Part 33

Exactly the same characteristic form of musical representation which is peculiar to Handel's operas constitutes, in a still greater degree, the essence of his oratorios. From an external point of view the oratorios stand higher, because they are produced with so much richer musical resources and because, in order to employ these properly, a much higher order of art is required. The chorus, which was almost wholly excluded from the operas, is here made use of in manifold ways, taking at least equal rank with the solo-song, while it often predominates. But the inner worth of the oratorio is greater, because in this we are no longer concerned with transient emotions, confined to a narrow circle of fictitious personages, who, in their totality, are indifferent to us, but with the feelings aroused by momentous events in the world's history, by the deeds and sorrows of great men and women, by legends full of the deepest symbolism, by lofty, divine decrees, extending even to the life, sufferings and resurrection of Christ, the son of God. The mighty choruses in Handel's oratorios took a powerful hold upon his contemporaries, to whom they appeared in the light of something wholly new. His Italian predecessors were more or less wanting in that sense of the sublime which caused Handel to seize upon such material as demanded the full co-operation of a large body of singers, and in this very direction was displayed most strikingly the immense superiority of his genius and his strength as an artist. The imposing array of figures which he leads before us in his choral pictures is astounding. From the simplest choral melodies, like the songs of victory in "Saul" and in "Judas Maccabaeus," to the gigantically towering, yet easily animated masses of the chorus in "Israel in Egypt," they stand forth, exuberant in strength, overpowering in the impression they produce, but at the same time simple and easily understood, as if they were created by the power of Nature herself. And in the case of these choruses again, the equipment and co-operation of the orchestra are limited, the principal task devolving here also upon the singers. With Bach the effect consists in the complete blending of organ, chorus, and orchestral tone. The hearer must be conscious neither of those who sing nor those who play; the incorporeal essence of melody floats through the spaces of the church. In listening to Handel's choruses, one rejoices in the consciousness that it is human beings who are singing. Their tones are like the voice of a victorious army, of nations blessed by God, of all sympathetic humanity. The greater the number of people united in the expression of an emotion, the less of his individualism does each retain. An oratorio chorus, however marked its character, can still express only feelings of a strong and simple nature. Joy and sorrow! So far as the meaning of a piece of music can be interpreted, these two words paraphrase the utterances of Handel's choruses. Both are to be understood in their fullest significance; joy, from the bright, childish enjoyment of life, to the tumultuous bursts of exultation after victory won, from pious adoration to enthusiastic soaring up to God; sorrow, both as quiet sadness and deep, intensest mourning. But it is always one of these two emotions, which resounds full and clear. Mixtures of the two, such as often occur with Bach, are almost never found in Handel's music.

In the last century, the opinion became fully established that Handel was pre-eminently great in choral music, and, as there was a sudden revolution of taste at this time in the line of solo-song, his arias and glorious recitatives were thrown into the shade. But the only way in which it is possible to be just to the composer, is to acknowledge the latter as well as the former, to be necessary for the completeness of the _ensemble_, and dependent upon each other for their effect. Since the greater number of Handel's oratorios are biblical in subject, and since from the beginning a certain edificatory purpose was associated with this order of work, a strong desire prevailed in Germany to class them as church music. But to do this is to thrust them out of the free and elevated position which they rightfully hold. In them the distinction between the worldly and the ecclesiastical is done away with, nor could they with propriety be designated as religious in character, for, besides his biblical material, Handel has also employed for his compositions profane history (Alexander Balus), ancient mythology (Heracles, Semele, Acis and Galatea), legendary subjects (Theodora), and pure description (Alexander's Feast; Allegro and Pensieroso). A noble humanity was the ideal of his art, and this he has completely realized in his oratorios. The "Messiah" itself is no exception, but rather crowns them all in this respect.

The characteristic musical style which from this time especially distinguishes the oratorio demands no distinct form of poetry. It is only necessary that events should be presented which are calculated to hold the feelings in a continuous state of excitement. The portrayal of these feelings by means of music can, however, just as well be accomplished with a narrative text, as in "Israel," a descriptive, as in the "Allegro," or with one which only _indicates_ events, like the "Messiah," as with a poem in dramatic form. The latter is most frequently employed by Handel and is particularly adapted to solo-song; still he would by no means consent to have his oratorios regarded as real musical dramas, otherwise it would have been easy for him to produce them on the stage with full action. He objected to this, because a theatrical representation seemed to him more likely to diminish than to increase their effect, by diverting the attention from what was to him of still more importance in the oratorio than in the opera--the working of pure music.

It was a long time before Handel's oratorios became naturalized in his native country. The facilities for presenting them were wanting; in the small private musical societies, which existed here at that time, there was not room for works of such gigantic growth. But the centennial anniversary, erroneously celebrated in England in 1784 and repeated in 1785, with its productions of Handel's works on a previously unheard-of scale, aroused in the German people a spirit of emulation. In 1786, 1787 and 1788, Johann Adam Hiller organized in Berlin, Leipsic, and Breslau great performances of the "Messiah," which created a profound impression. The _Singakademie_ founded in Berlin in 1791 proceeded to occupy itself diligently with Handel, and on the model of this there soon arose a number of choral societies, which did the same thing. After the year 1810 great musical festivals began to be held, and it was not long before Handel's oratorios constituted their principal material. At the most important of these, the Rhenish, which was established in 1818, thirty-four oratorios, or other great choral compositions of Handel, were given in the course of forty-four performances. But as yet, it must be said, full justice has only been done to the choruses of these great works; for an adequate rendering of the solo portions, the vocal culture of our time is not yet sufficient.

Several attempts at a complete edition of Handel's works have been already made; two of these were in England, in 1784 and 1840 respectively, but both were failures. On the occasion of the one hundredth anniversary of the composer's death, in the year 1859, the German Handel Society was founded for the express purpose of finally accomplishing the desired result. The editor of the edition is Friedrich Chrysander, and the work, intended to consist of one hundred volumes, is approaching completion. For the first time, all the operas are here published in connection with the oratorios. The inestimable service rendered by Chrysander is not, however, limited to this task. He is also the author of a biography of Handel (Leipsic, Breitkopf und Härtel), which far surpasses all earlier works upon this subject and may be reckoned among the best productions of our century, in the line of scientific musical literature.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 3: To the latter Charles Jennings had appended verses forming a third part: "_Il moderato_."]

CHRISTOPH WILIBALD GLUCK

Poetry and Music, gracious twin-sisters sent from Heaven to comfort suffering humanity, are seldom intimately united in the history of Art; it may even be affirmed that the story of their evolution presents a picture of ceaseless struggle in which the one is ever striving for mastery over the other. Although these sister-arts (neither of which can claim the right of primogeniture) at the time of the highest development of Greek art displayed in united action an inconceivable power which has never since been attained, they were compelled after a brief period, with the rise of sophistic philosophy, to descend from that lofty position. While language and music were developed as separate arts it was indeed possible for them individually to reach a state of perfection, but the efficiency subsequently attained by united strength and harmonious coalescence was then impossible.

In like manner in the Middle Ages poetry and music strove for supremacy. After the solemn melodies of St. Gregory, linked so closely with the words, had comforted, inspired and sustained the Western World in a time of her deepest abasement, song, which had been hitherto for one voice, developed into polyphony, and with this mighty advance in music the friendly relations between these arts was once more disturbed. In the joy at overcoming difficulties which part-music offered the composers as well as the singers, the former completely lost sight of their duty toward the words, and were so utterly indifferent to the text of vocal work that they did not hesitate to use in the same piece two poems upon quite different subjects, yes, even in different languages, and in so doing argued, and not without reason, that in the intricacy of the vocal parts the words would scarcely be heard.

At the appearance of the modern opera in the year 1600, the struggle of the two sister-arts was especially severe. Even as proposed by its founders, who saw in it a revival of the antique drama, poets and composers, during the first decades, were eager to coöperate. When, however, the passion for the opera was no longer confined to the circle of the aristocracy, when special buildings had been erected to which the public could gain access for a consideration (the "Cassiano" in Venice, in 1637, being the first), the noble simplicity striven for by those lovers of antiquity came to an end. The popular craving for the spectacular and the desire for music which was pleasing to the ear strongly affected the further growth of the opera. In Italy, which country in the course of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries set the fashion for all Europe in operatic and musical matters, the public was especially enthusiastic over strong, well-trained voices. No matter how high the point of perfection reached by the art of singing, the singers, male and female, received but one-sided recognition. Soon these obtained undisputed control of the opera; in order to please the taste of the masses, directors, even poets and composers felt obliged to surrender. For them only was the libretto arranged, and in order to satisfy their vanity did the composer tax his imagination. In vain did truly artistic men--among them the Venetian composer Benedetto Marcello with his satire "Il teatro alla moda" (1720)--raise their voices against "the mighty abuse of music at the cost of the sister-arts," their warning words fell unheeded. It was reserved for a German, after a desperate struggle, to put an end to the nuisance of the singers' sovereignty and to give once more to the opera a truly artistic significance, and this German was Gluck.

Christoph Wilibald Gluck was born on the 2d of July, 1714, at Weidenwang, a village of the Caprische Obersalz. He was the son of a forester, and in childhood had occasion to steel himself bodily and mentally for the warfare which in later years was waged against the power of fashion and prejudice. When an old man, the master in friendly converse loved to recall those early days when he and his brother followed their father barefoot to the forest. Dreaming in the shadows of the woods, listening to the rustling of the tree-tops and the songs of birds, unconsciously a sense of music was awakened in the boy; there was no indication of any special gift, however, and indeed, had such been shown, under the circumstances it would hardly have been encouraged, for the father was extremely practical and governed the education of his children accordingly. The desire to give them a better education than was possible in the vicinity of Weidenwang may have occasioned his moving to Bohemia in 1722 and entering the service, first of Prince Kindsky and then of Prince Lobwitz. Mention may also be made here of a third office held by him upon the Bohemian possessions of the Grand Duke of Tuscany, in whose service he died in 1747.

In the schools of the little towns of Kamitz and Eisenberg, which henceforth became the homes of the family of Gluck, the young Christoph found his first inspiration, for in all Catholic countries the scholars were obliged to take part in the musical part of the service and received not only the necessary vocal instruction, but instrumental as well; and it is said the boy played both violin and violoncello with passable skill. Beyond this, the schooling was so superficial that his father placed him, in 1726, at the Jesuit College at Kommatau (Bohemia). That the Jesuits are most thorough in their instruction is well known; but whether the blind obedience and abject slavery exacted of the scholars in the name of "a true Church" is calculated to develop mind and character successfully, seems doubtful. Gluck's strength of character through life shows that the pernicious influence of the Jesuitical teaching had no serious effect upon his nature. Among the advantages derived from his sojourn in Kommatau, the instruction received upon the piano and organ is of the greatest importance.

Yet violin and violoncello were still his favorite instruments; they were his comfort and support during years of study and wandering, for from his slender income the father could but partially pay for his son's maintenance. This did not deter Gluck, in 1732, from bravely taking his staff in hand and turning his steps toward Prague that he might be better informed both in music and science. Whether he then contemplated becoming a musician or composer is uncertain; we simply know that in order to make his living he taught the violoncello and singing, and that in church celebrations, notably in those of the Tein Church, under the leadership of the celebrated composer Czernohorsky, he played in the orchestra. In his leisure hours and upon the numerous festival days of the Catholics he did not hesitate to wander to the neighboring villages and by his dance-music and his singing to earn a piece of money or a meal. Toward the end of his sojourn at Prague, however (1736), he had made such strides in music that he ventured his productions in larger cities and before cultured audiences. By his rendering of violoncello music he succeeded in attracting attention in the circles of the aristocracy, and the princely family of Lobkowitz showed him special favor. Under the protection of the influential and enthusiastic prince, Gluck boldly ventured to express a wish to devote himself exclusively to music, and the same year, encouraged by his patron, that he might better accomplish his end he went to Vienna, then the fountain-head of musical activity, where J. J. Fux, Conti and Caldara, musicians of European fame, were at work together.

Unfortunately there are no reliable accounts of Gluck's first stay in Vienna and the nature of his study there, but without doubt his part in the musical life corresponded with the peculiar kind of training he had previously received. An important fact remarked by A. L. Marx ("Gluck und die Oper," I., 20) is that up to this time Gluck had held aloof from the piano, "that curious instrument which is unsatisfactory in every tone, and in melody suffers by comparison with every other, which is yet the blessed parent of creative phantasies and lends itself to rich and ever-varying expression ... which is capable of presenting various melodies simultaneously, grouping independent voices and producing dramatic effect with them; in a word, the only proper polyphonic auxiliary to the dramatic in music." While for all the great masters of the century, for Bach as for Handel, for Mozart as for Beethoven, the piano was the basis of musical education, the lever of their creative power, Gluck confined himself almost exclusively to vocal music and stringed instruments, a significant fact which explains the merits as well as defects in the master's later activity. The freedom and perfect ease with which the aforesaid musicians overcame the difficulties of counterpoint, we miss in Gluck's music, even at the time of maturity; and if it be urged that his musical plans for reform did not allow a development of the art of counterpoint, it may be remarked how little of it he showed in his church compositions. True, he has given us but one work of this kind, which appeared in Paris and later in Leipsic, a "De profundis" which seems, with its frequent but never quite complete examples of polyphony, a convincing proof that Gluck was not wholly familiar with polyphonic expression.

Under these circumstances it may be inferred that Gluck was ill-content in a city where, as chief Kapellmeister at the Court, the greatest master of counterpoint of his time, J. J. Fux, had absolute control of all musical matters. The attraction toward Italy, in which direction the glance of every ambitious musician was turned, must have been, in his case, peculiarly strong, and he therefore received with joy the invitation of Lombardy's Prince Melzi (who had grown to know and prize him in Lobkowitz House) to follow him to Milan, as chamber-musician. This city, as the residence of Sammartini, one of the most celebrated masters of harmony in Italy, afforded him excellent opportunity to make good the defects in his musical education and to become fully acquainted with the secrets of dramatic composition. Giovanni Battista Sammartini (born about 1700, died about 1770) held the position of organist at several churches; he began his career as opera-composer, but subsequently turned his attention to instrumental music and gained high praise from his contemporaries for chamber and orchestral compositions which might rank as forerunners of the quartets and symphonies of Haydn. Under him Gluck studied fully four years, when he ventured bravely before the public, well equipped with the opera "Artaxerxes" (1741), text by Metastasio. The success of this must have been pronounced, as the master, but twenty-eight years of age, immediately received commissions for opera compositions from Milan as well as from other cities of Italy. We know the "Artaxerxes" mainly by hearsay, as the score, together with scores of the operas written later for Milan--"Demofoonte" (1742), "Siface" (1743) and "Fédre" (1743)--was burned in a theatre fire. In his "Studies for Musicians," J. F. Reichardt tells us that "in 'Artaxerxes' Gluck endeavored to depart as much as possible from the broad, well-trodden road of the Italian composers of his time, and to write music more nearly approaching harmonious expression, to which he later owed his imperishable reputation and which, so to speak, he had himself created." In spite of this and similar opinions it is highly improbable that these first works of Gluck exhibited his individuality, for had they done so it would still be apparent when making comparison with the works of his contemporaneous rivals; it is all the more improbable as, for a number of years, he adapted his style to the prevalent taste, and did not materially depart from the stereotyped form of Italian opera.

The position in the musical world secured by Gluck through his first opera, is shown by the fact that he received an order from London for an opera for the Haymarket Theatre. In Paris, where he stopped on the way to England, he may have had a presentiment that here was to be the field of his future activity; in the absence of any detailed account of his stay in the city, we may assume that here he became familiar with the grand opera as created by Lully and perfected by Rameau, which in its nature was infinitely nearer his ideal--distinctly seen later--than the Italian opera. It cannot be said, however, that these first Parisian impressions had an immediate effect on Gluck's artistic methods and mode of expression, inasmuch as his opera "La Caduta dei Giganti," written for London and brought out in the year 1746, was in the prescribed Italian vein. But from the initiated, the "lion's claws" were not hidden. In his "History of Arts," Burney says of an aria: "It is of very peculiar creation but much too monotonous," and of the instrumentation "It is original but drowns the melody;" finally "One wishes the melodies were somewhat more graceful and had more artistic repose." In these criticisms we read between the lines that the composer of "The Overthrow of the Titans" already betrayed his individuality.

Gluck had little reason to be satisfied with his success in London; his opera was given but five times, and though his "Artamene," written for Cremona three years before, was somewhat more popular, this could hardly compensate for the failure of his more recent work. He had no cause to regret his journey to London, however, for here, as in Paris, he gained impressions which materially extended his artistic horizon and were of utmost importance to his development; here, also, he made the acquaintance of Handel and his works. We know that the personal relations of the two masters were friendly, but Handel does not appear to have felt deep sympathy for his younger brother in the art. How could he, who a few years before had broken forever with the opera in order to turn to oratorio, which was better suited to his artistic nature, be other than indifferent to the attempt of this youth to establish the success of the opera? And how could it escape the great master of polyphony that Gluck stood in this art far below him? Handel's terse word that "Gluck understood about as much of counterpoint as his (Handel's) cook," was certainly not intended for publicity, yet it shows so definitely the relations of the masters at this time that it should not be omitted from Gluck's biography. Further than this, we should not consider them opponents in any way. Gluck treated the associate thirty years his senior with utmost deference, and the latter from his experience advised him, in a kindly manner, how to work as opera-composer in order to win the approval of Englishmen.