Part VI., in the form of a brilliant choral fantasia.

"In the first three the Christmas feeling prevails most vividly; this is effected in great measure by the chorales which are interspersed in far greater numbers than in the last three, and which are almost all familiar Christmas hymns. Most of them are simply set in four parts, with highly ingenious applications of the church modes."

The first and second parts close with chorales, but in the third the opening chorus is repeated at the close.

"Part IV. has least of the character of church festival music. The Biblical matter consists of a single verse from the Gospel of Saint Luke, ii. 21, which relates the circumcision and naming of Jesus. Not much material could be worked out of this, and Bach has almost entirely set aside all adjuncts from the liturgy. No Christmas hymn, indeed no true chorale, is introduced in it.... This section, therefore, bears more strongly the stamp merely of a religious composition; it is full of grace and sweetness, and can only have derived its full significance for congregational use from its position in context with the rest of the work."

Parts V. and VI., devoted to the history of the three kings, are in no respect inferior to the first three.

"The lyrical choruses are full of artistic beauty and swing. The cantata character is more conspicuous here than in the first three sections, and the specially Christmas feeling resides more in the general tone of the music than in the chorales."

Bitter, in his life of Bach, gives the following interesting sketch of the origin of some of the numbers contained in the work:--

"In some parts of this music Bach borrowed from former compositions of his own, especially from a 'Drama per Musica,' dedicated to the Queen of Poland, and a drama entitled 'The Choice of Hercules,' composed in 1733 for a Saxon prince. The old hymn-tune, 'O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden,' composed A.D. 1600 (by Hans Geo. Hassler to a secular tune), and used by Bach five times to different words in the 'Matthäus-Passion,' is again used in this oratorio to the words of Paul Gerhard's Advent hymn, 'Wie soll ich dich empfangen,' and to the hymn of triumph, 'Nun seid ihr wohl gerochen,' at the end of the last part. As this tune was familiar to the hearers in connection with a hymn for Passion Week, its adaptation to Advent and Christmas hymns seems intended to express a presentiment at the time of Christ's birth of his future sufferings. The same tune is now used in the German Church to a number of different hymns, especially to 'Herzlich thut mich verlangen' and 'Befiehl du deine Wege,' and is in some tune-books called by one or other of these names. 'Befiehl du deine Wege' is one of the hymns to which Bach has set it in the 'Matthäus-Passion.' In the first part of the oratorio we find two verses of Luther's Christmas hymn, 'Gelobet seist du Jesu Christ;' first, the verse beginning 'Er ist auf Erden kommen arm,' to the tune Luther composed for it, and the verse 'Ach, mein herzliebes Jesulein,' to the tune (also of Luther's composition), 'Von Himmel hoch da komm ich her.' This last-mentioned tune is also used twice in the second part, to the words 'Schaut hin, dort liegt im finstern Stalle,' and 'Wir singen dir in deinem Heer,' arranged differently each time. The chorales, 'Jesus, richte mein Beginnen,' in the fourth part, and 'Dein Glanz all Finsterniss verzehrt,' in the fifth part, are probably Bach's own compositions."

The first two parts of the work are the only ones which need special notice for the purposes of the oratorio-goer. The first part opens with a brilliant prelude, introduced by the drum, which Bach, like Beethoven, sometimes treated as a solo instrument. It preludes the narrative bidding Zion prepare to meet her Lord,--a simple, touching melody, followed by the chorale, "How shall I fitly meet Thee and give Thee welcome due," set to the old passion-hymn, "O Haupt, voll Blut und Wunden,"--a solemn and even mournful melody, which at first appears incongruous in the midst of so much jubilation. It is the same melody which Bach frequently uses in different harmonic forms in his "St. Matthew Passion." It is introduced here in the midst of the Christmas festivity for a special purpose. Bitter gives it the following significance:--

"We see the Angel of Death unveil his pale face, bend over the cradle of the Lord, and foretell his sorrows. The Child hears the song which one day, sung to other words, will be his death-song."

The composer's evident intention was to impress the hearer with the fact that the object of the divine advent on earth was the passion of our Lord. At the close of the work the same chorale appears, but it has another meaning. It is there an exultant expression of Christ's victory over sin and death. As the chorale dies away, the narrative is resumed, leading up to another chorale, "For us to earth he cometh poor," combined with an orchestral symphony and bass recitative. The next number is a bass aria with trumpet accompaniment, "Lord Almighty, King all glorious," and is followed by a chorale set to the words of Martin Luther's Christmas hymn, which also occurs in other parts of the work, differently harmonized to suit the nature of the situation, with which the first part closes.

The second part opens with one of the most delightful instances of Bach's orchestration, a pastoral symphony, with which the Thomas orchestra have made audiences familiar in this country. Like the symphony of the same style in Handel's "Messiah," it is simple, graceful, and idyllic in character, and pictures the shepherds watching their flocks by night on the plains of Bethlehem. At its conclusion the evangelist resumes his narrative, followed by the chorale: "Break forth, O beauteous, heavenly Light," preluding the announcement of the angel, "Behold, I bring you Good Tidings." It is followed by the bass recitative, "What God to Abraham revealed, He to the Shepherds doth accord to see fulfilled," and a brilliant aria for tenor, "Haste, ye Shepherds, haste to meet Him." The evangelist gives them the sign, followed by the chorale which closed the first part, in another form, "Within yon Gloomy Manger lies." The bass recitative, "O haste ye then," preludes the exquisite cradle-song for alto, "Sleep, my Beloved, and take Thy Repose,"--a number which can hardly be excelled in the sweetness and purity of its melody or in the exquisiteness of its instrumentation. This lovely song brings us to the close, which is an exultant shout from the multitude of the heavenly host, singing, "Glory to God in the highest."

The Saint Matthew Passion.

The passion-music of Bach's time, as we have already seen, was the complement of the mysteries of Mediæval days. It portrays the sufferings of Christ, and was performed at church festivals, the congregation taking part in the singing of the chorales, which were mostly familiar religious folk-songs. It was a revival of the sacred drama in musical form, and the immediate precursor of the modern oratorio. Bach wrote five passions,--the "St. John," probably written in 1723, and first performed in the following year; another, which has been lost, in 1725; the "St. Matthew," in 1729; the "St. Mark," in 1731; and the "St. Luke," in 1734. Of these only two are now known,--the "St. John" and "St. Matthew;" of which the latter is incomparably the greatest.

Macfarren, in his sketch of the "Matthew Passion," says that the idea of this form of composition was first suggested to Bach by Solomon Deyling, who filled an important church position in Leipsic when the composer went there to assume his duties as cantor of the St. Thomas School, his purpose being to introduce into the Reformed Church a service which should be a counter attraction to the Mass as performed in the Roman Church. It was produced for the first time at the afternoon service on Good Friday, 1729, but was not heard again until the young Mendelssohn revived it in Berlin, March 12, 1829. It was frequently repeated in Germany and aroused extraordinary enthusiasm, and still keeps its place in the festival oratorio repertory, the necessary additional accompaniments having been furnished by Robert Franz.

The passion is written in two parts, between which the sermon intervened in old times. It includes portions of chapters xxvi. and xxvii. of the Gospel according to Saint Matthew, the remainder of the text being composed of hymns furnished to Bach by Christian Friedrich Henrici, who wrote under the pseudonym of "Picander," and, it is said, was assisted in the compilation by the composer himself. The _dramatis personæ_ are Jesus, Judas, Peter, Pilate, the Apostles, and the People, or _Turbæ_, and the narrative is interpreted by reflections addressed to Jesus, forming two choruses, "The Daughter of Zion" and "The Faithful," as Picander calls them. They are sometimes given by the chorus, and sometimes by single voices. The chorales are selected from those which were in common use in the Lutheran Church, and were familiar therefore to the congregations which sang the melody, the harmony being sustained by the chorus and instruments. The Gospel text is in recitative form throughout, the part of the evangelist, or narrator, being assigned to a tenor voice, while those of the persons incidentally introduced are given to other singers. In the dialogue, wherever the words of Jesus occur, the accompaniment is furnished by a string quartette, which serves to distinguish them from the others, and invests them with a peculiar gentleness and grace. The incidental choruses, sung by the People and the Apostles, are short and vivacious in character, many of them being in madrigal form. The chorales, fifteen in number, as has already been said, were taken from the Lutheran service. One of them, which Bach also liberally used in his "Christmas Oratorio," beginning, "Acknowledge me, my Keeper," appears five times in the progress of the work, forming the keynote of the church sentiment, and differently harmonized on each occasion. Another, "O Blessed Jesus," is twice used,--once where the Saviour announces that he will be crucified after the Feast of the Passover, when the whole congregation sings it, and again in the scene at Gethsemane, sung by select choirs. The whole work is written for double chorus, the two choruses singing the harmony of the chorales, accompanied by the instruments, while the congregation sing the tune in unison. They display to the utmost the breadth, richness, ingenuity, and power of Bach in this form of writing. The reflective portions of the work, the text written by Picander, are composed of arias introduced by recitative, with the first part repeated in the close; of arias accompanied by chorus; and of single choruses constructed in the most massive manner. Speaking of the melodies in these portions of the work, Spitta says,--

"The grades of feeling traversed by Bach in the solo songs of the 'St. Matthew Passion' are all the more impressive because every sentiment of joy in its various shades is wholly excluded; they are all based on the emotion of sorrow. The most fervent sympathy with the sufferings of the Son of Man, rising to the utmost anguish, childlike trustfulness, manly earnestness, and tenderly longing devotion to the Redeemer; repentance for the personal sins that his suffering must atone for, and passionate entreaties for mercy; an absorbed contemplation of the example offered by the sufferings of Jesus, and solemn vows pronounced over his dead body never to forsake or forget him,--these are the themes Bach had to treat. And he has solved the difficult problem as if it were child's play, with that inexhaustible wealth of resource which was most at his command precisely when he had to depict the sadder emotions. In no other of his works (unless it be in the 'Christmas Oratorio') do we find such a store of lovely and various solo airs, nor did Bach even ever write melodies more expressive and persuasive than those of the arias in the 'St. Matthew Passion.'"

As we have said, the music is arranged for double chorus, and each chorus has its own orchestra and its own organ accompaniment. The double orchestra is composed of oboes, flutes, and stringed instruments. Drums and brass instruments are not used, the sentiment of the work, in Bach's estimation, not being fitted for them, sweetness and expressiveness of tone rather than power being required. As Spitta says, sorrow is the characteristic of the work. It has no choruses of rejoicing, no pæans of praise, not even a hallelujah at its close.

The first part opens with a reflection sung by double chorus, "Come, ye Daughters, weep for Anguish," the first exhorting believers to weep over the sinful world, the second responding with brief interrogations, and at last taking part in the sorrowful strains of the first. Interwoven with these is an independent instrumental melody, the whole crowned with a magnificent chorale sung by the sopranos, "O Lamb of God all blameless!" followed by still another, "Say, sweetest Jesus," which reappears in other parts of the work variously harmonized. The double chorus and chorales form the introduction, and are followed by recitative and a chorale, "Thou dear Redeemer," and a pathetic aria for contralto, "Grief and Pain," relating the incident of the woman anointing the feet of Jesus. The next number is an aria for soprano, "Only bleed, Thou dearest Heart," which follows the acceptance by Judas of the thirty pieces of silver, and which serves to intensify the grief in the aria preceding it. The scene of the Last Supper ensues, and to this number Bach has given a character of sweetness and gentleness, though its coloring is sad. As the disciples ask, "Lord, is it I?" another chorale is sung, "'Tis I! my Sins betray me." Recitative of very impressive character, conveying the divine injunctions, leads up to a graceful and tender aria for soprano, "Never will my Heart refuse Thee," one of the simplest and clearest, and yet one of the richest and most expressive, melodies ever conceived. After further recitative and the chorale, "I will stay here beside Thee," we are introduced to the scene in the Garden of Gethsemane, which is characterized by a number of extraordinary beauty and strength in its construction. It is introduced by a short instrumental prelude, Zion, represented by the tenor voice, and the Believers by the chorus, coming in after a few bars and alternating with extraordinary vocal effect. It calls for the highest dramatic power, and in its musical development is a web of wonderful harmonies such as we may look for only in the works of the mighty master of counterpoint. It fitly prepares the way for the two great movements which close the first part, an aria for soprano and alto, "Alas! my Jesus now is taken," and a double chorus, "Ye Lightnings, ye Thunders!" The two solo voices join in a lament of a most touching nature, accompanied by the chorus exclaiming in short, hurried phrases, "Let Him go! Hold! Bind Him not!" until at last the double chorus bursts in like a tempest, accompanied with the full power of the instruments, expressing the world's indignation at the deed which is to be committed, in the words:--

"Ye lightnings, ye thunders, in clouds are ye vanished! Burst open, O fierce flaming caverns of hell! Ingulf them, destroy them in wrathfullest mood! Oh, blast the betrayer, the murderous brood!"

and the first part concludes with a chorale, "O Man, bewail thy great Sin!"

The second part, originally sung after the sermon, opens with an aria for contralto, full of the deepest feeling, "Alas! now is my Jesus gone," and one of the most beautiful numbers in the oratorio, wherein Zion, or the Church, mourns her great loss. The trial scene before Caiaphas and the threefold denial of Peter follow, leading up to the beautiful aria for alto, with violin obligato, "Oh, pardon me, my God!" Macfarren, in his admirable analysis, says of this aria,--

"The deep, deep grief of a tormented conscience finds here an utterance which fulfils the purport and far transcends the expression of the words. One might suppose the power of the artist to have been concentrated upon this one incident, so infinite is its beauty,--one might suppose Bach to have regarded the situation it illustrates as more significant than others of man's relation to Deity in his sense of sin and need for mercy, and as requiring, therefore, peculiar prominence in the total impression the oratorio should convey. If this was his aim, it is all accomplished. The penitential feeling embodied in the song is that which will longest linger in a remembrance of the work. The soft tone of the contralto voice, and the keenness of that of the violin, are accessories to the effect which the master well knew how to handle; but these judicious means are little to be considered in comparison with the musical idea of which they are the adjuncts."

The work now rapidly progresses to its beautiful finale. The soprano recitative in response to Pilate's question, "He hath done only good to all," the aria for soprano, "From love unbounded," the powerful contralto recitative, "Look down, O God," the chorale, "O Head all bruised and wounded!" the contralto aria with chorus, "Look where Jesus beckoning stands," and the peaceful, soothing recitative for bass, "At Eventide, cool Hour of Rest," are the principal numbers that occur as we approach the last sad but beautiful double chorus of the Apostles, "Around Thy Tomb here sit we weeping,"--a close as peaceful as the setting of the sun; for the tomb is but the couch on which Jesus is reposing, and the music dies away in a slumber-song of most exalted beauty. This brief sketch could not better close than with the beautiful description which Mr. Dwight gives of this scene in the notes which he prepared when the work was performed at the Triennial Festival of the Handel and Haydn Society of Boston:--

"How full of grief, of tender, spiritual love, of faith and peace, of the heart's heaven smiling through tears, is this tone-elegy! So should the passion-music close, and not with fugue of praise and triumph like an oratorio. How sweetly, evenly, the harmony flows on,--a broad, rich, deep, pellucid river, swollen as by countless rills from all the loving, bleeding, and believing hearts in a redeemed humanity! How full of a sweet, secret comfort, even triumph, is this heavenly farewell: It is 'the peace which passeth understanding.' 'Rest Thee softly' is the burden of the song. One chorus sings it, and the other echoes 'Softly rest;' then both together swell the strain. Many times as this recurs, not only in the voices, but in the introduction and frequent interludes of the exceedingly full orchestra, which sounds as human as if it too had breath and conscious feeling, you still crave more of it; for it is as if your soul were bathed in new life inexhaustible. No chorus ever sung is surer to enlist the singers' hearts."

The Magnificat in D.

The Magnificat in D--known as the "Great Magnificat," to distinguish it from the smaller--is considered one of the grandest illustrations of Bach's genius. It was composed for Christmas Day, 1723. Spitta says:--

"The performance of the cantata 'Christen, ätzet diesen Tag,' with its attendant 'Sanctus,' took place during the morning service, and was sung by the first choir in the Nikolaikirche. In the evening the cantata was repeated by the same choir in the Thomaskirche; and after the sermon the Hymn of the Virgin was sung, set in its Latin form, and in an elaborate style. For this purpose Bach wrote his great 'Magnificat.'"

For the occasion of this festival he expanded the Biblical text into four vocal numbers; but in describing the work it is only necessary to give it as it is now generally sung.

The work is written for a five-part chorus, with organ and orchestral accompaniment. After a concerted introduction, foreshadowing the general character of the music, it opens with the chorus, "Magnificat anima mea," in fugal form, worked up with that wonderful power of construction for which Bach is so renowned among all composers. It is followed by an aria for second soprano ("Et exultavit spiritus meus: in Deo salutari meo"), which is in the same key and has the same general feeling as the opening chorus, that of Christmas rejoicing. It in turn is followed by an aria for first soprano ("Quia respexit humilitatem ancillæ suæ"), of which Spitta says: "Scarcely ever has the idea of virgin purity, simplicity, and humble happiness found more perfect expression than in this German picture of the Madonna, translated as it were into musical language." It leads directly to the chorus which takes up the unfinished words of the soprano ("Omnes generationes"), each part overlaying the other as it enters, and closing in canon form in grave and colossal harmony. Its next number is an aria for bass ("Quia fecit mihi magna"), of a simple and joyous character. It is followed by a melodious duet for alto and tenor ("Et misericordia"), with violin and flute accompaniment, setting forth the mercy of God, in contrast with which the powerful and energetic chorus ("Fecit potentiam") which succeeds it, is very striking in its effect. Two beautiful arias for tenor ("Deposuit potentes de sede") and alto ("Esurientes implevit bonis") follow, the latter being exquisitely tender in its expression, and lead to the terzetto ("Suscepit Israel puerum suum: recordatus misericordiæ suæ"), arranged in chorale form, and very plaintive and even melancholy in style. Its mourning is soon lost, however, in the stupendous five-part fugue ("Sicut locutus est") which follows it and which leads to the triumphant "Gloria," closing the work,--a chorus of extraordinary majesty and power. Spitta, in his exhaustive analysis of Bach's music, says of this "Magnificat":--

"It is emphatically distinct from the rest of Bach's grand church compositions by the compactness and concentrated power of the separate numbers,--particularly of the choruses,--by the lavish use of the means at command, and by its vividly emotional and yet not too agitating variety. It stands at the entrance of a new path and a fresh period of his productivity, at once full of significance in itself and of promise for the future development of the perennial genius which could always re-create itself from its own elements."

BEETHOVEN.

A general sketch of the life and musical accomplishments of Beethoven has already appeared in the companion to this work, "The Standard Operas." In this connection, however, it seems eminently fitting that some attention should be paid to the religious sentiments of the great composer and the sacred works which he produced. He was a formal member of the Roman Church, but at the same time an ardent admirer of some of the Protestant doctrines. His religious observances, however, were peculiarly his own. His creed had little in common with any of the ordinary forms of Christianity. A writer in "Macmillan's Magazine" some years ago very clearly defined his religious position in the statement that his faith rested on a pantheistic abstraction which he called "Love." He interpreted everything by the light of this sentiment, which took the form of an endless longing, sometimes deeply sad, at others rising to the highest exaltation. An illustration of this in its widest sense may be found in the choral part of the Ninth Symphony. He at times attempted to give verbal expression to this ecstatic faith which filled him, and at such times he reminds us of the Mystics. The following passages, which he took from the inscription on the temple of the Egyptian goddess Neith at Sais, and called his creed, explain this: "I am that which is. I am all that is, that was, and that shall be. No mortal man hath lifted my veil. He is alone by Himself, and to Him alone do all things owe their being." With all this mysticism his theology was practical, as is shown by his criticism of the words which Moscheles appended to his arrangement of "Fidelio." The latter wrote at the close of his work: "_Fine_, with God's help." Beethoven added: "O man! help thyself." That he was deeply religious by nature, however, is constantly shown in his letters. Wandering alone at evening among the mountains, he sketched a hymn to the words, "God alone is our Lord." In the extraordinary letter which he wrote to his brothers, Carl and Johann, he says: "God looks into my heart. He searches it, and knows that love for man and feelings of benevolence have their abode there." In a letter to Bettina von Arnim, he writes: "If I am spared for some years to come, I will thank the Omniscient, the Omnipotent, for the boon, as I do for all other weal and woe." In Spohr's album his inscription is a musical setting of the words, "Short is the pain, eternal is the joy." In a letter to the Archduke Rudolph, written in 1817, he gives no uncertain expression to his divine trust. He says: "My confidence is placed in Providence, who will vouchsafe to hear my prayer, and one day set me free from all my troubles; for I have served him faithfully from my childhood, and done good whenever it was in my power. So my trust is in him alone, and I feel that the Almighty will not allow me to be utterly crushed by all my manifold trials." Even in a business letter he says: "I assure you on my honor--which, next to God, is what I prize most--that I authorized no one to accept commissions from me." His letters indeed abound in references to his constant reliance upon a higher Power. The oratorio, "Christ on the Mount of Olives," six sacred songs set to poems of Gellert, the Mass in C written for Prince Esterhazy, and the Grand Mass in D written for the Archduke Rudolph, one of the grandest and most impressive works in the entire realm of sacred music, attest the depth and fervency of his religious nature.

The Mount of Olives.

Beethoven wrote but one oratorio, "Christus am Oelberg" ("Christ on the Mount of Olives"). That he had others in contemplation, however, at different periods of his life is shown by his letters. In 1809 he wrote to Freiherr von Hammer-Purgstall, a famous Oriental scholar, appointing an interview for the discussion of the latter's poem on the subject of the deluge, with reference to its fitness for treatment as an oratorio. Again, in 1824, he writes to Vincenz Hauschka, of Vienna, that he has decided to write an oratorio on the text furnished by Bernard, the subject being "The Victory of the Cross." This work, however, owing to his extreme physical sufferings at that period, was never begun, and the world thereby has suffered a great musical loss; for, judging from his great Mass in D, no one can doubt how majestic and impressive the "Victory of the Cross" would have been, as compared with the "Mount of Olives," written in his earlier period, and before any of his masterpieces had appeared.

The "Mount of Olives" was begun in 1800, and finished during the following year. Beethoven never remained in Vienna during the summer. The discomforts of the city and his intense love for Nature urged him out into the pleasantly wooded suburbs of the city, where he could live and work in seclusion. Upon this occasion he selected the little village of Hetzendorf, adjoining the gardens of the imperial palace of Schönbrunn, where the Elector, his old patron, was living in retirement. Trees were his delight. In a letter to Madame von Drossdick, he says: "Woods, trees, and rocks give the response which man requires. Every tree seems to say, 'Holy, Holy!'" In the midst of these delightful surroundings he found his favorite tree, at whose base he composed the larger part of the oratorio, as well as his opera "Fidelio." Schindler says: "A circumstance connected with both these great works, and of which Beethoven many years afterwards still retained a lively recollection, was, that he composed them in the thickest part of the wood in the park of Schönbrunn, seated between the two stems of an oak, which shot out from the main trunk at the height of about two feet from the ground. This remarkable tree, in that part of the park to the left of the Gloriett, I found with Beethoven in 1823, and the sight of it called forth interesting reminiscences of the former period." The words of the oratorio were by Huber, the author of Winter's "Unterbrochene Opferfest," and were written, with Beethoven's assistance, in fourteen days. That more time and attention were not given to the text was probably regretted by both poet and composer many times afterwards. The first performance of the work in its entirety took place at Vienna, April 5, 1803, at the Theater an der Wien, upon which occasion the programme also included the Symphony in D (second) and the Piano Concerto in C minor, the latter executed by himself. The oratorio was received with enthusiasm, and was repeated three times during that year.

The libretto of the work is unquestionably defective in the most salient qualities which should characterize the text of an oratorio, even to the degree of extravagance and sensationalism. It fails to reflect the sorrowful character of the scene it depicts, and the dramatic requirements which it imposes are often strained, and sometimes border on the grotesque. The theatrical style of the narrative was deplored by Beethoven himself at a subsequent period. Marx, one of the keenest of critics, says of the work:--

"The poet had no other aim but that of making verses for a composer; the latter, no other motive than the ordinary creative impulse prompting him to try his powers in a different and important sphere. The result on both sides could not therefore be other than phrases, although the better of the two proceeded from the composer, and that composer was Beethoven. To conceal or palliate this would be derogatory to the reverence which we all owe to Beethoven; he stands too high to be in need of extenuation."

This is Marx's judgment; and yet it must be said that the world for the most part has found more in the "Mount of Olives" than he has.

The oratorio is written for three solo voices (Jesus, Peter, and a Seraph), chorus, and orchestra. The narrative opens with the agony in the garden, followed by the chant of a Seraph reciting the divine goodness and foretelling the salvation of the righteous. In the next scene Jesus learns his fate from the Seraph, yields himself to approaching death, and welcomes it. The Soldiers enter in pursuit, and a tumult ensues as the Apostles find themselves surrounded. Peter draws his sword and gives vent to his indignation; but is rebuked both by Jesus and the Seraph, and together they conjure him to be silent and endure whatever may happen. The Soldiers, discovering Jesus, rush upon him and bind him. The Disciples express their apprehension that they too will suffer; but Jesus uncomplainingly surrenders himself, and a chorus of rejoicing completes the work. From this brief sketch the artificial and distorted manner of treating the solemn subject will be evident.

The score opens with an adagio introduction for instruments which is of a very dramatic character, and, unlike nearly all of the sacred music of that time, is noticeable for the absence of the fugue. Barbedette, the great French critic, pronounces it the _chef-d'oeuvre_ of introductions, and a masterpiece in the serious style. The first number is a recitative and aria for tenor, sung by Jesus ("All my Soul within me shudders"), which, notwithstanding the anomaly of such a scene in such surroundings, is simple and touching in expression. The Seraph follows with a scene and aria ("Praise the Redeemer's Goodness"), concluding with a brilliant and jubilant obligato with chorus ("O triumph, all ye Ransomed"). The next number is an elaborate duet between Jesus and the Seraph ("On me then fall Thy heavy Judgment"), which is still more anomalous than the scene and aria with which Jesus opens the work. In a short recitative passage, Jesus welcomes death; and then ensues one of the most powerful numbers in the work, the chorus of Soldiers in march time ("We surely here shall find Him"), interspersed with the cries of the People demanding his death, and the lamentations of the Apostles. At the conclusion of the tumult a dialogue ensues between Jesus and Peter ("Not unchastised shall this audacious Band"), which leads up to the crowning anomaly of the work, a trio between Jesus, Peter, and the Seraph, with chorus ("O, Sons of Men, with Gladness"). The closing number, a chorus of angels ("Hallelujah, God's Almighty Son"), is introduced with a short but massive symphony leading to a jubilant burst of Hallelujah, which finally resolves itself into a glorious fugue, accompanied with all that wealth of instrumentation of which Beethoven was the consummate master. In all sacred music it is difficult to find a choral number which can surpass it in majesty or power.

The English versions of the "Mount of Olives" differ materially from the German in the text. Numerous efforts have been made to avoid the incongruity of the original narrative, but with poor success. It was first produced in England in 1814 by Sir George Smart during the Lenten oratorios at Drury Lane, the English version of which was made by Arnold, at that time manager of the King's Theatre. Still later it was produced again, and the adapter compromised by using the third person, as "'Jehovah, Thou, O Father,' saith the Lord our Saviour." Two other versions were made by Thomas Oliphant and Mr. Bartholomew, but these were not successful. At last the aversion to the personal part of Jesus led to an entirely new text, called "Engedi," the words of which were written by Dr. Henry Hudson, of Dublin, and founded upon the persecution of David by Saul in the wilderness, as described in parts of chapters xxiii., xxiv., and xxvi. of the first book of Samuel. The characters introduced are David, Abishai, and the Prophetess, the latter corresponding to the Seraph in the original. The compiler himself in his preface says:--

"So far as was possible, the author has availed himself of Scripture language, and David's words have been taken (almost wholly) from the Psalms generally attributed to him, though of course not in regular order, as it has invariably throughout been the writer's first object to select words adapting themselves to the original music in its continually varying expression, which could not have been done had he taken any one psalm as his text. How far the author has succeeded, he must leave to others to determine."

The substituted story has not proved successful, principally because the music, which was written for an entirely different one, is not adapted to it. The latest version is that of the Rev. J. Troutbeck, prepared for the Leeds festivals, in which the Saviour is again introduced.

BENNETT.

William Sterndale Bennett, one of the most gifted and individual of English composers, was born at Sheffield, April 13, 1816. His musical genius displayed itself early, and in his tenth year he was placed in the Royal Academy of Music, of which in his later years he became principal. He received his early instruction in composition from Lucas and Dr. Crotch, and studied the piano with Cipriani Potter, who had been a pupil of Mozart. The first composition which gained him distinction was the Concerto in D minor, written in 1832, which was followed by the Capriccio in D minor. During the next three years he produced the overture to "Parisina," the F minor Concerto, and the "Naïades" overture, the success of which was so great that a prominent musical house in London offered to send him to Leipsic for a year. He went there, and soon won his way to the friendship of Schumann and Mendelssohn. With the latter he was on very intimate terms, which has led to the erroneous statement that he was his pupil. In 1840 he made a second visit to Leipsic, where he composed his Caprice in E, and "The Wood Nymphs" overture. In 1842 he returned to England, and for several years was busily engaged with chamber concerts. In 1849 he founded the Bach Society, arranged the "Matthew Passion" music of that composer, as well as the "Christmas Oratorio," and brought out the former work in 1854. The previous year he was offered the distinguished honor of the conductorship of the Gewandhaus concerts at Leipsic, but did not accept. In 1856 he was appointed conductor of the Philharmonic Society, and filled the position for ten years, resigning it to take the head of the Royal Academy of Music. In the same year he was elected musical professor at Cambridge, where he received the degree of Doctor of Music and other honors. In 1858 his beautiful cantata, "The May Queen," was produced at the Leeds Festival, and in 1862 the "Paradise and the Peri" overture, written for the Philharmonic Society. In 1867 his oratorio, or, as he modestly terms it, "sacred cantata," "The Woman of Samaria," was produced with great success at the Birmingham Festival. In 1870 he was honored with a degree by the University of Oxford, and a year later received the empty distinction of knighthood. His last public appearance was at a festival in Brighton in 1874, where he conducted his "Woman of Samaria." He died Feb. 1, 1875, and was buried in Westminster Abbey with distinguished honors. His musical ability was as widely recognized in Germany as in England,--indeed his profound musical scholarship and mastery of problems in composition were more appreciated there. Mr. Statham, in an admirable sketch, pronounces him a born pianist, and says that his wonderful knowledge of the capabilities of the piano, and his love for it, developed into favoritism in some of his concerted music. A friend of the composer, recalling some reminiscences of him in "Fraser," says that his music is full of beauty and expression, displays a remarkable fancy, a keen love of Nature, and at times true religious devotion, but that it does not contain a single note of passion. His only sacred music is the short oratorio, "The Woman of Samaria," and four anthems: "Now, my God, let, I beseech Thee," "Remember now thy Creator," "O that I knew," and "The Fool hath said in his Heart." It has been well said of him: "In his whole career he never condescended to write a single note for popular effect, nor can a bar of his music be quoted which in style and aim does not belong to what is highest in musical art."

The Woman of Samaria.

"The Woman of Samaria," a short, one-part oratorio, styled by its composer a "sacred cantata," was first produced at the Birmingham Festival, Aug. 27, 1867; though one of his biographers affirms that as early as 1843 he was shown a chorus for six voices, treated antiphonally, which Bennett himself informed him was to be introduced in an oratorio he was then contemplating, and that this chorus, if not identical with "Therefore they shall come," in "The Woman of Samaria," is at least the foundation of it.

The work is written for four solo voices, chorus, and orchestra. The soprano takes the part of the Woman of Samaria, the other parts being impersonal. The music for the contralto is mainly declamatory. Tha tenor has a single aria, while the bass, with one exception, has the part of Narrator, the words of our Saviour being attributed to him and invariably introduced in the third personal form,--which is a striking proof of the devotional spirit of the composer, as in all other instances, after the announcement by the Narrator, the Woman sings her own words. The chorus, as in the passion-music of Bach, has the reflective numbers and moralizes on the various situations as they occur, except in one number, "Now we believe," where it declaims the words as a part of the narrative itself. The text for chorus is selected from appropriate parts of the Scriptures which are in keeping with the events forming the groundwork of its reflections.

The story is taken from the fourth chapter of the Gospel according to Saint John, and follows literally the narrative of the journey of the Saviour into Samaria,--his rest at Jacob's well, his meeting with the woman who came thither to draw water, and the conversation which followed; the only interruptions being the reflections, not only by the chorus, but also by the contralto and tenor, these episodes being taken mostly from the Prophecies and Psalms.

The oratorio opens with a brief instrumental introduction and chorale ("Ye Christian People, now rejoice") for sopranos alone, the melody of which first appeared in the "Geistliche Lieder," issued at Wittenberg in 1535. The words are a translation of the old hymn, "Nun freut euch, lieben Christen G'mein," to which the tune was formerly sung in Germany. The treatment of this chorale, by combining it with the instrumental movement in opposing rhythms, shows the powerful influence which the composer's close study of Bach had upon him. Its effect in introducing the scenes which follow reminds one of the grace before the feast. It dies away in slow and gentle numbers, and then follows the opening recitative of the oratorio proper ("Then cometh Jesus to a City of Samaria"), sung by the contralto, and leading up to an arioso chorus ("Blessed be the Lord God of Israel"), the words taken from the Gospel of Saint Luke. The next number is a very graceful and artistic combination, opening with recitative for contralto, bass, and soprano, leading to an adagio solo for bass ("If thou knewest the Gift of God"), and ending with a closely harmonious chorus in the same rhythm ("For with Thee is the Well of Life"), the words from the Psalms. The dialogue between Jesus and the Woman is then resumed, leading to a solo by the latter ("Art Thou greater than our Father Jacob?"). The question is sung and repeated in declamatory tones constantly increasing in power and expressive of defiance. Bennett was a bitter opponent of Wagner; but in the unvocal and declamatory character of this solo, and in the dramatic force he has given to it, to the sacrifice of melody, he certainly ventured some distance in the Wagnerian direction. The next number, the reply of Jesus ("Whosoever drinketh"), sung, as usual, by the bass voice, is in striking contrast with the question. Instead of full orchestra, it has the accompaniment of the strings and first and second horns only, reminding one of Bach's method of accompanying the part assigned to Jesus in his St. Matthew Passion. This number is followed by a spirited fortissimo chorus ("Therefore with Joy shall ye draw Water"), sung to the full strength of voice and orchestra. After the dialogue in which Jesus acquaints the Woman with the incidents of her past life, the contralto voice has an exquisite solo ("O Lord, Thou hast searched me out"), full of tenderness and expression, in which the opening phrase is repeated in the finale and gains intensity by a change of harmony. The dialogue, in which the divine character of Jesus becomes apparent to the Woman, is resumed, and leads to a beautifully constructed chorus in six parts ("Therefore they shall come and sing"), followed by an impressive and deeply devotional quartet for the principals, unaccompanied ("God is a Spirit"),--to which an additional interest is lent from the fact that it was sung in Westminster Abbey upon the occasion of the composer's funeral. A few bars of recitative lead to a chorus in close, solid harmony ("Who is the Image of the Invisible God"), with organ accompaniment only, which in turn, after a few more bars of recitative for contralto and soprano, is followed by the chorus ("Come, O Israel"), sung pianissimo and accompanied by entire orchestra. The next number, as the oratorio is now performed, is one which has been introduced. It is a soprano aria, "I will love Thee, O Lord," which was found among the composer's manuscripts after his death. The preface to the revised edition of the oratorio has the following reference to this number:--

"In justification of so bold a step as the introduction of a new number, it is interesting to point out that the composer felt the Woman of Samaria ought to sing a song of conversion in the portion of the cantata in which the new air is placed. It is clear from the original preface[2] that he thought of her as an impulsive woman who would naturally be carried from worldliness into the opposite extreme of religious devotion."

The introduction of the air also gives more importance to the soprano part and relieves the succession of choral movements in the close of the work. The remaining numbers are the beautiful chorale, "Abide with me, fast falls the Eventide;" the chorus, "Now we believe," one of the most finished in the whole work; a short tenor solo ("His Salvation is nigh them that fear Him"),--the only one in the oratorio for that voice; the chorus, "I will call upon the Lord;" and the final imposing fugue, "Blessed be the Lord God of Israel." The last number is a fitting close to a work which is not only highly descriptive of its subject throughout, but also full of feeling and devotional reverence.

[2] "With regard to the Woman of Samaria herself, it will be plainly seen that the composer has treated her as a secular and worldly character, though not without indications here and there of that strong intuitive religious feeling which has never been denied to her. This feeling is especially shown when she says: 'I know that Messias cometh; when He is come He will tell us all things.' Also, towards the end of the narrative, where she passionately exclaims to the Samaritans: 'Come, see a man who told me all the things that ever I did: is not this the Christ?'"--_Original Preface_.

BERLIOZ.

Hector Berlioz, one of the most renowned of modern French composers, and an acute critic and skilful conductor as well, was born, Dec. 11, 1803, at La Côte St. André, in France. His father was a physician, and intended him for the same profession. He reluctantly went to Paris and began the study of medicine; but music became his engrossing passion, and medicine was abandoned. He entered the Conservatory as a pupil of Lesueur, and soon showed himself superior to all his masters, except Cherubini,--which aroused a strong opposition to him and his compositions. It was only after repeated trials that he took the first prize, with his cantata, "Sardanapale," which entitled him to go to Italy for three years. On his return to Paris he encountered renewed antipathy. His music was not well received, and he was obliged to support himself by conducting at concerts and writing articles for the press. As a final resort he organized a concert tour through Germany and Russia, the details of which are contained in his extremely interesting Autobiography. At these concerts his own music was the staple of the programmes, and it met with great success, though not always played by the best of orchestras, and not always well by the best, as his own testimony shows; for his compositions are very exacting, and call for every resource known to the modern orchestra. The Germans were quick in appreciating his music, but it was not until after his death that his ability was conceded in France. In 1839 he was appointed librarian of the Conservatory, and in 1856 was made a member of the French Academy. These were the only honors he received, though he long sought to obtain a professorship in the Conservatory. A romantic but sad incident in his life was his violent passion for Miss Smithson, an Irish actress, whom he saw upon the Paris stage in the _rôle_ of Ophelia, at a time when Victor Hugo had revived an admiration for Shakspeare among the French. He married her, but did not live with her long, owing to her bad temper and ungovernable jealousy; though after the separation he honorably contributed to her support out of the pittance he was earning. Among his great works are the opera, "Benvenuto Cellini;" the symphony with chorus, "Romeo and Juliet;" "Beatrice and Benedict;" "Les Troyens," the text from Virgil's "Æneid;" the symphony, "Harold in Italy;" the symphony, "Funèbre et Triomphale;" the "Damnation of Faust;" a double chorused "Te Deum;" the "Symphony Fantastique;" the "Requiem;" and the sacred trilogy, "L'Enfance du Christ." Berlioz stands among all other composers as the foremost representative of "programme music," and has left explicit and very detailed explanations of the meaning of his works, so that the hearer may listen intelligently by seeing the external objects his music is intended to picture. In the knowledge of individual instruments and the grouping of them for effect, in warmth of imagination and brilliancy of color, and in his daring combinations and fantastic moods, which are sometimes carried to the very verge of eccentricity, he is a colossus among modern musicians. He died in Paris, March 8, 1869.

The Requiem.

Ferdinand Hiller writes in his "Künstlerleben:" "Hector Berlioz does not belong to our musical solar system; he does not belong to the planets, neither to the large nor to the small. He was a comet, shining far, somewhat eerie to look at, soon again disappearing; but his appearance will remain unforgotten." The Requiem ("Messe des Morts") exemplifies Hiller's words. It is colossal, phenomenal, and altogether unique. It is not sacred, for it never came from the heart. It is not solemn, though it is a drama of death. It is a combination of the picturesque, fantastic, and sublime, in a tone-poem dedicated to the dead.

In 1836 Berlioz was requested by M. de Gasparin, Minister of the Interior, to write a requiem commemorating the victims of the July Revolution; but the work was not given to the public until 1837, when it was sung at the Invalides in memory of General Damremont and the soldiers killed at the siege of Constantina. It was subsequently asserted by Berlioz that Cherubini had conspired with others in the Conservatory to prevent its performance and to secure that of his own, by virtue of the precedence which his position gave him. The charge, however, must have been a mere fancy on his part, as he had already written a letter to Cherubini, saying:--

"I am deeply touched by the noble abnegation which leads you to refuse your admirable Requiem for the ceremony of the Invalides. Be convinced of my heartiest gratitude."

The work embraced ten numbers: I. Requiem and Kyrie ("Requiem æternam dona eis"); II., III., IV., V., and VI., including different motives taken from the hymn, "Dies Iræ;" VII. "Offertorium;" VIII. "Hostias et Preces;" IX. "Sanctus;" X. "Agnus Dei." It will be observed that the composer has not followed the formal sequences of the Mass, and that he has not only omitted some of the parts, but has also frequently taken license with those which he uses. This may be accounted for in two ways. First, he was not of a religious nature. Hiller, in the work already quoted, says of him:

"Of his Catholic education every trace had disappeared. Doubts of all sorts had possession of him, and the contempt of what he called 'prejudice' bordered on the monstrous. Berlioz believed neither in a God nor in Bach."

Second, it is evident from the construction of the work throughout that it was his purpose simply to give free rein to his fancy and to express, even at the risk of being theatrical, the emotions of sublimity, terror, and awe called up by the associations of the subject. This he could not have done with a free hand had he been bound down to the set forms of the Mass.

After a brief but majestic instrumental introduction, the voices enter upon the "Requiem,"--a beautiful and solemn strain. The movement is built upon three melodies set to the words, "Requiem æternam," "Tu decet Hymnus," and the "Kyrie," the accompaniment of which is very descriptive and characteristic. The "Kyrie" is specially impressive, the chant of the sopranos being answered by the tenors and basses in unison, and the whole closing with a dirge-like movement by the orchestra.

The "Dies Iræ" is the most spirited as well as impressive number of the work. It is intensely dramatic in its effects, indeed it might be called theatrical. Berlioz seems to have fairly exhausted the resources of instruments to produce the feeling of awful sublimity and overwhelming power, even to the verge of the most daring eccentricity and, as one prominent critic expressed it, "terrible cataclysms." The first part of the "Dies Iræ" will always be remarkable for the orchestral arrangement. After the climax of the motive, "Quantus tremor est futurus," there is a pause which is significant by its very silence; it is the hush before the storm. Suddenly from either angle of the stage or hall, in addition to the principal orchestra in front, four smaller bands of trombones, trumpets, and tubas crash in with overwhelming power in the announcement of the terrors of the day of judgment. The effect is like that of peal upon peal of thunder. At its culmination the bass voices enter in unison upon the words, "Tuba mirum," in the midst of another orchestral storm, which is still further heightened by an unusual number of kettledrums. From the beginning to the close, this part of the "Dies Iræ" is simply cyclopean; words cannot describe its overwhelming power. It is a relief when the storm has passed over, and we come to the next verse ("Quid sum miser"), for the basses and tenors, though mostly for the first tenors. It is a breathing spell of quiet delight. It is given in the softest of tone, and is marked in the score to be sung with "an expression of humility and awe." It leads to the andante number ("Rex tremendæ majestatis"), which is sung fortissimo throughout, and accompanied with another tremendous outburst of harmonious thunder in crashing chords, which continues up to the last eight bars, when the voices drop suddenly from the furious fortissimo to an almost inaudible pianissimo on the words "Salve me." The next verse ("Quærens me") is an unaccompanied six-part chorus in imitative style, of very close harmony. The "Dies Iræ" ends with the "Lachrymosa," the longest and most interesting number in the work. It is thoroughly melodic, and is peculiarly strengthened by a pathetic and sentimental accompaniment, which, taken in connection with the choral part against which it is set, presents an almost inexhaustible variety of rhythms and an originality of technical effects which are astonishing. Its general character is broad and solemn, and it closes with a return to the "Dies Iræ," with full chorus and all the orchestras. This finishes the "Dies Iræ" section of the work.

The next number is the "Offertorium," in which the voices are limited to a simple phrase of two notes, A alternating with B flat, which is never varied throughout the somewhat long movement. It never becomes monotonous, however, so rich and varied is the instrumentation. The "Hostias et Preces,"--sustained by the tenors and basses, a very solemn and majestic movement,--displays another of Berlioz's eccentricities, the accompaniment at the close of the first phrase being furnished by three flutes and eight tenor trombones, which one enemy of the composer says represents the distance from the sublime to the ridiculous. The "Sanctus," a tenor solo with responses by the sopranos and altos, is full of poetical, almost sensuous beauty, and is the most popular number in the work. It closes with a fugue on the words "Hosanna in Excelsis." The final number is the "Agnus Dei," a chorus for male voices, in which the composer once more employs the peculiar combination of flutes and tenor trombones. In this number he also returns to the music of the opening number, "Requiem æternam," and closes it with an "Amen" softly dying away. Thus ends the Requiem,--a work which will always be the subject of critical dispute, owing to its numerous innovations on existing musical forms and the daring manner in which the composer has treated it.

The following sketch of the first performance of the Requiem, taken from Berlioz's Autobiography, will be found interesting in this connection. It is necessary to preface it with the statement that the director of the Beaux-Arts had insisted that Habeneck should conduct the work. As Berlioz had quarrelled with the old conductor, and had not been on speaking terms with him for three years, he at first refused; but subsequently consented, on condition that he should conduct at one full rehearsal. Berlioz says:--

"The day of the performance arrived in the Church of the Invalides, before all the princes, peers, and deputies, the French press, the correspondents of foreign papers, and an immense crowd. It was absolutely essential for me to have a great success; a moderate one would have been fatal, and a failure would have annihilated me altogether.

"Now, listen attentively.

"The various groups of instruments in the orchestra were tolerably widely separated, especially the four brass bands introduced in the 'Tuba mirum,' each of which occupied a corner of the entire orchestra. There is no pause between the 'Dies Iræ' and 'Tuba mirum,' but the pace of the latter movement is reduced to half what it was before. At this point the whole of the brass enters, first altogether, and then in passages, answering and interrupting, each a third higher than the last. It is obvious that it is of the greatest importance that the four beats of the new tempo should be distinctly marked, or else the terrible explosion which I had so carefully prepared, with combinations and proportions never attempted before or since, and which, rightly performed, gives such a picture of the Last Judgment as I believe is destined to live, would be a mere enormous and hideous confusion.

"With my habitual mistrust, I had stationed myself behind Habeneck, and, turning my back on him, overlooked the group of kettledrums, which he could not see, when the moment approached for them to take part in the general _mêlée_. There are perhaps one thousand bars in my Requiem. Precisely in that of which I have just been speaking, when the movement is retarded and the wind instruments burst in with their terrible flourish of trumpets; in fact, just in _the_ one bar where the conductor's motion is absolutely indispensable,--Habeneck _puts down his baton, quietly takes out his snuffbox_, and proceeds to take a pinch of snuff. I always had my eye in his direction, and instantly turned rapidly on one heel, and, springing before him, I stretched out my arm and marked the four great beats of the new movement. The orchestras followed me each in order. I conducted the piece to the end, and the effect which I had longed for was produced. When, at the last words of the chorus, Habeneck saw that the 'Tuba Mirum' was saved, he said: 'What a cold perspiration I have been in! Without you we should have been lost.' 'Yes, I know,' I answered, looking fixedly at him. I did not add another word.... Had he done it on purpose?... Could it be possible that this man had dared to join my enemy, the director, and Cherubini's friends, in plotting and attempting such rascality? I don't wish to believe it ... but I cannot doubt it. God forgive me if I am doing the man injustice!

"The success of the 'Requiem' was complete, in spite of all the conspiracies--cowardly, atrocious, officious, and official--which would fain have hindered it."

BRAHMS.

Johannes Brahms, one of the most eminent of living German composers, was born at Hamburg, May 7, 1833. His father was a double-bass player in the orchestra in that city, and devoted his son at a very early age to his own profession. His first piano teacher was Cossell; but to Eduard Marxsen, the Royal Music Director, he owes his real success as a composer. Brahms remained in Hamburg until 1853, when he went upon a concert-tour with Reményí, the eccentric and somewhat sensational Hungarian, who has been a familiar figure upon the American concert-stage. He remained with him, however, but a very short time, for in October of that year they parted company. Brahms had attracted the notice of Liszt and Joachim; and it may have been through their advice that the musical partnership was dissolved. In any event, soon after leaving Reményí he went to Düsseldorf and visited Schumann. It was the latter who announced him to the world in such strong words as these:--

"In following with the greatest interest the paths of these elect [Joachim, Naumann, Norman, Bargiel, Kirchner, Schäffer, Dietrich, and Wilsing], I thought that after such forerunners there would, and must at last, all on a sudden appear one whose mission it would be to utter the highest expression of his time in an ideal manner,--one who would attain mastery, not by degrees, but, like Minerva, would at once spring completely armed from the head of Cronion.... May the highest genius give him strength for that of which there is hope, as in him dwells also another genius, that of modesty! We bid him welcome as a strong champion."

The next year (1854) appeared his first works,--three sonatas, a trio, scherzo for piano, and three books of songs. After a visit to Liszt at Weimar, he settled down as chorus-conductor and music-teacher at the court of Lippe-Detmold, where he remained a few years. During this period he devoted himself assiduously to composition. After leaving Detmold, he successively resided in Hamburg, Zürich, and Baden-Baden, though most of his time has been spent in Vienna, where he has directed the Singakademie and the concerts of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde. Schumann's prophecy has been made good; Brahms is to-day one of the most eminent of living musicians. Among his most famous compositions are a Funeral Hymn for chorus and wind-band; the "German Requiem;" "Triumphlied," for double-chorus and orchestra; "Schicksallied," for chorus and orchestra; five symphonies; variations on a theme of Haydn, for orchestra; the Tragic and Academic overtures; and several trios, quartets, quintets, sextets, concertos, and sonatas.

The German Requiem.

The "German Requiem," so called, is not a requiem in its sentiment, nor in any sense a religious service. The poem is full of consolation for the mourner, of assurances of joy hereafter, of warnings against the pomps and vanities of the world, and closes with the victory of the saints over death and the grave. It might with more propriety be called "a sacred cantata." The work has seven numbers,--two baritone solos and chorus, soprano solo and chorus, and four separate choruses. It was first performed at Bremen on Good Friday, 1868, and in 1873 was first heard in England. It was also given at the Cincinnati festival of 1884, under Mr. Thomas's direction.

The opening chorus ("Blessed are they that go mourning") is beautifully written, and is particularly noticeable for the richness of its accompaniment. In the Funeral March, which follows, a very graphic resemblance to the measured tread of the cortège is accomplished by the use of triple time. In this, as well as in numerous other instances, the composer cuts loose from ordinary methods, and in pure classical form and by the use of legitimate musical processes achieves what others seek to effect by sensuous or purely imitative music. The third number ("Lord, make me to know the Measure of my Days on Earth") opens with a baritone solo, followed by two choral fugues, which are solidly constructed, though they are extremely difficult to sing, and call for a chorus of unusual discipline and intelligence. The fourth, for chorus ("How lovely is Thy Dwelling-place, O Lord of Hosts"), is in striking contrast with its predecessor, being a slow movement, and very melodious in style. The fifth ("Ye now are sorrowful, grieve not"), for soprano solo and chorus, shows the composer's unusual power as a song-writer, as well as his melodious attractiveness when melody answers his purpose. In the next number, set for chorus with baritone solo responses ("Here on Earth we have no continuing Place, we seek now a heavenly one"), the character of the music changes again, and the resurrection of the dead is pictured in fugal passages of tremendous power and difficulty. After the storm comes the calm again in the finale ("Blessed are the Faithful who in the Lord are sleeping"), which contains a reminiscence of the opening number, and closes the work in a gentle, but deeply serious strain. It was the "German Requiem" which first made Brahms famous; it confirmed all that Schumann had said of him. Its great difficulties require an extraordinary chorus and orchestra; but when these can be had, the power and beauty of the work will always be conceded.

COSTA.

Michael Costa, the eminent conductor and composer, was born at Naples, Feb. 4, 1810. Having displayed musical aptitude at a very early age, he was placed in the Royal Academy of Music. Before his twenty-first year he had composed several works, among them a mass for four voices, a "Dixit Dominus," three symphonies, an oratorio, "La Passione," the ballet music to "Kenilworth," and the operas, "Il Delitto punito," "Il Sospetto funesto," "Il carcere d' Ildegonda," and "Malvina,"--the last for the San Carlo at Naples. In 1829 he was sent to England by his master Zingarelli to conduct one of the latter's compositions at Birmingham; and that country thereafter became his home. The next year he was engaged at the King's Theatre, now known as Her Majesty's, as piano-master, and two years later became the musical director. He was the first to bring the band to its proper place, though he had to make a hard fight against the ballet, which at that time threatened to absorb both singers and orchestra, and to sweep the musical drama from the stage. He succeeded, however, and did much also to improve the composition of the orchestra. While holding this position he wrote the ballets, "Une heure à Naples" and "Sir Huon" for Taglioni, and "Alma" for Cerito, the beautiful quartet, "Ecco quel fiero istante," and the operas "Malek Adhel" for Paris in 1837, and "Don Carlos" for London in 1844. He remained at Her Majesty's Theatre for fifteen years, during which time he did a great work for singers and band, and reduced the ballet to its proper rank. In 1846 he left his position and went to the new Italian opera at Covent Garden, where he remained for a quarter of a century, absolute in his musical supremacy and free to deal with all works as he pleased, among them those of Meyerbeer, at that time the most prominent composer in the operatic world; for Wagner as yet was scarcely known. It is to Costa that Meyerbeer owes his English reputation. In the same year (1846) he took the direction of the Philharmonic orchestra, and two years later that of the Sacred Harmonic Society, which he held until his death, and as conductor of which he also directed the Handel festivals. In 1849 he was engaged for the Birmingham festivals, and also conducted them until his death. In 1854 he resigned his position with the Philharmonic, and his successor, for a brief time only, was Richard Wagner. His oratorio, "Eli," was composed for the Birmingham Festival of 1855, and his second oratorio, "Naaman," for the same festival in 1864. In 1869 he was knighted, and shortly afterwards, when his "Eli" was produced at Stuttgart, it won for him the royal order of Frederick from the King of Würtemberg. He also had decorations from the sovereigns of Germany, Turkey, Italy, and the Netherlands, in recognition of his musical accomplishments. In 1871 he returned again to Her Majesty's Opera in the capacity of "director of the music, composer, and conductor;" but a few years ago he again dissolved his connection with it, and devoted himself entirely to the private management and public direction of the Sacred Harmonic Society, with which he was identified for over thirty years. He died in April, 1884.

Eli.

The oratorio of "Eli," the text taken from the first book of Samuel, and adapted by William Bartholomew, was first performed at the Birmingham Festival, Aug. 29, 1855, under Costa's own direction, with Mesdames Viardot and Novello and Messrs. Sims Reeves and Carl Formes in the principal parts. The characters are Eli, Elkanah, Hannah, Samuel, the Man of God, Saph the Philistine warrior, Hophni and Phinehas the sons of Eli, and the Priests and Philistines as chorus. The story is not very consistent in its outlines, and is fragmentary withal, the narrative of the child Samuel being the central theme, around which are grouped the tribulations of Elkanah and Hannah, the service of Eli the priest, the revels of his profligate sons, and the martial deeds of the Philistines.

The overture opens with a pianissimo prelude for organ in chorale form, followed by an orchestral fugue well worked up, but very quiet in character. Indeed, the whole overture is mostly pianissimo. In striking contrast follows the opening recitative for bass ("Blow ye the Trumpet"), which is the signal for those instruments, and introduces the first chorus ("Let us go to pray before the Lord"), beginning with a soft staccato which gradually works up to a jubilant climax on the words "Make a joyful Noise." A tenor solo for Elkanah is interwoven with the chorus, which closes with broad, flowing harmony. The next number, a bass air with chorus ("Let the People praise Thee"), is somewhat peculiar in its construction. It begins with the air, which is slow and tender, and at the close the chorus takes it in canon form. Then Eli intones benedictions in chorale style, and the chorus responds with "Amens" in full harmony at the end of each, making a very impressive effect. It is followed by a very elaborate chorus ("Blessed be the Lord"), closing with a fugue on the word "Amen," which is very clear and well worked up. The next number is the sorrowful prayer of the barren and grieving Hannah ("Turn Thee unto me"), which is very expressive in its mournful supplication, and splendidly contrasted with her joyous song after the birth of Samuel, of which mention will be made in its proper connection. Eli rebukes her, and a dialogue ensues, interrupted by the tender chorus, "The Lord is good." The dialogue form is again renewed, this time by Elkanah and Hannah, leading to a beautiful duet between them ("Wherefore is thy Soul cast down?").

The character of the music now changes as we enter upon a long drinking-chorus, with solos by the two revellers, Hophni and Phinehas ("For everything there is a Season"). The change from the seriousness of the preceding numbers is very abrupt, and the music of the chorus is decidedly of the conventional Italian drinking-song character. Eli appears and rebukes them, and after a cantabile aria ("Thou shouldst mark Iniquities"), a short chorus of Levites, for tenors and basses, ensues, introducing a simple, but well-sustained chorale for full chorus ("How mighty is Thy Name"). At this point the "Man of God" appears, rebuking the Levites for their polluted offerings. His denunciations are declaimed in strong, spirited phrases, accompanied by the chorus of the people ("They have profaned it"), beginning in unison. The scene now changes to the camp of the Philistines, where Saph, their man of war, shouts out his angry and boisterous defiance in his solo ("Philistines, hark, the Trumpet sounding"). It is followed by a choral response from the Philistines ("Speed us on to fight"), which is in the same robust and stirring style, though the general effect is theatrical and somewhat commonplace. Combined with it is a choral response by the priests of Dagon, of an Oriental character. After this clash of sound follows an air of a sombre style by Eli ("Hear my Prayer, O Lord"), the introduction and accompaniment of which are very striking. The "Man of God" once more appears, announcing the approaching death of Eli's sons to a weird, sepulchral accompaniment of the reeds and trombones, and leading up to a very effective duet between them ("Lord, cause Thy Face to shine upon Thy Servant"). Another chorale ensues ("O make a joyful Noise"), and after a brief recitative Hannah has a most exultant song, overflowing with love and gratitude at the birth of Samuel ("I will extol Thee, O Lord"). The first part closes with a brief recitative between Hannah and Eli, preluding a fugued chorus ("Hosanna in the highest"), built up on two motives and one of the most elaborate numbers in the oratorio.

The second part opens with a chaste and lovely melody, the morning prayer of the child Samuel ("Lord, from my Bed again I rise"), followed with some pretty recitative between the child and his parents, and an unaccompanied quartet, set to the same choral theme that was heard in the organ prelude to the overture. The next number is the long and showy instrumental march of the Israelites, followed by two very striking choruses,--the first ("Hold not Thy Peace and be not still, O God") of which appeals for divine help against the enemy, and the second, an allegro ("O God, make them like a Wheel"), leads into a fugue ("So persecute them"), which is very energetic in character, and closes with the martial hymn, "God and King of Jacob's Nation," sung to the melody of the preceding march.

The oratorio abounds in contrasts, and here occurs another, the evening prayer of Samuel ("This Night I lift my Heart to Thee"),--a pure, quiet melody, gradually dying away as he drops asleep, and followed by an angel chorus for female voices with harp accompaniment ("No Evil shall befall thee"), the effect of which is very beautiful, especially in the decrescendo at the close. A messenger suddenly arrives, announcing the defeat of Israel by the Philistines, upon which the chorus bursts out with one of the most telling numbers, both in the voice parts and the descriptiveness of the accompaniment ("Woe unto us, we are spoiled!"). Some very dramatic recitative between Samuel and Eli follows, after which the Levites join in the chorus, "Bless ye the Lord," opening with the tenors and closing in four parts, with the call of Eli intervening ("Watchmen, what of the Night?"). A long recitative by Samuel ("The Lord said"), foreshadowing the disasters to the house of Eli; an air by Eli ("Although my House be not with God"); a funeral chorus by the Israelites ("Lament with a doleful Lamentation"); further phrases of recitative announcing more defeats of Israel, the capture of the ark, the death of Eli and his sons, and an appeal by Samuel to blow the trumpet, calling a solemn assembly to implore the pity of the Lord,--prepare the way for the final chorus ("Blessed be the Lord"), closing with a fugue on the word "Hallelujah."

The oratorio was first given in this country by the Boston Handel and Haydn Society, Feb. 15, 1857, under the direction of Carl Zerrahn, with Mr. Thomas Ball as Eli and also as Saph, Mr. Wilde as the Man of God, Mr. C. R. Adams as Elkanah, Mrs. Long as Hannah, and Miss Hawley in the contralto part of Samuel. Writing of that performance, Mr. Dwight, the careful and discriminating critic, summed up the work as follows: "As a whole, 'Eli' is a noble and impressive oratorio. The composition is learned and musician-like, and generally appropriate, tasteful, dignified, often beautiful, and occasionally grand. It is by no means a work of genius, but it is a work of high musical culture, and indicates a mind imbued with the best traditions and familiar with the best masters of the art, and a masterly command of all the modern musical resources, except the 'faculty divine,'"--which, we may be permitted to say, is not included in "modern musical resources." The characterization of the oratorio, however, is thoroughly pertinent and complete. It is somewhat remarkable that a work so excellent and having so many elements of popularity should not be given more frequently in this country.

ANTON DVORÁK.

Anton Dvorák, the Bohemian composer who has risen so suddenly into prominence, was born at Mülhausen, near Prague, Sept. 8, 1841. His father combined the businesses of tavern-keeper and butcher, and young Dvorák assisted him in waiting upon customers, as well as in the slaughtering business. As the laws of Bohemia stipulate that music shall be a part of common-school education, Dvorák learned the rudiments in the village school, and also received violin instruction. At the age of thirteen he went to work for an uncle who resided in a village where the schoolmaster was a proficient musician. The latter, recognizing his ability, gave him lessons on the organ, and allowed him to copy music. Piano-lessons followed, and he had soon grounded himself quite thoroughly in counterpoint. At the age of sixteen he was admitted to the organ-school at Prague, of which Joseph Pitsch was the principal. Pitsch died shortly after, and was succeeded by Kreyci, who made Dvorák acquainted with the music of Mozart, Beethoven, and Mendelssohn. The first orchestral work which he heard was Beethoven's "Ninth Symphony," during its rehearsal under Spohr's direction. In 1860, being then in his nineteenth year, he obtained an engagement, with the meagre salary of $125 a year, as violinist in a band that played at cafés and dances. Two years later he secured a position in the Bohemian Opera-House at Prague, then under the direction of Mayer, where he remained until 1871, in which year he left the theatre and devoted himself to teaching, with the prospect of earning $250 a year. These were hard days for the young musician; but while he was thus struggling for a bare subsistence he continued writing compositions, though he had no prospect of selling them or of having them played. One writer remarks on this point: "It is far from difficult to compare him in this respect with that marvellous embodiment of patience and enthusiasm, Franz Schubert; only, more fortunate than the Viennese master, the Bohemian has lived to receive his reward. Between these two men another point of resemblance appears. Neither can be charged with pushing or intriguing himself into prominence. Schubert had plenty of artistic ambition, but of personal ambition none; while the quality he so entirely lacked cannot be accredited to Dvorák, who spent the best part of his life in the enjoyment of merely local fame." About this time he wrote his "Patriotic Hymn" and the opera "König und Köhler." The latter was rejected after an orchestral trial; but he continued his work, undaunted by failure. Shortly after this he received the appointment of organist at the Adelbert Church, Prague, and fortune began to smile upon him. His symphony in F was laid before the Minister of Instruction in Vienna, and upon the recommendation of Herbeck secured him a grant of $200. When Brahms replaced Herbeck on the committee which reported upon artists' stipends, he fully recognized Dvorák's ability, and not only encouraged him, but also brought him before the world by securing him a publisher and commending him to Joachim, who still further advanced his interests by securing performances of his works in Germany and England. Since that time he has risen rapidly, and is now recognized as one of the most promising of living composers. Among his works which have been produced during the past few years are the "Stabat Mater," the cantata "The Spectre Bride," three operas in the Czechist dialect, three orchestral symphonies, several Slavonic rhapsodies, overtures, violin and piano concertos, an exceedingly beautiful sextet, and numerous songs.

The Stabat Mater.

Dvorák's "Stabat Mater" was written in 1875. It was sent to the Austrian Minister of Instruction, but was not deemed worthy of the grant of $200 which the composer had expected. Its merit was subsequently recognized by Brahms and Joachim, and the latter secured a hearing of it in London in 1883. It immediately made its composer famous. The Philharmonic Society invited him to London, and the work was given with great success at the Albert Hall, and later at the Worcester and Hereford festivals. It was in England indeed that his celebrity was established, and for that country all his new works are now written.

The "Stabat Mater" is written for soli, chorus, and orchestra, and comprises ten numbers. The first is the quartet and chorus, "Stabat Mater dolorosa," and carries the old Latin hymn as far as the "Quis est homo." After an orchestral introduction which gives out the principal motives on which the number is based, the vocal quartet begins. The materials of which it is composed are very simple, but they are worked up with great technical skill. The general effect is tragic rather than pathetic, as if the composer were contemplating not so much the grief of the Virgin Mother at the foot of the Cross as the awful nature of the tragedy itself and its far-reaching consequences.

The second number is the quartet "Quis est homo." After a short introduction, the theme is taken by the alto, followed by the tenor and bass, and lastly by the soprano, the general structure growing more elaborate at each entrance. After the second subject is introduced a splendid climax is reached, and in the coda the voices whisper the words "vidit suum" to an accompaniment of wind instruments in sustained and impressive chords.

The third number, "Eia Mater," is built up on an exceedingly brief motive, which is augmented with surprising power in choral form. It is a work of scholarly skill, and yet is full of charm and grace, and will always commend itself even to the untutored hearer by its tenderness and pathetic beauty.

The fourth number, "Fac ut ardeat cor meum," for bass solo and chorus, like the third is most skilfully constructed out of small materials, and has a fine contrast between the solo and the chorus, which at its entrance is assigned to the female voices only, with organ accompaniment.

The fifth number is the chorus "Tui nati vulnerati," which is remarkable for the smooth and flowing manner in which its two subjects are treated.

The sixth number, "Fac me vere tecum flere," for tenor solo and chorus, is very elaborate in its construction. A stately theme is given out by the tenor, repeated in three-part harmony by male voices, the accompaniment being independent in form; the subject then returns, first for solo, and then for male voices, in varying harmonies. After a brief vocal episode the subject reappears in still different form, and, followed by the episode worked up at length in a coda, brings the number to its close.

The seventh number, "Virgo, virgonum præclara," for full chorus, is marked by great simplicity and tenderness, and will always be one of the most popular sections of the work.

The eighth number, "Fac ut portem," is a duet for soprano and tenor, responsive in character, and constructed on very simple phrases presented in varying forms both by the voices and orchestra.

The ninth number, "Inflammatus et accensus," is one of the most masterly in the whole work. It is an alto solo composed of two subjects, the first very majestic, and the second pathetic in character, forming a contrast of great power and beauty.

The tenth and closing number, "Quando corpus morietur," for quartet and chorus, is constructed substantially upon the same themes which appeared in the "Stabat Mater," and closes with an "Amen" of a massive character, exhibiting astonishing contrapuntal skill. One of the best English critics says of the whole work:--

"The 'Stabat Mater' approaches as near to greatness as possible, if it be not actually destined to rank among world-renowned masterpieces. It is fresh and new, while in harmony with the established canons of art; and though apparently labored and over-developed in places, speaks with the force and directness of genius."

GOUNOD.

Charles François Gounod was born in Paris, June 17, 1818. His fame has been made world-wide by the extraordinary success of his opera "Faust," and yet more than almost any other operatic composer of modern times he has devoted himself to sacred music. His earlier studies were pursued in Paris at the Conservatory, under the tuition of Paër and Lesueur, and in 1839 the receipt of the Grand Prix gave him the coveted opportunity to go to Italy. In the atmosphere of Rome religious influences made a strong impression upon him. He devoted himself assiduously to the study of Palestrina, and among his first important compositions were a mass performed at the Church of San Luigi dei Francesi in 1841, and a second, written without accompaniment, which was given in Vienna two years later. On his return to Paris, religious ideas still retained their sway over him, and he became organist and conductor at the Missions étrangères. He even contemplated taking orders, and attended a theological course for two years. In 1846 he became a pupil at the Séminaire; but at last he gave up his priestly intentions and devoted himself wholly to musical composition, though he has been, if not a devotee, a religious enthusiast all his life, and that too in the midst of a peculiarly worldly career. It was about this period that he wrote his "Messe Solenelle" in G,--the first of his compositions that was ever produced in England. It was cordially received, and he was universally recognized as a promising musician. For many years succeeding this event he devoted himself mainly to secular music, and opera after opera rapidly came from his pen,--"Sappho" (1851); "Nonne Sanglante" (1854); "Le Médecin malgré lui" (1858); "Faust," his greatest work, and one of the most successful of modern operas (1859); "Philémon et Baucis" (1860); "Reine de Saba" (1862); "Mireille" (1864); "La Colombe" (1866); "Roméo et Juliette" (1867); "Cinq Mars" (1877), and "Polyeucte" (1878). Notwithstanding the attention he gave to opera and to much other secular music, he found ample time for the composition of sacred works. In 1852, while in Paris, he became conductor of the Orphéon, and for the pupils of that institution he composed two masses. He has also written a great number of pieces for choir use which are very popular, and deservedly so, particularly the beautiful song "Nazareth." Among his larger works are a "Stabat Mater," with orchestral accompaniment; the oratorio "Tobie;" a "De Profundis" and an "Ave Verum;" and the two oratorios, "The Redemption," performed at Birmingham in 1882, and "Mors et Vita," brought out at the same place in 1885. The composer is now engaged upon the scheme of a new oratorio, the career of Joan of Arc being its subject. It may be said in closing this sketch, which has been mainly confined to a consideration of his sacred compositions, as his operatic career has been fully treated in "Standard Operas," that in 1873 he wrote the incidental music to Jules Barbier's tragedy, "Jeanne d'Arc," which may have inspired his determination to write an oratorio on the same subject.

The Redemption.

"The Redemption, a Sacred Trilogy," is the title which Gounod gave to this work, and on its opening page he wrote: "The work of my life." In a note appended to his description of its contents he says:--

"It was during the autumn of the year 1867 that I first thought of composing a musical work on the Redemption. I wrote the words at Rome, where I passed two months of the winter 1867-68 with my friend Hébert, the celebrated painter, at that time director of the Academy of France. Of the music I then composed only two fragments: first, 'The March to Calvary' in its entirety; second, the opening of the first division of the third part, 'The Pentecost.' Twelve years afterwards I finished the work, which had so long been interrupted, with a view to its being performed at the festival at Birmingham in 1882."

It was brought out, as he contemplated, in August of that year, and the production was a memorable one. It was first heard in this country in the winter of 1883-84 under Mr. Theodore Thomas's direction, and was one of the prominent works in his series of festivals in the latter year.

Gounod himself has prefaced the music with an admirably concise description of the text and its various subjects. Of its general contents he says:

"This work is a lyrical setting forth of the three great facts on which depends the existence of the Christian Church. These facts are,--first, the passion and the death of the Saviour; second, his glorious life on earth from his resurrection to his ascension; third, the spread of Christianity in the world through the mission of the Apostles. These three parts of the present trilogy are preceded by a prologue on the creation, the fall of our first parents, and the promise of a redeemer."

The divisions of the work are as follows:--

Prologue.--The Creation.