THE STANDARD CANTATAS. (continued 5)

Though the work has somewhat both of the Schumann and Mendelssohn sentiment in it, it is nevertheless original and characteristic in treatment. The melodies are pleasing throughout, and cover a wide range of expression, reaching from the tenderness of love to the madness of jealousy, and thence on to the elegiac finale.

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ROMBERG.

Andreas Romberg was born April 27, 1767, at Vechte, near Münster. At a very early age he was celebrated as a violinist. In his seventeenth year he made a furor by his playing at the Concerts Spirituels, Paris. In 1790, with his cousin Bernhard, who was even more celebrated as a violoncellist (indeed the Rombergs, like the Bachs, were all musicians), he played in the Elector’s band, and also went with him to Rome, where the cousins gave concerts together under the patronage of one of the cardinals. During the next four years Andreas travelled in Austria and France, and during his stay at Vienna made the acquaintance of Haydn, who was very much interested in his musical work. In 1800 he brought out an opera in Paris which made a failure. He then left for Hamburg, where he married and remained many years. In 1820 he was appointed court capellmeister at Gotha, and died there in the following year. Among his compositions are six symphonies; five operas, “Das graue Ungeheuer,” “Die Macht der Musik,” [309] “Der Rabe,” “Die Grossmuth des Scipio,” and “Die Ruinen zu Paluzzi;” and several cantatas, quartets, quintets, and church compositions. Of all his works, however, his “Lay of the Bell” is the best known. A few years ago it was the stock piece of nearly every choral society in Germany, England, and the United States; and though now relegated to the repertory of old-fashioned music, it is still very popular.

Lay of the Bell.

The “Lay of the Bell” was composed in 1808, the music being set to Schiller’s famous poem of the same name, whose stately measures are well adapted to musical treatment. It opens with a bass solo by the Master, urging on the workmen:—

The full chorus responds in a rather didactic strain (“The Labor we prepare in Earnest”), and as it closes the Master gives his directions for lighting the fire in the furnace and mixing the metals. In this manner the work progresses, the Master issuing his orders until the bell is ready for the casting, the solo singers or chorus replying with sentiments naturally suggested by the process and the future work of the bell. The first of these responses is [310] the chorus, “What in the Earth profoundly hidden,” a smoothly flowing number followed by a soprano solo (“For with a Burst of joyous Clangor”), a pleasantly-rippling melody picturing the joys of childhood, and a spirited tenor solo (“The Youth, Girl-playmates proudly leaving”) indicating the dawn of the tender passion which broadens out into love, as the two voices join in the charming duet, “O tender Longing, Hope delightsome.” The bass still further emphasizes their delight in the recitative, “When stern and gentle Troth have plighted,” leading up to a long but interesting tenor solo (“Though Passion gives way”) which describes the homely joys of domestic life. The male chorus thereupon takes up the story in a joyful strain (“And the good Man with cheerful Eye”), and tells us of the prosperity of the happy pair and the good man’s boast,—

to which comes the ominous response of the female chorus:—

The Master now gives the signal to release the metal into the mould, whereupon follows a stirring and picturesque chorus (“Right helpful is the Might of Fire”) describing the terrors of fire, the [311] wild alarm, the fright and confusion of the people, the clanging bells and crackling flames, and the final destruction of the homestead, closing the first part.

The second part opens with the anxious orders of the Master to cease from work and await the result of the casting. The chorus takes up a slow and stately measure (“To Mother Earth our Work committing”) which closes in a mournful finale describing the passing funeral train, followed by a pathetic soprano solo which tells the sad story of the death of the good man’s wife, while “To the orphaned Home a Stranger comes unloving Rule to bear.” The scene now changes from a desolate to a happy home as the Master bids the workmen seek their pleasure while the bell is cooling. A soprano solo takes up a cheery strain (“Wends the weary Wanderer”), picturing the harvest home, the dance of the youthful reapers, and the joys of evening by the fireside, followed by a tribute to patriotism, sung by tenor and bass, the pleasant scene closing with an exultant full chorus (“Thousand active Hands combining”). The Master then gives the order to break the mould, and in contemplation of the ruin which might have been caused had the metal burst it, the chorus breaks out in strong, startling phrases picturing the horrors of civil strife (“The Master’s Hand the Mould may shatter”). The work, however, is complete and successful, and in the true spirit of German Gemüthlichkeit the Master summons his workmen:—

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The cantata closes with a last invocation on the part of the Master, followed by a jubilant chorus (“She is moving, She is moving”).

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SCHUBERT.

Franz Peter Schubert was born in Vienna, Jan. 31, 1797, and received his first musical lessons from his father and his elder brother Ignaz. In his eleventh year he sang in the Lichtenthal choir and shortly afterwards entered the Imperial Convict School, where for the next three or four years he made rapid progress in composition. In 1813 he returned home, and to avoid the conscription entered his father’s school as a teacher, where he remained for three years, doing drudgery but improving his leisure hours by studying with Salieri and devoting himself assiduously to composition. His life had few events in it to record. It was devoted entirely to teaching and composition. He wrote in almost every known form of music, but it was in the Lied that he has left the richest legacy to the world, and in that field he reigns with undisputed title. Unquestionably many of these songs were inspirations, like the “Erl King,” for instance, which came to him in the midst of a carousal. The most famous of them are to be found in the cycluses “Müllerlieder,” [314] “Die Gesänge Ossians,” “Die Geistlichen Lieder,” “Die Winterreise,” and “Der Schwanengesang.” They are wonderful for their completeness, their expression of passion, their beauty and grace of form, the delicacy of their fancy, and their high artistic finish. Among the other great works he has left are the lovely “Song of the Spirits over the Water,” for male voices; “Die Allmacht;” “Prometheus;” “Miriam’s War Song;” the eight-part chorus “An den Heiligen Geist;” the “Momens Musicale;” impromptus and Hungarian fantasies for piano; the sonatas in C minor and B flat minor; nine symphonies, two of them unfinished; the trios in B flat and E flat; the quartets in D minor and G major; the quintet in C; two operas, “Alfonso and Estrella” and “Fierrabras;” the mass in G, which he wrote when but eighteen years of age, and the mass in E flat, which was his last church composition. His catalogued works number over a thousand. He died Nov. 19, 1828, and his last wish was to be buried by the side of Beethoven, who on his death-bed had recognized “the divine spark” in Schubert’s music. Three graves only separate the great masters of the Symphony and the Lied in the cemetery of Währing.

Miriam’s War Song.

The majestic cantata, “Miriam’s War Song,” was written in March, 1828, the last year of Schubert’s [315] life,—a year which was rich, however, in the productions of his genius. The beautiful symphony in C, the mass in E flat, the string quartet in C, the three piano sonatas dedicated to Schumann, the eight-voiced “Hymn to the Holy Ghost,” the 92d Psalm, a “Tantum Ergo,” and several songs, among them “Am Strom,” “Der Hirt auf den Felsen,” and a part of the “Schwanengesang,” all belong to this year. The authorities differ as to the time of the first performance of “Miriam’s War Song.” Nottebohm in his catalogue says that it was first sung at a concert, Jan. 30, 1829, given for the purpose of raising funds to erect a monument in memory of the composer, who died on the 19th of the previous November. Others assert that Schubert was induced to give a concert, March 26, 1828, the programme being composed entirely of his own music, and that it was first heard on that occasion.

The work is for soprano solo and chorus, the words by the poet Grillparzer, and the accompaniment, for the piano, as Schubert left it. He had intended arranging it for orchestra, but did not live to complete it. The work, however, was done a year or two afterwards by his friend Franz Lachner, at that time officiating as Capellmeister at the Kärnthnerthor Theatre in Vienna.

The theme of the cantata is Miriam’s hymn of praise for the escape of the Israelites, and the exultant song of victory by the people, rejoicing not alone at their own delivery but at the destruction of the enemy. It opens with a spirited and broad [316] harmony, “Strike the Cymbals,” changing to a calm and graceful song, describing the Lord as a shepherd leading his people forth from Egypt. The next number, depicting the awe of the Israelites as they passed through the divided waters, the approach of Pharaoh’s hosts, and their destruction, is worked up with great power. As the sea returns to its calm again, the opening chorus is repeated, closing with a powerful fugue. The cantata is short, but it is a work of imperishable beauty.

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SCHUMANN.

Robert Schumann 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 Kuntzch, who gave him piano instruction. He studied the piano with Wieck, whose daughter Clara he subsequently married, now world-famous as a pianist. In 1830, in which year his artistic career really opened, he began the theoretical study of music, first with Director Kupsch in Leipsic and later with Heinrich Dorn, and at the same time entered upon the work of composition. 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,” [318] “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 minor symphony, overture, scherzo, and finale in E major, and the symphony in D minor. During this period in his career he made many artistic journeys with his wife, which largely increased the reputation of both. In 1843 he completed his great “romantic oratorio,” “Paradise and the Peri,” set to Moore’s text, and 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, [319] especially in his accompaniments, the loftiest form of expression, and a rigid adherence to the canons of art.

Advent Hymn.

In a letter to Strakerjan, Schumann writes:—

“To apply his powers to sacred music is the artist’s highest aim. But in youth we are all very firmly rooted to earth, with its joys and sorrows; in old age the twigs tend upwards. And so I hope that that day may not be too far distant from me.”

The first of his works indicated in the above words to his friend was the “Advent Hymn,” written in 1848, based upon Rückert’s poem. It was followed later by a requiem and a mass, these comprising his only sacred music.

The “Advent Hymn” describes the entry of Christ into Jerusalem, reflectively considers his peaceful career as compared with that of earthly kings, and appeals to His servants to bear tidings of Him throughout the world, closing with a prayer that He will bring His peace to all its people. It is a hymn full of simple devotion and somewhat narrow in its limitations; but Schumann has treated it with all the dignity and breadth of the oratorio style. It opens with a melodious soprano solo (“In lowly Guise thy King appeareth”), with choral responses by sopranos and altos, leading to an effective [320] five-part chorus (“O King indeed, though no Man hail Thee”), begun by first and second tenors and basses, and closing in full harmony with the added female voices. The soprano voice again announces a subject (“Thy Servants faithful, Tidings bearing”), which is taken up by full chorus, in somewhat involved form, though closing in plain harmony. The third number (“When Thou the stormy Sea art crossing”) is given out by the soprano and repeated by the female chorus with a charming pianissimo effect. A few bars for male chorus (“Lord of Grace and Truth unfailing”) lead into full chorus. The fifth number (“Need is there for Thyself returning”), also choral, is very elaborately treated with interchanging harmonies and bold rhythms, leading up to the final choruses, which are very intricate in construction, but at the close resolve into a double chorus of great power and genuine religious exaltation.

There are other works of Schumann’s which are more or less in the cantata form, such as “The King’s Son,” op. 116, set to a ballad of Uhland’s; “The New Year’s Song,” op. 144, poem by Rückert; “The Luck of Edenhall,” op. 143, poem by Uhland; “Of the Page and the King’s Daughter,” op. 140, poem by Geibel; the “Spanish Love Song,” op. 138; the “Minnespiel,” op. 101; and the “Ritornelle,” op. 65.

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The Pilgrimage of the Rose.

“The Pilgrimage of the Rose,” for solo and chorus, with piano accompaniment, twenty-four numbers, was written in the spring of 1851, and was first performed May 6, 1852, at a Düsseldorf subscription concert. The story is taken from a somewhat vapid fairy-tale by Moritz Horn, and has little point or meaning. It turns upon the commonplace adventures of a young girl whose origin is disclosed by a rose which was never to fall from her hand.

The principal numbers are the opening song, a joyous hymn to spring, in canon form, for two sopranos; the dancing choruses of the elves, for two sopranos and alto; the male chorus, “In the thick Wood,” which is very effective in harmony; the exultant bridal songs, “Why sound the Horns so gayly?” and “Now at the Miller’s;” the duet, “In the smiling Valley, ‘mid the Trees so green;” the Grave Song; the quartet, “Oh, Joy! foretaste of Heaven’s Rest;” and the duet, “I know a blushing Rosebud.”

The work as a whole has never attained the popularity of his “Paradise and the Peri,” though detached numbers from it are frequently given with great success. The inadequacy of the poem has much to do with this; and it must also be remembered that it was written at a time when Schumann’s powers had begun to weaken under the strain of the mental disorder which finally proved fatal. Reissmann, in his analysis of the work, says:—

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“The man who had hitherto refused to allow even the simplest composition to flow from any but a distinct idea, who constantly strove to enter into relations with some distinct movement of the heart or the imagination, here grasped at a poem utterly destitute of any rational fundamental idea, and so arbitrary in execution, so tasteless in parts, that the musical inspiration it offered could never have moved any other composer to set it to music.”

The Minstrel’s Curse.

“The Minstrel’s Curse,” for solo voice, chorus and orchestra, was written in 1852, and first performed in the same year. Its text is based upon Uhland’s beautiful ballad of the same name, which was adapted for the composer by Richard Pohl. The libretto shows numerous variations from the original text. Some of the verses are literally followed, others are changed, and many new songs and motives are introduced. Several of Uhland’s other ballads are assigned to the minstrel, the youth, and the queen, among them “Die Drei Lieder,” “Entsagung,” and “Hohe Liebe,” as well as extracts from “Rudello,” “Lied des Deutschen Sängers,” “Gesang und Krieg,” and “Das Thal.” Instead of the beautiful verse in the original poem:—

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which leads up to the tragedy, it is the singing of the “Hohe Liebe” which is made the motive by Pohl, who from this point on follows the story as told by Uhland.

The work contains fourteen numbers. The first two verses, describing the castle and its haughty monarch, are sung by the narrator, and are followed by an alto solo, very bright and joyous in style, which tells of the arrival of the two minstrels. The fourth number is a Provençal song, full of grace and poetical feeling, sung by the youth, followed by full chorus. The King angrily interposes in the next number, “Enough of Spring and Pleasure,” whereupon the harper sings a beautiful ballad interpolated by the librettist. The queen follows with a quiet, soothing strain, appealing for further songs, and in reply the youth and harper once more sing of spring. The youth’s powerful song of love, which changes to a trio in the close, the queen and harper joining, indicates the coming tragedy, and from this number on the chorus follows the story as told by Uhland, with great power and spirit. The general style of the work is declamatory, but in many of its episodes the ballad form is used with great skill and effect.

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SINGER.

Otto Singer was born in Saxony, July 26, 1833, and attended the Leipsic Conservatory from 1851 to 1855, studying with Richter, Moscheles, and Hauptmann. In 1859 he went to Dresden and for two years thereafter studied with Liszt, of whom he was not only a favorite scholar but always a most zealous advocate. In 1867 he came to this country to take a position in the Conservatory at New York, then under the direction of Theodore Thomas and William Mason. In 1873, upon Mr. Thomas’s suggestion, he went to Cincinnati and became the assistant musical director of the festival chorus of that city, a position which he filled with eminent ability for several years. At the festival of 1878 he conducted the first performance of Liszt’s “Graner Mass” in this country, and also his own “Festival Ode” set to a poem by F. A. Schmitt, and written to commemorate the dedication of the new Music Hall. In the same year the Cincinnati College of Music was organized, and he was engaged as one of the principal instructors, a position which he still holds, and in which he has [325] displayed signal ability. Mr. Singer has written many compositions for piano and orchestra, and besides his “Festival Ode,” the cantata “Landing of the Pilgrims” (1876).

The Landing of the Pilgrims.

“The Landing of the Pilgrims,” written in 1876, was Mr. Singer’s Centennial offering to the patriotic music of that year. The text of the cantata is the familiar poem written by Mrs. Felicia Hemans, which was first set to music by her own sister, Miss Browne, though in somewhat different style from this work of the modern school.

The cantata opens with an instrumental prelude which gives out the principal motive as we afterwards find it set to the words, “With their Hymns of lofty Cheer;” and truly lofty cheer it is, that antique, strong melody. Breathed softly at first, as from afar, it is repeated after a rapid crescendo with the whole weight of the orchestra, to melt away again on an organ point in more subdued tone-color. In the second movement (andante) it appears in quadruple time, augmented in its cadence by a chromatic harmony which serves well to enrich the working-up of this fine piece of orchestral writing. A short interlude containing the germ of a second theme, which afterwards appears at the words, “This was their Welcome Home,” now prepares the entrance of the voices. To the words, “The breaking Waves dashed high,” the basses and tenors give out the first motive, [326] and after declaiming the stormy opening lines of the poem break forth in unison with “When a Band of Exiles moored their Bark on the wild New England Shore.” The time again changing, the composer very happily contrasts the phrases, “Not as a Conqueror comes” and “They the true-hearted came.” Soon, however, the ever-pliable principal theme falls into a martial stride, and a very effective setting of the words, “Not with the Roll of stirring Drums,” concludes the opening male chorus. Here follows the Centennial Hymn as given out in the beginning, sung first by an alto voice, and repeated by the full chorus of mixed voices. After the close, the orchestra, dreaming along in the spell, as it were, seems to spiritualize the sturdy Pilgrim Fathers into meek Pilgrims of the Cross,—a piece of exquisite tenderness, Liszt-Wagnerish, and yet beautiful. After some alto recitatives and short choral phrases, the leading theme once more enters with heavy martial step to the words, “There was Manhood’s Brow,” etc. The musical setting of the question, “What sought they?” etc., is cast in simpler form, and the response, “They sought a Faith’s pure Shrine,” is given in six measures, a capella, for five voices. This brings us to the last movement, andante maestoso. The leading motive, now contracted into one measure, is tossed about in the double basses as on the waves of a heavy surf until it reaches the climax on the words “Freedom to worship God.” The cantata forms a valuable addition to our musical literature, and was first sung by the Cincinnati Harmonic Society, of which Mr. Singer was leader at the time.

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SMART.

Henry Smart, one of the most prominent of the modern English composers, was born in London, Oct. 26, 1813. Though almost entirely self-taught, he soon made his mark as a musician of more than ordinary ability. For many years he was principally known as an organist and organ-writer. He wrote numerous compositions for that instrument, which are still largely in use, and from 1836 to 1864 was famous in London for his contributions to the church service. In 1855 his opera, “Bertha, or the Gnome of Hartzburg,” was produced with success in that city. Among his festival works were the cantatas, “The Bride of Dunkerron,” for Birmingham (1864); “King René’s Daughter” and “The Fishermaidens,” for female voices (1871); the sacred cantata “Jacob,” for Glasgow (1873); and two anthems for solos, chorus, and organ, for the London Choral Choirs’ Association Festivals of 1876 and 1878. As a writer of part-songs he has also achieved a wide reputation. Grove states that he also was “a very accomplished mechanic, and had he taken [328] up engineering instead of music, would no doubt have been successful. As a designer of organs he was often employed.” Shortly after 1864 he lost his sight and thereafter composed entirely by dictation. His services for music secured him a government pension in June, 1879, but he did not live to enjoy it, dying July 6 of the same year.

The Bride of Dunkerron.

“The Bride of Dunkerron,” words by Frederick Enoch, was written for the Birmingham Festival of 1864, and is based upon a tradition, the scene located at the Castle of Dunkerron, on the coast of Kerry, which has also been made the subject of a ballad by Crofton Croker. The story is a very simple one. The Lord of Dunkerron becomes enamoured of a sea-maiden, and as she is unable to leave her element he follows her to her abode. She seeks the Sea-King to obtain his consent to their union, but returns to her lover with the sad message that she is doomed to death for loving a mortal. He in turn is driven from the Sea-King’s realm, and is cast back by the tempest to the shores of the upper world; and the work closes with the laments of the sea-spirits for the maiden, and of the serfs for their master.

After an expressive orchestral introduction the cantata opens with a chorus of the serfs (tenors and basses) (“Ere the Wine-cup is dry”), followed by [329] a very romantic chorus of sea-maidens, the two at times interwoven and responsive,—the one describing Lord Dunkerron’s nightly vigils on the seashore, and the other the melody of the maidens which tempts him. A charming orchestral intermezzo, full of the feeling of the sea, ensues, and is followed by recitative and aria (“The full Moon is beaming”) for Dunkerron, which is very simple in style but effective as a song, even apart from its setting. It leads up to another chorus of the sea-maidens (“Let us sing, the moonlit Shores along”) and a long love dialogue between Dunkerron and the Maiden. The next number is a very spirited and picturesque chorus (“Down through the Deep”) describing the passage of the lovers to the Maiden’s home, which is followed by a sturdy, sonorous recitative and aria for bass voice (“Oh, the Earth is fair in Plain and Glade”) sung by the Sea-King. Two very attractive choruses follow, the first (“O Storm King, hear us”) with a solo for the Sea-King, and the second (“Hail to thee, Child of the Earth”) by the sea-maidens. Another graceful melody, “Our Home shall be on this bright Isle,” is assigned to the Maiden, leading to a duet with Dunkerron, in which she announces her departure to obtain the Sea-King’s consent to their union. A chorus of the storm-spirits (“Roar, Wind of the Tempest, roar”) indicates her doom and leads up to the finale. A powerful trio for the Maiden, Dunkerron, and Sea-King, followed by the angry commands of the latter (“Hurl him [330] back!”), tells of the death of the lovers, and the work closes as it opened, with the intermingled choruses of serfs and sea-maidens, this time, however, full of lamentation over the sad tragedy.

King René’s Daughter.

“King René’s Daughter,” a cantata for female voices only, the poem by Frederick Enoch, was written in 1871. The story is freely adapted from Henrik Hertz’s lyric drama. Iolanthe, the daughter of King René, Count of Provence, was betrothed in her infancy to the son of the Count of Vaudemont. When but a year old she was stricken with blindness. She has been reared in ignorance of her affliction by a strict concealment from her of all knowledge of the blessings of sight. A wandering magician agrees to cure her by the use of an amulet, provided she is first informed of the existence of the missing sense; but her father refuses permission. Her betrothed has never seen her, but wandering one day through the valley of Vaucluse, singing his troubadour lays, he beholds her, and is captivated by her beauty. His song reveals to her the faculty of which she has been kept in ignorance, and the magician, his condition thus having been fulfilled, restores her to sight.

The work is divided into thirteen numbers, the solo parts being Iolanthe (soprano), Martha (mezzo-soprano), and Beatrice (contralto). In the third [331] number another soprano voice is required in a trio and chorus of vintagers; and in the sixth number, a soprano and contralto in the quartet, which acts the part of narrator, and tells of the troubadour’s rose song to Iolanthe. It is unnecessary to specify the numbers in detail, as they are of the same general character,—smooth, flowing, and graceful in melody throughout. The most striking of them are No. 3, trio and chorus (“See how gay the Valley shines”); No. 5, arietta for Martha (“Listening to the Nightingales”); No. 6, quartet (“Who hath seen the Troubadour?”); No. 8, Iolanthe’s song (“I love the Rose”); No. 11, duet and chorus (“Sweet the Angelus is ringing”); and the finale, with the jubilant chorus:—

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SULLIVAN.

Arthur Seymour Sullivan was born in London, May 13, 1842. His father, a band-master and clarinet-player of distinction, intrusted his musical education at first to the Rev. Thomas Hilmore, master of the children of the Chapel Royal. He entered the chapel in 1854 and remained there three years, and also studied in the Royal Academy of Music under Goss and Sterndale Bennett, during this period, leaving the latter institution in 1858, in which year he went to Leipsic. He remained in the Conservatory there until 1861, when he returned to London and introduced himself to its musical public, with his music to Shakspeare’s “Tempest,” which made a great success. The enthusiasm with which this was received, and the favors he gained at the hands of Chorley, at that time musical critic of the “Athenæum,” gave him a secure footing. The cantata “Kenilworth,” written for the Birmingham Festival, the music to the ballet “L’Île enchantée,” and an opera, “The Sapphire Necklace,” were produced in 1864. In 1866 [333] appeared his first symphony and an overture, “In Memoriam,” a tribute to his father, who died that year. The next year his overture “Marmion” was first performed. In 1869 he wrote his first oratorio, “The Prodigal son,” in 1873 “The Light of the World,” and in 1880 “The Martyr of Antioch;” the first for the Worcester, the second for the Birmingham, and the third for the Leeds festival. The beautiful “Overture di Ballo,” so frequently played in this country by the Thomas orchestra, was written for Birmingham in 1870, and the next year appeared his brilliant little cantata, “On shore and Sea.” On the 11th of May, 1867, was first heard in public his comic operetta, “Cox and Box.” It was the first in that series of extraordinary successes, really dating from “The Sorcerer,” which are almost without parallel in the operatic world, and which have made his name, and that of his collaborator, Gilbert, household words. He has done much for sacred as well as secular music. In addition to his oratorios he has written numerous anthems, forty-seven hymn tunes, two Te Deums, several carols, part-songs, and choruses, and in 1872 edited the collection of “Church Hymns with Tunes” for the Christian Knowledge Society. His latest works are the opera “Ruddygore” and the cantata “The Golden Legend,” both written in 1886. He received the honorary degree of Doctor of Music from Cambridge in 1876, and from Oxford in 1879, and in 1883 was knighted by the Queen.

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On Shore and Sea.

The cantata “On Shore and Sea” was written for the London International Exhibition of 1871. The solo parts are allotted to La Sposina, a Riviera woman, and Il Marinajo, a Genoese sailor. The action passes in the sixteenth century, at a port of the Riviera and on board of a Genoese and Moorish galley at sea. The cantata opens with a joyous sailors’ chorus and the lament of the mothers and wives as the seamen weigh anchor and set sail. The scene then changes to the sea. On board one of the galleys, in the midnight watch, the Marinajo invokes the protection of Our Lady, Star of the Sea, for the loved one left behind. The scene next changes to the return of the fleet, triumphant in its encounters with the Moorish vessels. The women throng to the shore, headed by La Sposina, to welcome the sailors back, but the galley on board which her lover served is missing. It has been captured by the Moors, and in a pathetic song she gives expression to her sorrow. In the next scene we find him toiling at the oar at the bidding of his Moorish masters. While they are revelling he plans a rising among his fellow-captives which is successful. They seize the galley and steer back to the Riviera, entering port amid choruses of rejoicing. The cantata is full of charming melodies, the instrumentation is Oriental in color, and the choruses, particularly the closing ones, are very stirring.

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The Golden Legend.

“The Golden Legend” was first produced at the Leeds Musical Festival, Oct. 16, 1886. The story of the legend has already been told in the description of Mr. Buck’s cantata by the same name, which took the Cincinnati Festival prize in 1880. The adaptation of Mr. Longfellow’s poem for the Sullivan cantata was made by Joseph Bennett, who while omitting its mystical parts, except the prologue, has confined himself to the story of Prince Henry and Elsie. All the principal scenes, though sometimes rearranged to suit the musical demands of the composer, have been retained, so that the unity of the legend is preserved.

The prologue, representing the effort of Lucifer and the spirits of the air to tear down the cathedral cross, is used without change. The part of Lucifer is assigned to the barytone voice, the spirits of the air to the sopranos and altos, and the bells to the tenors and basses, the whole closing with the Gregorian Chant. The orchestral accompaniment is very realistic, particularly in the storm music and in the final number, where the organ adds its voice to the imposing harmony. The first scene opens with the soliloquy of Prince Henry in his chamber (“I cannot sleep”), followed by a dramatic duet with Lucifer, describing the temptation, and closes with a second solo by the Prince, accompanied by a warning chorus of angels. The second scene [336] opens before the cottage of Ursula at evening, with a short alto recitative (“Slowly, slowly up the Wall”) with pastoral accompaniment, followed by a very effective choral hymn (“O Gladsome Light”) sung by the villagers ere they depart for their homes, the Prince’s voice joining in the Amen. The remainder of the scene includes a dialogue between Elsie and her mother, in which the maid expresses her determination to die for the Prince, and a beautiful prayer (“My Redeemer and my Lord”) in which she pleads for strength to carry out her resolution, closing with her noble offer to the Prince, which he accepts, the angels responding Amen to the blessing he asks for her.

The third scene opens with Elsie, the Prince, and their attendants on the road to Salerno where the cure is to be effected by her sacrifice. They fall in with a band of pilgrims, among whom is Lucifer in the disguise of a monk. The two bands part company, and as night comes on the Prince’s attendants encamp near the sea. The continuity of the narrative is varied by a simple, graceful duet for the Prince and Elsie (“Sweet is the Air with budding Haws”); the Gregorian music of the pilgrims in the distance (“Cujus clavis lingua Petri”); the mocking characteristic song of Lucifer (“Here am I too in the pious Band”), interwoven with the chant; the song of greeting to the sea by the Prince (“It is the Sea”); and a very effective solo for Elsie (“The Night is calm and cloudless”), which is repeated by full chorus with soprano obligato dwelling [337] upon the words “Christe Eleison.” The fourth scene opens in the Medical School at Salerno, and discloses Lucifer disguised as the physician Friar Angelo, who receives Elsie and takes her into an inner apartment, notwithstanding the protests of the Prince, who suddenly resolves to save her, and finally effects her rescue. The music to this scene is very dramatic, and it also contains a short but striking unaccompanied chorus (“O Pure in Heart”).

The fifth scene is short. It passes at the door of Ursula’s cottage, where a forester brings the mother the news of Elsie’s safety and of the Prince’s miraculous cure. The dialogue is followed by a prayer of thanksgiving (“Virgin, who lovest the Poor and Lowly”). The last scene opens on the terrace of the castle of Vautsberg. It is the evening of the wedding day, and amid the sound of bells heard in the distance the Prince relates to Elsie the story of Charlemagne and Fastrada, at the close of which the happy pair join in an exultant duet. The cantata ends with a choral epilogue, worked up to a fine fugal climax in which Elsie’s “deed divine” is compared to the mountain brook flowing down from “the cool hills” to bless “the broad and arid plain.”

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WAGNER.

Richard Wagner, who has been sometimes ironically called the musician of the future, and whose music has been relegated to posterity by a considerable number of his contemporaries, was born at Leipsic, May 22, 1813. After his preliminary studies in Dresden and Leipsic, he took his first lessons in music from Cantor Weinlig. In 1836 he was appointed musical director in the theatre at Magdeburg, and later occupied the same position at Königsberg. Thence he went to Riga, where he began his opera “Rienzi.” He then went to Paris by sea, was nearly shipwrecked on his way thither, and landed without money or friends. After two years of hard struggling he returned to Germany. His shipwreck and forlorn condition suggested the theme of “The Flying Dutchman,” and while on his way to Dresden he passed near the castle of Wartburg, in the valley of Thuringia, whose legends inspired his well-known opera of “Tannhäuser.” He next removed to Zurich, and about this time appeared “Lohengrin,” his most popular [339] opera. “Tristan and Isolde” was produced in 1856, and his comic opera, “Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg,” three years later. In 1864 he received the patronage of King Louis of Bavaria, which enabled him to complete and perform his great work, “Der Ring der Nibelungen.” He laid the foundation of the new theatre at Baireuth in 1872, and in 1875 the work was produced, and created a profound sensation all over the musical world. “Parsifal,” his last opera, was first performed in 1882. His works have aroused great opposition, especially among conservative musicians, for the reason that he has set at defiance the conventional operatic forms, and in carrying out his theory of making the musical and dramatic elements of equal importance, and employing the former as the language of the latter in natural ways, has made musical declamation take the place of set melody, and swept away the customary arias, duets, quartets, and concerted numbers of the Italian school, to suit the dramatic exigencies of the situations. Besides his musical compositions, he enjoys almost equal fame as a littérateur, having written not only his own librettos, but four important works,—“Art and the Revolution,” “The Art Work of the Future,” “Opera and Drama,” and “Judaism in Music.” His music has made steady progress through the efforts of such advocates as Liszt, Von Bülow, and Richter in Germany, Pasdeloup in France, Hueffer in England, and Theodore Thomas in the United States. In 1870 he married Frau Cosima von Bülow, the [340] daughter of Liszt,—an event which produced almost as much comment in social circles as his operas have in musical. He died during a visit to Venice, Feb. 13, 1883.

Love Feast of the Apostles.

“Das Liebesmahl der Apostel” (“The Love Feast of the Apostles”), a Biblical scene for male voices and orchestra, dedicated to Frau Charlotte Emilie Weinlig, the widow of the composer’s old teacher, was written in 1843, the year after “Rienzi,” and was first performed in the Frauen-Kirche in Dresden at the Men’s Singing Festival, July 6 of that year.

The work opens with a full chorus of Disciples (“Gegrüsst seid, Brüder, in des Herren Namen”), who have gathered together for mutual help and strength to endure the persecutions with which they are afflicted. The movement flows on quietly, though marked by strong contrasts, for several measures, after which the chorus is divided, a second and third chorus taking up the two subjects, “Uns droht der Mächt’gen Hass,” and “O fasst Vertrau’n,” gradually accelerating and working up to a climax, and closing pianissimo (“Der Mächt’gen Späh’n verfolgt uns überall”).

In the next number the Apostles enter (twelve bass voices) with a sonorous welcome (“Seid uns gegrüsst, ihr lieben Brüder”), reinforced by the [341] Disciples, pianissimo (“Wir sind versammelt im Namen Jesu Christi”), the united voices at last in powerful strains (“Allmächt’ger Vater, der du hast gemacht Himmel und Erd’ und Alles was darin”) imploring divine help and the sending of the Holy Ghost to comfort them. At its close voices on high are heard (“Seid getrost, ich bin euch nah, und mein Geist ist mit euch”). The Disciples reply with increasing vigor (“Welch Brausen erfüllt die Luft”). The Apostles encourage them to steadfast reliance upon the Spirit (“Klein müthige! Hört an was jetzt der Geist zu Künden uns gebeut”), and the work comes to a close with a massive chorale (“Denn ihm ist alle Herrlichkeit von Ewigkeit zu Ewigkeit”), worked up with overpowering dramatic force, particularly in the instrumentation. Though but a small composition compared with the masterpieces for the stage which followed it, it is peculiarly interesting in its suggestions of the composer’s great dramatic power which was to find its fruition in the later works from his pen.

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WEBER.

Carl Maria von Weber was born Dec. 18, 1786, at Eutin, and may almost be said to have been born on the stage, as his father was at the head of a theatrical company, and the young Carl was carried in the train of the wandering troupe all over Germany. His first lessons were given to him by Henschkel, conductor of the orchestra of Duke Friedrich of Meiningen. At the age of fourteen he wrote his first opera, “Das Waldmädchen,” which was performed several times during the year 1800. In 1801 appeared his two-act comic opera, “Peter Schmoll and his Neighbors,” and during these two years he also frequently played in concerts with great success. He then studied with the Abbé Vogler, and in his eighteenth year was engaged for the conductorship of the Breslau opera. About this time appeared his first important opera, “Rubezahl.” At the conclusion of his studies with Vogler he was made director of the opera at Prague. In 1816 he went to Berlin, where he was received with the highest marks of popular esteem, and thence to [343] Dresden as hofcapellmeister. This was the most brilliant period in his career. It was during this time that he married Caroline Brandt, the actress and singer, who had had a marked influence upon his musical progress, and to whom he dedicated his exquisite “Invitation to the Dance.” The first great work of his life, “Der Freischütz,” was written at this period. Three other important operas followed,—“Preciosa,” “Euryanthe,” the first performance of which took place in Vienna in 1823, and “Oberon,” which he finished in London and brought out there. Weber’s last days were spent in the latter city, and it was while making preparations to return to Germany, which he longed to see again, that he was stricken down with his final illness. On the 4th of June, 1826, he was visited by Sir George Smart, Moscheles, and other musicians who were eager to show him attention. He declined to have any one watch by his bedside, thanked them for their kindness, bade them good-by, and then turned to his friend Fürstenau, and said, “Now let me sleep.” These were his last words. The next morning he was found dead in his bed. He has left a rich legacy of works besides his operas,—a large collection of songs, many cantatas (of which the “Jubilee” and “Kampf und Sieg” are the finest), some masses, of which that in E flat is the most beautiful, and several concertos, besides many brilliant rondos, polaccas, and marches for the piano.

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Jubilee Cantata.

The “Jubilee Cantata” was written in 1818 to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the reign of King Friedrich August of Saxony. The King having expressed a desire that there should be a court concert on the day of the anniversary, September 20, Count Vitzthum commissioned Weber to write a grand jubilee cantata. The poet Friedrich Kind supplied the words. While engaged in its composition Weber was informed by friends that other arrangements were being made for the concert, and on the 12th of September the information was confirmed by a letter from the Count which informed him that notwithstanding his personal protests, the Jubilee Cantata was not to be given. The son in his biography of his father intimates that the change was the result of intrigues on the part of his Italian rivals, Morlacchi, Zingarelli, and Nicolini. The same authority says that the cantata was finally produced in the Neustadt church for the benefit of the destitute peasantry in the Hartz mountains, Weber himself conducting the performance, and that only the overture to the work, now famous the world over as the “Jubel,” was played at the court concert. The best authorities, however, now believe that the Jubel overture is an entirely independent work, having no connection with the cantata. The text of the cantata, which commemorates many special events in the life of the King, being found unsuitable for general performance, a second text [345] was subsequently written by Amadeus Wendt, under the title of “Ernte-Cantata” (“Harvest Cantata”) which is the one now in common use, although still another version was made under the name of “The Festival of Peace,” by Hampdon Napier, which was used at a performance in London under the direction of the composer himself only a few days before his death.

The cantata is written for the four solo voices, chorus, and orchestra. It opens after a short allegro movement with a full jubilant chorus (“Your thankful Songs upraise”), the solo quartet joining in the middle part with chorus. The second number is a very expressive recitative and aria for tenor (“Happy Nation, still receiving”). The third is characterized by quiet beauty, and is very devotional in spirit. It begins with a soprano recitative and aria (“Yet not alone of Labor comes our Plenty”), leading up to a second recitative and aria (“The gracious Father hears us when we call”), which are very vivacious in style, closing with a tenor recitative (“The Air is mild and clear and grateful to the Reapers”). These prepare the way for a short but very powerful chorus (“Woe! see the Storm-Clouds”). In the next number (“How fearful are the Terrors Nature brings”) the bass voice moralizes on the powers of Nature, followed by a plaintive strain for two sopranos, which leads up to a majestic prayer for chorus (“Lord Almighty, full of Mercy”). A bass recitative (“Lo, once our Prayer”) introduces a beautiful quartet and chorus of thanksgiving [346] (“Wreathe into Garlands the Gold of the Harvest”). They are followed by a tenor recitative and soprano solo (“Soon noble Fruit by Toil was won”), and the work comes to a close with a stately chorus of praise (“Father, reigning in Thy Glory”).

Kampf und Sieg.

In June, 1815, Weber arrived in Munich and during his stay made the acquaintance of Fraulein Wohlbrück, the singer, which led to an introduction to her father, who was both an actor and a poet. On the very day that he met Wohlbrück, the news came to Munich of the victory of the Allies at Waterloo, the whole city was decorated and illuminated, and a great crowd, Weber with them, went to St. Michael’s Church to listen to a Te Deum. While there the idea of a grand cantata in commemoration of the victory came into his mind. On his return home he met Wohlbrück and communicated his purpose to him. The enthusiastic poet agreed to furnish the words. About the first of August the text was placed in Weber’s hands, and he at once set it to music. It was first produced on the 22d of December at Prague, and made a profound impression by its stirring military character and vivid battle-descriptions.

The cantata is written for the four solo voices, chorus of sopranos, altos, two tenors, and basses and orchestra. A stirring orchestral introduction leads up to a people’s chorus which describes the [347] disappearance of dissensions heralding the approach of victory. No. 3 is a bass solo entitled “Faith,” with a delightful violoncello accompaniment. In No. 4, Love (soprano) and Hope (tenor) join with Faith in a song full of feeling. No. 5 is a soldiers’ chorus of an enthusiastic and martial character, while in the distance is heard the Austrian Grenadier’s march mingling with it. In the next number the approach of the enemy is heard as the chorus closes with the majestic phrase, “Mit Gott sei unser Werk gethan.” The lively march of the enemy comes nearer and nearer, interwoven with the next chorus, which is set to Körner’s prayer “Wie auch die Hölle braust.” Then follows the opening of the battle, with the roar of cannon, the shouts of the soldiers, and the cries of the wounded, through which is heard the French national air defiantly sounding. Another soldiers’ chorus follows. It pictures the advance of the Prussian Jägers (“Ha! welch ein Klang”), followed by the simple strains of “God save the King!” In No. 9 the fight is renewed, the music reaching a pitch of almost ferocious energy, until the joyous cry is heard, “Hurrah! Er flieht,” and the triumphant march of victory emphasizes the exultant pæan, “Heil dir im Siegerkranz.” The rest of the cantata is purely lyrical in style. Once more the voices of “Faith” and “Love” are heard, leading up to the final majestic chorus, “Herr Gott, Dich loben wir,” accompanying a solo voice chanting the theme “Gieb und erhalte den Frieden der Welt.”

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WHITING.

George Elbridge Whiting was born at Holliston, Mass., Sept. 14, 1842. He began the study of the piano at a very early age, but soon abandoned it for the organ. His progress was so rapid that at the age of thirteen he made his public appearance as a player. In 1857 he went to Hartford, Conn., where he had accepted a position in one of the churches, and while there organized the Beethoven Society. In 1862 he removed to Boston, but shortly afterwards went to England, where he studied the organ for a year with Best. On his return he was engaged as organist of St. Joseph’s Church, Albany, N. Y., but his ambition soon took him to Europe again. This time he went to Berlin and finished his studies with Radecke and Haupt. He then returned to Albany and remained there three years, leaving that city to accept a position at the church of the Immaculate Conception, Boston. In 1874 he was appointed organist at the Music Hall, and was also for some time at the head of the organ department of the New England Conservatory of Music. In [349] 1878 he was organist for the third Cincinnati May Festival, and in 1879 accepted a position in the College of Music in that city, at the same time taking charge of the organ in the Music Hall, with what success those who attended the May Festivals in that city will remember. He remained in Cincinnati three years and then returned to his old position in Boston. Mr. Whiting ranks in the first class of American organists, and has also been a prolific composer. Among his vocal works are a mass in C minor (1872); mass in F minor (1874); prologue to Longfellow’s “Golden Legend” (1873); cantatas, “Dream Pictures” (1877), “The Tale of the Viking” (1880); a concert overture (“The Princess”); a great variety of organ music, including “The Organist,” containing twelve pieces for that instrument, and “the First Six Months on the Organ,” with twenty-five studies; several concertos, fantasies, and piano compositions, and a large number of songs.

The Tale of the Viking.

“The Tale of the Viking” was written in competition for the prize offered by the Cincinnati Musical Festival Association in 1879, and though unsuccessful, is still regarded as one of the most admirable and scholarly works yet produced in this country. The text of the cantata is Longfellow’s “Skeleton in Armor,” that weird and stirring story [350] of the Viking, which the poet so ingeniously connected with the old mill at Newport.

The work comprises ten numbers, and is written for three solo voices (soprano, tenor, and barytone), chorus, and orchestra. A long but very expressive overture, full of the dramatic sentiment of the poem, prepares the way for the opening number, a short male chorus:—

Next comes a powerful chorus for mixed voices (“Then from those cavernous Eyes”), which leads up to the opening of the Viking’s story (“I was a Viking old”), a barytone solo, which is made very dramatic by the skilful division of the song between recitative and the melody. In the fourth number the male chorus continues the narrative (“But when I older grew”), describing in a vivacious and spirited manner the wild life of the marauders on the sea and their winter wassails as they told the Berserker legends over their cups of ale. In the fifth the soprano voice tells of the wooing of “The blue-eyed Maid” in an aria (“Once, as I told in Glee”) remarkable for its varying shades of expression. At its close a brilliant march movement, very [351] sonorous in style and highly colored, introduces a vigorous chorus (“Bright in her Father’s Hall”), which describes the refusal of old Hildebrand to give his daughter’s hand to the Viking. A dramatic solo for barytone (“She was a Prince’s Child”) pictures the flight of the dove with the sea-mew, which is followed by a chorus of extraordinary power as well as picturesqueness (“Scarce had I put to Sea”), vividly describing the pursuit, the encounter, and the Viking’s escape with his bride. A graceful but pathetic romance for tenor (“There lived we many Years”), which relates her death, and burial beneath the tower, leads to the closing number, a soprano solo with a full stately chorus, admirably worked up, picturing the death of the Viking, who falls upon his spear, and ending in an exultant and powerful burst of harmony, set to the words:—

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