however, contain some beautiful gems, and the orchestral work is very rich in its coloring. Taken all in all, however, it is a severe treatment of a fanciful subject.

Schumann's secular oratorio, "Paradise and the Peri," was written in 1843, and first performed at the Gewandhaus, Leipsic, December 4th of that[274]year, under the composer's own direction. Its first performance in England was given June 23, 1856, with Madame Jenny Lind-Goldschmidt in the part of the Peri, Sterndale Bennett conducting. The text is taken from the second poem in Moore's "Lalla Rookh," and was suggested to Schumann by his friend Emil Flechsig, who had translated the poem. This was in 1841; but he did not set it to music until two years later. The text required many changes, and these he made himself. The principal additions are a chorus for "The Spirits of the Nile," the chorus of Houris, the Peri's solo, "Banished," the quartet, "Peri, 'tis true," the solo, "Sunken was the Golden Orb," and the final chorus. It has also been suggested that he availed himself of still another translation, that of Ollker's, as many of the changes agree with his text.

It is difficult to define the exact form of the work, though it is nearly always classed as a secular oratorio, principally because of the introduction of the narrator, after the style of the passion-music. In other respects it resembles the cantata. Reissmann, in his Life of Schumann, says on this point,--

"It seems right that he should have retained the most primitive form of the oratorio, that of the passion-music. The poem has no genuinely dramatic course; there was not the smallest intrinsic or extrinsic reason to dramatize it more fully. Even with treatment such as that of the 'Walpurgisnacht,' it must have lost much of its picturesque development[275]The only proper way to treat the subject, therefore, was to retain the original epic form, and to introduce a narrator in the style of antique oratorio, who should relate the facts in a few simple words up to the point where they seem to demand a more dramatic setting."

"It seems right that he should have retained the most primitive form of the oratorio, that of the passion-music. The poem has no genuinely dramatic course; there was not the smallest intrinsic or extrinsic reason to dramatize it more fully. Even with treatment such as that of the 'Walpurgisnacht,' it must have lost much of its picturesque development[275]The only proper way to treat the subject, therefore, was to retain the original epic form, and to introduce a narrator in the style of antique oratorio, who should relate the facts in a few simple words up to the point where they seem to demand a more dramatic setting."

Von Wasielewski also discusses the same point:

"The narrator is evidently copied from the evangelist in Bach's passion-music; but by no means with a like necessity. Unquestionably the latter shared the conviction of his day, that not only the substance, but the words, of the biblical dogma were sacred. Schumann's case was not at all similar. He had before him, in the poem to be set to music, a work of art which, although once remodelled, would still permit every formal change required by æsthetic considerations. How easy, for example, it would have been to abolish the narrator, as destructive of unity!"

"The narrator is evidently copied from the evangelist in Bach's passion-music; but by no means with a like necessity. Unquestionably the latter shared the conviction of his day, that not only the substance, but the words, of the biblical dogma were sacred. Schumann's case was not at all similar. He had before him, in the poem to be set to music, a work of art which, although once remodelled, would still permit every formal change required by æsthetic considerations. How easy, for example, it would have been to abolish the narrator, as destructive of unity!"

Had the narrative passages been omitted, it would unquestionably have enhanced the interest and perhaps relieved the monotony and wearisomeness of some parts of the work. Unlike the usual manner in which the narrator's part is treated,--as a mere recitative link between numbers,--Schumann invests it with the same importance as the acts and events themselves, and treats it melodically, so that the relief which comes from contrast is lacking.

The oratorio is written in three parts, for solo voices, chorus, and orchestra, the principals being the Peri (soprano); the Angel (alto); the King of Gazna (bass); a Youth (tenor); the Horseman (baritone); and the Maiden (soprano). The choruses[276]are sung by Indians, Angels, Houris, and Genii of the Nile, and the part of Narrator is divided among the various voices. The story follows that of the original poem. The Peri, expelled from Paradise, stands at its gate weeping to think

"her recreant raceShould e'er have lost that sacred place."

"her recreant raceShould e'er have lost that sacred place."

"her recreant race

Should e'er have lost that sacred place."

The angel who keeps the gate of light promises she shall be re-admitted if she brings "the gift that is most dear to Heaven." The Peri goes in quest of the gift, first to India, where she procures the last drop of blood shed by the hero who resisted the tyrant Mahmoud, and takes it with her to the gate; but the crystal bar moves not. She continues her quest, and from the pestilential plains of Egypt she takes back the last sigh of the maiden who sacrificed herself to her love for the youth who stole out to die alone. But still the crystal bar moves not. At last, in the vale of Baalbec, she finds the gift,--the tear of a repentant sinner,--which secures her admission.

After a brief orchestral introduction, the Narrator (alto) tells the story of the disconsolate Peri at the gate, and introduces her in the first solo ("How blest seem to me, vanished Child of Air"), a tender, beautiful melody, characterized by romantic sentiment. The Narrator (tenor) introduces the Angel, who delivers her message to the Peri ("One Hope is thine"), to which the latter replies in a sensuous melody, full of Oriental color ("I know the Wealth[277]hidden in every Urn"). The tenor Narrator introduces at this point a quartet ("O beauteous Land"), in which the two trebles, tenor, and bass alternate, followed by the full, powerful chorus, "But crimson now her Rivers ran." A weird march, fairly barbaric in its effect, indicates the approach of the tyrant of Gazna, and introduces the stirring chorus of the Indians and Conquerors ("Hail to Mahmoud"). The tenor Narrator describes the youthful warrior standing alone beside his native river and defying the tyrant. Once more the chorus shouts its greeting to Mahmoud, and then ensues a dialogue in recitative between the two, leading up to the youth's death and a double chorus of lamentation ("Woe, for false flew the Shaft"). The tenor Narrator describes the flight of the Peri to catch the last drop of blood shed for liberty; and then all the voices join with the soprano solo in a broad, strong, exultant finale ("For Blood must holy be"), which is one of the most effective numbers in the work.

The second part opens in the most charming manner. The tenor Narrator pictures the return of the Peri with her gift, leading up to the Angel's solo ("Sweet is our welcome"), which preludes a brief choral passage for sixteen female voices. After the Narrator's declaration of her disappointment, the scene changes to Egypt, and in a dainty, delicate three-part chorus the Spirits of the Nile are invoked not to disturb the Peri. Her lament is heard ("O Eden, how longeth for thee my Heart!"), and the Spirits now weave a gentle, sympathetic strain with[278]her song. A long tenor narration follows ("Now wanders forth the Peri sighing"), describing the pestilence brooding over the Egyptian plains, the music to which is very characteristic. The scene of the maiden dying with her lover is full of pathos, and contains two exquisite numbers,--the narrative solo for mezzo-soprano ("Poor Youth, thus deserted"), and the dying love-song of the Maiden ("O let me only breathe the Air, Love"). The scene closes with a sweet and gentle lament for the pair ("Sleep on"), sung by the Peri, followed by the chorus, which joins in the pathetic farewell.

The third part opens with a lovely chorus of Houris ("Wreathe ye the Steps to Great Allah's Throne"), interspersed with solos and Oriental in its coloring. The tenor narration ("Now Morn is blushing in the Sky"), which is very melodious in character, introduces the Angel, who in an alto solo ("Not yet") once more dooms the Peri to wander. Her reply ("Rejected and sent from Eden's Door") is full of despair. The narration is now taken by the baritone in a flowing, breezy strain ("And now o'er Syria's rosy Plain"), which is followed by a charming quartet of Peris ("Say, is it so?"). Once more the baritone intervenes, followed by the Peri; and then the tenor Narrator takes up the theme in a stirring description of the boy nestling amid the roses, and the "passion-stained" horseman at the fountain. The alto proclaims the vesper call to prayer, and the tenor reflects upon the memories of the wretched man as he sees the child kneeling.[279]The solo baritone announces his repentance, followed by a quartet and chorus in very broad, full harmony ("O blessed Tears of true Repentance!"). The next number is a double one, composed of soprano and tenor solos with chorus ("There falls a Drop on the Land of Egypt"). In an exultant, triumphant strain ("Joy, joy forever, my Work is done!"), the Peri sings her happiness, and the chorus brings the work to a close with the heavenly greeting, "Oh, welcome 'mid the Blessed!" The third part is unquestionably long and wearisome, and taxes not only the voices of the singers, but also the patience of the hearers. The first and second, however, contain some beautiful gems, and the orchestral work is very rich in its coloring. Taken all in all, however, it is a severe treatment of a fanciful subject.

[280]SPOHR.Louis Spohr, one of the world's greatest violinists, and a composer of world-wide fame, was born at Brunswick, April 25, 1784. Like all great musical geniuses, his ability was displayed very early. He began to play the violin in his fifth year, and to compose for that instrument before he was in his teens. After studying the rudiments with several teachers, the Duke of Brunswick induced Franz Eck, a recognized master of the violin, to give him instruction. Spohr remained with him two years, and accompanied him on his travels to Russia, studying, composing, and learning much by his observation of Eck's playing. In 1805 he was appointed leader of the band of the Duke of Gotha, and began writing orchestral works, his compositions before that time having been mainly for the violin. His first opera, "Die Prüfung," also appeared about this time. In 1807 he made a very successful tour through Germany, and another in[281]1809, arousing great enthusiasm by his admirable playing. In that year also occurred the first musical festival in Germany, which was conducted by Spohr at Frankenhausen, in Thuringia. In 1811 another was held, for which he wrote his first symphony. In 1812 his first oratorio, "Das jüngste Gericht," appeared; but after two performances of it he was greatly dissatisfied, and laid it aside. In the fall of that year he made his first public appearance in Vienna, and achieved such success that he was offered and accepted the leadership of the band at the Theater-an-der-Wien. He remained there only three years, however, and then resumed his professional tours in Switzerland and Italy. In 1818 he was appointed conductor of the opera at Frankfort, where he remained for two years, during which time he brought out his operas "Faust" and "Zemire and Azor." In 1820 he went to England for the first time, and played many of his compositions in the Philharmonic concerts. His English visit was a very successful one, and on his journey back to Germany he stopped in Paris, where also he met with an enthusiastic welcome. He finally settled down at Dresden, where Weber was then busy with the preparations for the performance of his "Freischütz." During his stay there, Weber had been offered the post of Hofkapellmeister to the Elector of Cassel; but not being in a position to accept it, he recommended Spohr, and the latter obtained the appointment Jan. 1, 1822, where he remained the rest of his days, as it was a life-office. During this[282]year he finished his opera "Jessonda," one of the most successful of all his vocal works. Four years later he conducted the Rhenish Festival at Düsseldorf and brought out his second oratorio, "Die letzten Dinge" ("The Last Things"). In 1831 he completed his "Violin School," which has ever since been a standard work. His most important symphony, "Die Weihe der Töne" ("The Consecration of Sound"), was produced at Cassel in 1832, and his third oratorio, "Des Heiland's letzte Stunden" ("Calvary"), at the same place in 1835. Four years later he went to England again, and produced his "Calvary" at the Norwich Festival with immense success, which led to his reception of a commission to produce "The Fall of Babylon" for the Festival of 1842. His last opera, "The Crusaders," was written in 1844, but did not meet with a permanent success. From this time until 1857 he was engaged in making tours and producing the works of other composers, among them those of Wagner, whose "Tannhäuser" he brought out in 1853, in spite of the Elector's opposition. In 1857 he was pensioned, and two years later died. He was born a musician and died one, and in his long and honorable life he was always true to his art and did much to ennoble and dignify it, notwithstanding the curious combinations in his musical texture. He never could understand or appreciate Beethoven. He proclaimed himself a disciple of Mozart, though he had little in common with him, and he declared Wagner the greatest[283]of all living composers, on the strength of his "Flying Dutchman" alone. As a performer, he was one of the best of any period.

Louis Spohr, one of the world's greatest violinists, and a composer of world-wide fame, was born at Brunswick, April 25, 1784. Like all great musical geniuses, his ability was displayed very early. He began to play the violin in his fifth year, and to compose for that instrument before he was in his teens. After studying the rudiments with several teachers, the Duke of Brunswick induced Franz Eck, a recognized master of the violin, to give him instruction. Spohr remained with him two years, and accompanied him on his travels to Russia, studying, composing, and learning much by his observation of Eck's playing. In 1805 he was appointed leader of the band of the Duke of Gotha, and began writing orchestral works, his compositions before that time having been mainly for the violin. His first opera, "Die Prüfung," also appeared about this time. In 1807 he made a very successful tour through Germany, and another in[281]1809, arousing great enthusiasm by his admirable playing. In that year also occurred the first musical festival in Germany, which was conducted by Spohr at Frankenhausen, in Thuringia. In 1811 another was held, for which he wrote his first symphony. In 1812 his first oratorio, "Das jüngste Gericht," appeared; but after two performances of it he was greatly dissatisfied, and laid it aside. In the fall of that year he made his first public appearance in Vienna, and achieved such success that he was offered and accepted the leadership of the band at the Theater-an-der-Wien. He remained there only three years, however, and then resumed his professional tours in Switzerland and Italy. In 1818 he was appointed conductor of the opera at Frankfort, where he remained for two years, during which time he brought out his operas "Faust" and "Zemire and Azor." In 1820 he went to England for the first time, and played many of his compositions in the Philharmonic concerts. His English visit was a very successful one, and on his journey back to Germany he stopped in Paris, where also he met with an enthusiastic welcome. He finally settled down at Dresden, where Weber was then busy with the preparations for the performance of his "Freischütz." During his stay there, Weber had been offered the post of Hofkapellmeister to the Elector of Cassel; but not being in a position to accept it, he recommended Spohr, and the latter obtained the appointment Jan. 1, 1822, where he remained the rest of his days, as it was a life-office. During this[282]year he finished his opera "Jessonda," one of the most successful of all his vocal works. Four years later he conducted the Rhenish Festival at Düsseldorf and brought out his second oratorio, "Die letzten Dinge" ("The Last Things"). In 1831 he completed his "Violin School," which has ever since been a standard work. His most important symphony, "Die Weihe der Töne" ("The Consecration of Sound"), was produced at Cassel in 1832, and his third oratorio, "Des Heiland's letzte Stunden" ("Calvary"), at the same place in 1835. Four years later he went to England again, and produced his "Calvary" at the Norwich Festival with immense success, which led to his reception of a commission to produce "The Fall of Babylon" for the Festival of 1842. His last opera, "The Crusaders," was written in 1844, but did not meet with a permanent success. From this time until 1857 he was engaged in making tours and producing the works of other composers, among them those of Wagner, whose "Tannhäuser" he brought out in 1853, in spite of the Elector's opposition. In 1857 he was pensioned, and two years later died. He was born a musician and died one, and in his long and honorable life he was always true to his art and did much to ennoble and dignify it, notwithstanding the curious combinations in his musical texture. He never could understand or appreciate Beethoven. He proclaimed himself a disciple of Mozart, though he had little in common with him, and he declared Wagner the greatest[283]of all living composers, on the strength of his "Flying Dutchman" alone. As a performer, he was one of the best of any period.

The Last Judgment.Spohr wrote two oratorios upon the same subject,--"Das jüngste Gericht" ("The Last Judgment") and "Die letzten Dinge" ("The Last Things"); but the latter is now universally entitled "The Last Judgment," and the former was shelved by the composer himself shortly after its performance. His autobiography gives us some interesting details of each. After a concert-tour to Hamburg, Spohr returned to Gotha, and found there a letter from Bischoff, the Precentor of Frankenhausen, informing him that he had been commanded by the Governor of Erfurt to arrange a musical festival there in celebration of the birthday of Napoleon, August 15. He invited Spohr to assume its direction and to write an oratorio for the occasion. Previous to this a poet in Erfurt had offered him the text called "The Last Judgment," and Spohr determined to avail himself of it. He writes,--"I sent for the libretto and set to work at once. But I soon felt that for the oratorio style I was yet too deficient in counterpoint and in fugueing. I therefore suspended my work in order to make the preliminary studies requisite for the subject. From one of my[284]pupils I borrowed Marpurg's 'Art of Fugue-writing,' and was soon deeply and continuously engaged in the study of that work. After I had written half a dozen fugues according to its instruction, the last of which seemed to me very successful, I resumed the composition of my oratorio, and completed it without allowing anything else to intervene. According to a memorandum I made, it was begun in January, 1812, and finished in June."In this connection Spohr tells the following humorous story:--"One of the solo-singers alone, who sang the part of Satan, did not give me satisfaction. The part, which was written with a powerful instrumentation, I gave, by the advice of Bischoff, to a village schoolmaster in the neighborhood of Gotha who was celebrated throughout the whole district for his colossal bass voice. In power of voice he had indeed quite sufficient to outroar a whole orchestra; but in science and in music he could by no means execute the part in a satisfactory manner. I taught and practised him in the part myself, and took great pains to assist him a little. But without much success; for when the day of public trial came, he had totally forgotten every instruction and admonition, and gave such loose to his barbarian voice that he first of all frightened the auditory, and then set it in roars of laughter."It is clear from Spohr's remarks that he was satisfied with the choruses and fugues, but not with the solo parts of Jesus and Mary, which were in the florid cantata style of that day. He subsequently[285]determined to re-write them; but "when about to begin," he says, "it seemed to me as though I could no longer enter into the spirit of the subject, and so it remained undone. To publish the work as it was, I could not make up my mind. Thus in later years it has lain by without any use being made of it."Thirteen years afterwards he wrote "Die letzten Dinge," now so well known as "The Last Judgment." He says in one of his letters,--"In the same year [1825] Councillor Rochlitz, the editor of the 'Leipsic Musical Journal,' offered me the text of an oratorio, 'Die letzten Dinge,' to compose for, which I received with great pleasure, as my previous attempt in that style of art, 'Das jüngste Gericht,' by no means pleased me any longer, and therefore I had not once been disposed to perform a single number of it at the meeting of our Society.... The whole work was finished by Good Friday [1826], and then first performed complete in the Lutheran Church. It was in the evening, and the church was lighted up. My son-in-law, Wolff, who had been long in Rome, proposed to illuminate the church as at Rome on Good Friday, with lights disposed overhead in the form of a cross, and carried out his idea. A cross fourteen feet long, covered with silver-foil and hung with six hundred glass lamps, was suspended overhead in the middle of the church, and diffused so bright a light that one could everywhere clearly read the text-books. The musicians and singers, nearly two hundred in number, were placed in the gallery of the church, arranged in rows one above the other, and for the most part[286]unseen by the auditory, which, amounting to nearly two thousand persons, observed a solemn stillness. My two daughters, Messrs. Wild, Albert, and Föppel, together with an amateur, sang the soli, and the performance was faultless. The effect was, I must myself say, extraordinary."The title of the work is clearly a misnomer, as well as a mistranslation, for it contains nothing of the terrors of the Last Judgment, but, on the other hand, is graceful and elegant in style. The affixing of this title to it is said to have been the work of Professor Taylor, who arranged it for the Norwich festival of 1830, and supposed he was preparing the earlier oratorio, "Das jüngste Gericht." The title has now become so indissolubly connected with it that no effort has been made to change it. In the first part the text is confined to ascriptions of praise. The solo, "Blessing, honor, glory, and power be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb forever," conveys the meaning of the whole first part; while the second part is confined to those portions of the Apocalypse which describe the terrible signs of the last day, concluding with visions of the new heaven and a hallelujah. And yet Malibran, in her biography of Spohr, calls the oratorio a musical copy of Michael Angelo's "Last Judgment,"--showing that more than one person has confounded the two oratorios.The work opens with a very long overture of a grave and majestic character, in limits far beyond[287]those usually found in oratorio. It is followed by the striking chorus, "Praise His awful Name," which is beautifully written, and contains impressive soprano and bass solos. Some brief tenor and bass recitatives lead to the second number, a short chorus ("Holy, holy, Lord God of Hosts"), in which the voices have no accompaniment except the horns. Three phrases of recitative for soprano and tenor lead to the next chorus ("All Glory to the Lamb that died"), a grand number, which is familiar to nearly every lover of oratorio music. The next number is one of the most striking in the work. A short tenor recitative introduces the tenor solo and chorus, "Blessing, honor, glory, and power," beginning with a tranquil and smoothly flowing solo, the chorus opening in the same manner, then developing into an admirably written fugue, and closing in the same serene style as it opened. A very dramatic and picturesque scene follows, comprising the tenor recitative ("And lo! a mighty Host"), with a very striking accompaniment descriptive of "the mighty host of all nations and people that stood before the throne and the Lamb," and the exquisite quartet and chorus ("Lord God of Heaven and Earth") which close the first part.The second part opens with an orchestral symphony which heralds the signs and portents of the Day of Judgment in graphic style. It is followed by a long bass recitative with intensely dramatic accompaniment:--[288]"The day of wrath is near.The Almighty shall reveal His power.The reaper's song is silent in the field,And the shepherd's voice on the mountain.The valleys then shall shake with fear,With dread the hills shall tremble.It comes, the day of terror comes!The awful morning dawns!Thy mighty arm, O God, is uplifted.Thou shalt shake the earth and heavens.They shall shrivel as a scrollWhen Thou in wrath appearest."The text indicates the dramatic nature of the subject, and it is treated with a force and vigor that are in striking contrast with the tenderness and serenity, at times rising to exultation, that characterize the remainder of the work. This recitative leads to the very pathetic duet for soprano and tenor, "Forsake me not in this dread hour," which is a gem of beautiful melody, followed by the response of the chorus in unison, "If with your whole Hearts." After a short tenor recitative, another strong chorus ensues ("Destroyed is Babylon"), with an agitated and powerful accompaniment, which continues for some time after the voices cease, once interrupted by the tenor proclaiming "It is ended," and then coming to a close in a gentle pianissimo effect. A tender, melodious quartet and chorus ("Blest are the Departed") follows. The soprano voice announces the new heaven and earth. A short tenor recitative ("Behold! He soon shall come") and the quartet response ("Then come, Lord Jesus") prepare the way for the final massive[289]chorus ("Great and wonderful are all Thy Works"), which begins with a few bars of full harmony, then develops into a vigorous fugue, which, after choral announcements of hallelujah, is followed by another fugue ("Thine is the Kingdom"), closing with a tumultuous ascription of praise, and Amen. The solo parts in the oratorio are always short and of a reflective character. It is peculiarly a choral work, of which, with one or two exceptions, the predominant traits are sweetness, tenderness, and grace. In these exceptions, like the great chorus, "Destroyed is Babylon," with its wonderful accompaniments, it reaches a high strain of sublimity.

Spohr wrote two oratorios upon the same subject,--"Das jüngste Gericht" ("The Last Judgment") and "Die letzten Dinge" ("The Last Things"); but the latter is now universally entitled "The Last Judgment," and the former was shelved by the composer himself shortly after its performance. His autobiography gives us some interesting details of each. After a concert-tour to Hamburg, Spohr returned to Gotha, and found there a letter from Bischoff, the Precentor of Frankenhausen, informing him that he had been commanded by the Governor of Erfurt to arrange a musical festival there in celebration of the birthday of Napoleon, August 15. He invited Spohr to assume its direction and to write an oratorio for the occasion. Previous to this a poet in Erfurt had offered him the text called "The Last Judgment," and Spohr determined to avail himself of it. He writes,--

"I sent for the libretto and set to work at once. But I soon felt that for the oratorio style I was yet too deficient in counterpoint and in fugueing. I therefore suspended my work in order to make the preliminary studies requisite for the subject. From one of my[284]pupils I borrowed Marpurg's 'Art of Fugue-writing,' and was soon deeply and continuously engaged in the study of that work. After I had written half a dozen fugues according to its instruction, the last of which seemed to me very successful, I resumed the composition of my oratorio, and completed it without allowing anything else to intervene. According to a memorandum I made, it was begun in January, 1812, and finished in June."

"I sent for the libretto and set to work at once. But I soon felt that for the oratorio style I was yet too deficient in counterpoint and in fugueing. I therefore suspended my work in order to make the preliminary studies requisite for the subject. From one of my[284]pupils I borrowed Marpurg's 'Art of Fugue-writing,' and was soon deeply and continuously engaged in the study of that work. After I had written half a dozen fugues according to its instruction, the last of which seemed to me very successful, I resumed the composition of my oratorio, and completed it without allowing anything else to intervene. According to a memorandum I made, it was begun in January, 1812, and finished in June."

In this connection Spohr tells the following humorous story:--

"One of the solo-singers alone, who sang the part of Satan, did not give me satisfaction. The part, which was written with a powerful instrumentation, I gave, by the advice of Bischoff, to a village schoolmaster in the neighborhood of Gotha who was celebrated throughout the whole district for his colossal bass voice. In power of voice he had indeed quite sufficient to outroar a whole orchestra; but in science and in music he could by no means execute the part in a satisfactory manner. I taught and practised him in the part myself, and took great pains to assist him a little. But without much success; for when the day of public trial came, he had totally forgotten every instruction and admonition, and gave such loose to his barbarian voice that he first of all frightened the auditory, and then set it in roars of laughter."

"One of the solo-singers alone, who sang the part of Satan, did not give me satisfaction. The part, which was written with a powerful instrumentation, I gave, by the advice of Bischoff, to a village schoolmaster in the neighborhood of Gotha who was celebrated throughout the whole district for his colossal bass voice. In power of voice he had indeed quite sufficient to outroar a whole orchestra; but in science and in music he could by no means execute the part in a satisfactory manner. I taught and practised him in the part myself, and took great pains to assist him a little. But without much success; for when the day of public trial came, he had totally forgotten every instruction and admonition, and gave such loose to his barbarian voice that he first of all frightened the auditory, and then set it in roars of laughter."

It is clear from Spohr's remarks that he was satisfied with the choruses and fugues, but not with the solo parts of Jesus and Mary, which were in the florid cantata style of that day. He subsequently[285]determined to re-write them; but "when about to begin," he says, "it seemed to me as though I could no longer enter into the spirit of the subject, and so it remained undone. To publish the work as it was, I could not make up my mind. Thus in later years it has lain by without any use being made of it."

Thirteen years afterwards he wrote "Die letzten Dinge," now so well known as "The Last Judgment." He says in one of his letters,--

"In the same year [1825] Councillor Rochlitz, the editor of the 'Leipsic Musical Journal,' offered me the text of an oratorio, 'Die letzten Dinge,' to compose for, which I received with great pleasure, as my previous attempt in that style of art, 'Das jüngste Gericht,' by no means pleased me any longer, and therefore I had not once been disposed to perform a single number of it at the meeting of our Society.... The whole work was finished by Good Friday [1826], and then first performed complete in the Lutheran Church. It was in the evening, and the church was lighted up. My son-in-law, Wolff, who had been long in Rome, proposed to illuminate the church as at Rome on Good Friday, with lights disposed overhead in the form of a cross, and carried out his idea. A cross fourteen feet long, covered with silver-foil and hung with six hundred glass lamps, was suspended overhead in the middle of the church, and diffused so bright a light that one could everywhere clearly read the text-books. The musicians and singers, nearly two hundred in number, were placed in the gallery of the church, arranged in rows one above the other, and for the most part[286]unseen by the auditory, which, amounting to nearly two thousand persons, observed a solemn stillness. My two daughters, Messrs. Wild, Albert, and Föppel, together with an amateur, sang the soli, and the performance was faultless. The effect was, I must myself say, extraordinary."

"In the same year [1825] Councillor Rochlitz, the editor of the 'Leipsic Musical Journal,' offered me the text of an oratorio, 'Die letzten Dinge,' to compose for, which I received with great pleasure, as my previous attempt in that style of art, 'Das jüngste Gericht,' by no means pleased me any longer, and therefore I had not once been disposed to perform a single number of it at the meeting of our Society.... The whole work was finished by Good Friday [1826], and then first performed complete in the Lutheran Church. It was in the evening, and the church was lighted up. My son-in-law, Wolff, who had been long in Rome, proposed to illuminate the church as at Rome on Good Friday, with lights disposed overhead in the form of a cross, and carried out his idea. A cross fourteen feet long, covered with silver-foil and hung with six hundred glass lamps, was suspended overhead in the middle of the church, and diffused so bright a light that one could everywhere clearly read the text-books. The musicians and singers, nearly two hundred in number, were placed in the gallery of the church, arranged in rows one above the other, and for the most part[286]unseen by the auditory, which, amounting to nearly two thousand persons, observed a solemn stillness. My two daughters, Messrs. Wild, Albert, and Föppel, together with an amateur, sang the soli, and the performance was faultless. The effect was, I must myself say, extraordinary."

The title of the work is clearly a misnomer, as well as a mistranslation, for it contains nothing of the terrors of the Last Judgment, but, on the other hand, is graceful and elegant in style. The affixing of this title to it is said to have been the work of Professor Taylor, who arranged it for the Norwich festival of 1830, and supposed he was preparing the earlier oratorio, "Das jüngste Gericht." The title has now become so indissolubly connected with it that no effort has been made to change it. In the first part the text is confined to ascriptions of praise. The solo, "Blessing, honor, glory, and power be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb forever," conveys the meaning of the whole first part; while the second part is confined to those portions of the Apocalypse which describe the terrible signs of the last day, concluding with visions of the new heaven and a hallelujah. And yet Malibran, in her biography of Spohr, calls the oratorio a musical copy of Michael Angelo's "Last Judgment,"--showing that more than one person has confounded the two oratorios.

The work opens with a very long overture of a grave and majestic character, in limits far beyond[287]those usually found in oratorio. It is followed by the striking chorus, "Praise His awful Name," which is beautifully written, and contains impressive soprano and bass solos. Some brief tenor and bass recitatives lead to the second number, a short chorus ("Holy, holy, Lord God of Hosts"), in which the voices have no accompaniment except the horns. Three phrases of recitative for soprano and tenor lead to the next chorus ("All Glory to the Lamb that died"), a grand number, which is familiar to nearly every lover of oratorio music. The next number is one of the most striking in the work. A short tenor recitative introduces the tenor solo and chorus, "Blessing, honor, glory, and power," beginning with a tranquil and smoothly flowing solo, the chorus opening in the same manner, then developing into an admirably written fugue, and closing in the same serene style as it opened. A very dramatic and picturesque scene follows, comprising the tenor recitative ("And lo! a mighty Host"), with a very striking accompaniment descriptive of "the mighty host of all nations and people that stood before the throne and the Lamb," and the exquisite quartet and chorus ("Lord God of Heaven and Earth") which close the first part.

The second part opens with an orchestral symphony which heralds the signs and portents of the Day of Judgment in graphic style. It is followed by a long bass recitative with intensely dramatic accompaniment:--

"The day of wrath is near.The Almighty shall reveal His power.The reaper's song is silent in the field,And the shepherd's voice on the mountain.The valleys then shall shake with fear,With dread the hills shall tremble.It comes, the day of terror comes!The awful morning dawns!Thy mighty arm, O God, is uplifted.Thou shalt shake the earth and heavens.They shall shrivel as a scrollWhen Thou in wrath appearest."

"The day of wrath is near.The Almighty shall reveal His power.The reaper's song is silent in the field,And the shepherd's voice on the mountain.The valleys then shall shake with fear,With dread the hills shall tremble.It comes, the day of terror comes!The awful morning dawns!Thy mighty arm, O God, is uplifted.Thou shalt shake the earth and heavens.They shall shrivel as a scrollWhen Thou in wrath appearest."

"The day of wrath is near.

The Almighty shall reveal His power.

The reaper's song is silent in the field,

And the shepherd's voice on the mountain.

The valleys then shall shake with fear,

With dread the hills shall tremble.

It comes, the day of terror comes!

The awful morning dawns!

Thy mighty arm, O God, is uplifted.

Thou shalt shake the earth and heavens.

They shall shrivel as a scroll

When Thou in wrath appearest."

The text indicates the dramatic nature of the subject, and it is treated with a force and vigor that are in striking contrast with the tenderness and serenity, at times rising to exultation, that characterize the remainder of the work. This recitative leads to the very pathetic duet for soprano and tenor, "Forsake me not in this dread hour," which is a gem of beautiful melody, followed by the response of the chorus in unison, "If with your whole Hearts." After a short tenor recitative, another strong chorus ensues ("Destroyed is Babylon"), with an agitated and powerful accompaniment, which continues for some time after the voices cease, once interrupted by the tenor proclaiming "It is ended," and then coming to a close in a gentle pianissimo effect. A tender, melodious quartet and chorus ("Blest are the Departed") follows. The soprano voice announces the new heaven and earth. A short tenor recitative ("Behold! He soon shall come") and the quartet response ("Then come, Lord Jesus") prepare the way for the final massive[289]chorus ("Great and wonderful are all Thy Works"), which begins with a few bars of full harmony, then develops into a vigorous fugue, which, after choral announcements of hallelujah, is followed by another fugue ("Thine is the Kingdom"), closing with a tumultuous ascription of praise, and Amen. The solo parts in the oratorio are always short and of a reflective character. It is peculiarly a choral work, of which, with one or two exceptions, the predominant traits are sweetness, tenderness, and grace. In these exceptions, like the great chorus, "Destroyed is Babylon," with its wonderful accompaniments, it reaches a high strain of sublimity.

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