Chapter VII: The Great Oblation (2)

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

Mary Magdalen.

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

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

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

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

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

MENDELSSOHN.

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

The Walpurgis Night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Now May again
Breaks winter's chain,
The buds and bloom are springing;
No snow is seen,
The vales are green,
The woodland choirs are singing!
Yon mountain height
Is wintry white;
Upon it we will gather,--
Begin the ancient holy rite;
Praise our Almighty Father."

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

"Know ye not a deed so daring
Dooms us all to die despairing?
Know ye not it is forbidden
By the edicts of our foemen?"

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

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

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

"Restrained by might
We now by night
In secret here adore Thee.
Still it is day
Whene'er we pray,
And humbly bow before Thee.
Thou canst assuage
Our foemen's rage
And shield us from their terrors.
The flame aspires!
The smoke retires!
Thus clear our faith from errors!
Our customs quelled,
Our rights withheld,
Thy light shall shine forever."

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

"Help, my comrades! see a legion
Yonder comes from Satan's region!
See yon group of witches gliding
To and fro in flames advancing;
Some on wolves and dragons riding,
See, ah, see them hither prancing!
What a clattering troop of evil!
Let us, let us quickly fly them!
Imp and devil
Lead the revel;
See them caper,
Wrapt in clouds of lurid vapor."

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

[30] His sister.

Antigone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oedipus at Colonos.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As the Hart Pants.

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

The Gutenberg Fest-Cantata.

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

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

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

Lauda Sion.

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

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

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

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

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

'Ecce panis angelorum'--

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

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

MOZART.

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

King Thamos.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Davidde Penitente.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Masonic Cantatas.

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

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

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

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