Chapter IV

). An interesting example of later Passion music is Gounod’s unaccompanied Passion-motet, ‘The Seven Last Words of Our Saviour’ (_Filiæ Jerusalem_), written from the standpoint of the Roman Church service in the style of Palestrina.

Karl Heinrich Graun (1701-1759), a contemporary of Bach, was the last great writer of Passion music. Indeed, the greatest of his works was the Passion-cantata ‘The Death of Jesus,’ text by Ramler, which met with the most monumental success and has been a favorite up to the present day. Performed for the first time on March 26th, 1763, in the Cathedral of Berlin (four years after the death of the composer), it was published immediately and both orchestral and piano scores passed through edition after edition, and the work obtained a very wide hearing. In many places an annual performance of it was given and it was as well known as the ‘Messiah,’ ‘The Creation’ and the Mozart _Requiem_. Although Graun was first of all a contrapuntist, his harmony was rich and expressive and his style often dramatic. As he was himself an opera singer of splendid attainments, he understood how to produce the best vocal effects. His melodies, if judged from the standpoint of the time in which they were written, are very expressive, though present-day standards would not pronounce them always forceful. This may be partly due to the text, which, though suited to the demands of the time, is not always pliable. Graun, like all German Passion composers of this period, made frequent use of the chorale, sometimes for purposes of narration and sometimes to express the thought of the people. The _dramatis personæ_ are not well defined in the text, hence it is difficult to discern who is speaking, since chorus, solos and chorales serve for different functions. Frederick the Great somewhat humorously spoke of this work as ‘Graun’s best opera’ and there is considerable justification for the statement, especially when considered in connection with the two principal bass arias--one, which comes near the close, ‘Now suddenly by anguish long restrained,’ and the other, which is by far the highest dramatic point in the work, ‘Jerusalem, for slaughter thirsting.’ The latter is most effective, even judged by present-day standards, and has an elaborate accompaniment. This is followed by the chorus, ‘Christ unto us hath left an example,’ in double fugue, the vocal effects of which have made it successful in spite of the commonplace themes employed. This is so well-known that it is often sung by choirs as a separate composition.

VI

The law of compensation has seldom operated so magnificently to the advantage of a great artist defeated in a cherished life enterprise, as in the case of Handel. Rejoicing in the reputation of being one of the greatest opera composers of his time, he might easily have spent the whole productive period of his life in winning the applause of the pleasure-loving opera audiences who regarded the glitter and tinsel of Italian opera as the _summum bonum_ of artistic expression. Fortunately for Handel himself and for the art of music, he was compelled to give up his career as an opera composer and manager because of the jealousy of rivals, the cabals and intrigues of court-cliques and the financial embarrassments brought about by combinations of unpleasant circumstances. It was only after he was fifty years old that he began to write the works that have immortalized him. Several of his early oratorios--‘Esther’ (1718 and 1732), ‘Deborah’ (1733) and ‘Athaliah’ (1733)--had met with great success and popular approval, part of which was no doubt attributable to the unbounded admiration aroused by his performances on the organ between the parts of his oratorios. Practically driven from the operatic stage by adverse circumstances--and all of his operas are forgotten now--he eagerly turned to the more appreciative English oratorio audiences. It was this English love for the sacred drama that encouraged Handel to abandon stage composition (1741) and to give full expression to the deeper things of his rugged, independent, sincere nature through the highest forms of religious music. The result was the production of the stupendous series of oratorios on which his fame now almost wholly rests. ‘Saul’ and ‘Israel in Egypt’ were both performed in 1739, and in 1742 the immortal ‘Messiah’ was given to the world. The enthusiasm with which this great work was received stimulated him to renewed

## activity along the same line and after the ‘Messiah’ came ‘Samson’ and

the ‘Dettingen Te Deum,’ performed in 1743; ‘Semele’ and ‘Joseph,’ performed in 1744; ‘Belshazzar’ and ‘Heracles’ in 1745; the ‘Occasional Oratorio’ and ‘Judas Maccabæus’ in 1747; ‘Joshua’ in 1748, ‘Solomon’ and ‘Susannah’ in 1749, ‘Theodora’ in 1750, ‘The Choice of Hercules’ in 1750, and ‘Jephthah,’ his last oratorio, in 1752. During the composition of ‘Jephthah,’ his failing eyesight became so troublesome that he submitted to several operations for cataract, which, however, were unsuccessful and total blindness ensued.

During the period of about twenty years in which Handel’s oratorios were written, the oratorio itself passed through practically all the phases of development from the simple form in which Carissimi left it to the massive structure of his (Handel’s) later oratorios. During this period he had practically no competition; indeed, in the field of concert oratorio there is no one between Carissimi and Haydn who approaches him in greatness. The early Italian oratorio (including Handel’s earliest ones) consisted largely of vocal solos in the prevalent Italian operatic style. Scant attention was given to the chorus. As Handel delivered himself more and more in this form, he drew the line of demarcation more clearly between oratorio and opera. He elevated the chorus to an exalted position as the most effective and characteristic medium for the utterance of the sublime and epic thoughts so appropriate to the oratorio, and this feature has been largely maintained in oratorio since Handel’s time. To be sure, he frequently employed a distinctly operatic style (as in the familiar aria ‘Rejoice greatly’ from the ‘Messiah’), but in general he differentiated between the two forms and firmly established the permanent lines on which modern oratorio has developed. It should be borne in mind that oratorio is not, and never has been, church-music, but concert-music. Its first use, though frequently associated with church services, was distinctly extra-liturgical. It is not even necessarily religious music and it is worthy of note in this connection that the majority of Handel’s choral works are secular. Several of his early oratorios--‘Esther’ and ‘Deborah,’ as well as the serenata, ‘Acis and Galatea’--were performed, as was the early custom in Italy, with costume and stage scenery and action. English church authorities frowned on this practice, however, and Handel discontinued it, but he retained the dramatic element throughout all of his career as an oratorio writer; in fact ‘Samson’ possesses so much real dramatic

## action that it might well be staged for full operatic performance.

Handel’s oratorio style differed sharply from Bach’s in that it was less severe and more distinctly vocal. His long experience in writing for the stage led him instinctively to assume a more direct and intimate form of musical speech than that adopted by the great Cantor in his church-music. Next to Bach he was the greatest master of counterpoint of his time and many of his choruses are perfect examples of vocal fugue, but he depended far more than did Bach upon solid chord-movement for some of his most massive and grandiose effects. His general choral style represents a happy combination of the homophonic and contrapuntal principles, both operating in the immediate interests of expressive dramatic utterance, as witness the magnificent ‘Hallelujah’ chorus in the ‘Messiah.’ Deeply expressive arias, often with folk-song simplicity of melody, and massive, highly organized and often elaborately constructed contrapuntal choruses are the two salient musical features of his best oratorio style.

‘Messiah.’--Probably no other musical composition is held in such universal affection as is Handel’s ‘Messiah’ and its popularity (in the best sense of the word) seems to increase with the years. Performances of it have steadily become more and more frequent during the last fifty years and with many choral societies in America, England and Germany, it has become an annual musical event at the Christmas season, though just why this particular season should have been chosen, it would be hard to say. Not only was Handel in many respects the greatest of oratorio writers, but this oratorio was his greatest work, free from traditions or limitations. It was written to a text which he himself selected from the Bible, though it was arranged by Charles Jennens, who had previously collaborated with him on _L’Allegro_. The very conception of the work itself is one of the sublimest that could engage the attention of the human mind--the great events in the life of the Saviour--and it struck down into the depths of his deeply religious nature. Volumes of sermons and criticisms have been preached and written upon the ‘Messiah’ from every conceivable religious and artistic angle. In England it has taken a place of devout veneration that is almost a fetich. Yet Ernest Walker, the English critic, declares that ‘if it was necessary for us blindly to bow the knee for all time to one single work, no doubt the "Messiah" was our wisest choice.’

This monumental work was begun on the 22nd of August, 1741, and finished on September 14th, therefore in the short space of twenty-three days. It was performed first in Dublin on April 13th, 1742, and it won immediate success. In London it was given for the first time on March 23rd, 1743, and at this performance King George the Second was so stirred during the singing of the words, ‘For the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth,’ that he rose to his feet and the whole audience followed his reverent example. From this incident sprang the familiar custom of rising during the singing of the Hallelujah Chorus. The work was given thirty-four times during Handel’s lifetime and he himself directed it for the last time on April 6th, 1759, only a week before his death. The first really adequate performance of it was given in Westminster Abbey in 1784, when it was given by the largest mass of performers ever assembled up to that time, the orchestra numbering 242 and the chorus 267. This was, however, eclipsed by the performance in the Crystal Palace at the centenary of the composer’s death, when an orchestra of 460 and a choir of 2,700 performed the work.

It is in three parts, the first containing the prophecy of the coming of the Messiah and the narrative of the nativity. It opens after a noble orchestral introduction with a tenor recitative and aria, ‘Comfort ye my people’ and ‘Every valley shall be exalted.’ This, like many of the Handel arias, is very ornate and requires a flexible vocal technique, single syllables being used for long florid passages. A similar illustration of this is found in the bass recitative, ‘Thus saith the Lord,’ and in the middle part of the following pastoral aria, ‘But who may abide,’ where the demands upon a fluent vocal delivery are exceedingly great, especially for the naturally slow-moving bass voice. These vocal demands, however, are not confined to the solos, but appear with equal force in some of the choruses as well, a good illustration of which is the brilliant fugal chorus, ‘And he shall purify.’ This is followed by the favorite contralto solo, ‘O Thou that tellest good tidings to Zion,’ which is taken up at its close and developed by the chorus. One of the most magnificent choruses in the first part is ‘For unto us a child is born’ and this is followed by the exquisite pastoral symphony which precedes the narration of the shepherds. The contralto and soprano arias, ‘He shall feed his flock’ and ‘Come unto Him all ye that labor,’ are among the most beautiful lyric melodies of oratorio literature and these are followed by the fugal chorus which closes the first part, ‘His yoke is easy.’

The second part, depicting the Saviour’s suffering, death and triumph, begins with a noble chorus, ‘Behold the Lamb of God,’ after which the alto sings one of the most expressively beautiful arias ever written, ‘He was despised.’ When Mrs. Cibber sang this aria at the first performance in Dublin, the Reverend Mr. Delany, friend of Dean Swift, who cherished a prejudice against all public singers, was so transported by the pathos of the music that he rapturously exclaimed: ‘Woman, for this be all thy sins forgiven.’ It is followed by the dramatically expressive choruses, ‘Surely He hath borne our griefs,’ ‘And with His stripes’ and ‘All we, like sheep, have gone astray,’ the last closing with a stately chorale, ‘And the Lord hath laid on Him the iniquity of us all.’ One of the most effective choruses in this part is the joyous ‘Lift up your heads, O ye gates,’ but the real climax of the part, and indeed of the whole work, is the ‘Hallelujah’ chorus, of such wondrous power and sustained beauty that everything after it must of necessity take on something of the nature of an anticlimax.

The short third part forms, as it were, a Credo, as expressed by the great soprano aria, ‘I know that my Redeemer liveth.’ The work closes with two of Handel’s finest choruses--‘Worthy is the Lamb,’ of great dignity and nobility, and the triumphant ‘Amen’ fugue, overpowering in its majestic sweep of contrapuntal movement. Speaking of the impression that this deeply religious epic has always produced on audiences in every country, Mr. F. J. Crowest, in ‘The Great Tone Poets,’ exclaims: ‘Where is the prelate who can move our souls as they are moved by Handel’s "Messiah"?’ And what can be added to such praise?

VII

‘Israel in Egypt.’--This work, the most perfect example of the choral oratorio, containing some of the most colossal choruses ever written (twenty-eight double choruses), was composed in October, 1738, in the short interval of twenty-seven days. In addition to the choruses there are only five arias, three duets and some short recitatives, which serve as connecting links in the massive choral chain. The second part (the Exodus) was written first and had evidently been planned as a cantata; however, Handel doubtless realized the possibilities of the vast material at hand and added the first part, which thus became an historical introduction to the work already written. Its first performance took place on April 4th, 1739, at the King’s Theatre, London, and on the 11th it was given again but with some alterations, caused by insertion of songs, and at the third performance on April 17th, the ‘Funeral Anthem’ in memory of Queen Caroline was interpolated. For some reason this excellent work was not successful and was given only nine times during Handel’s lifetime. It was again brought to light in 1849 by the Sacred Harmonic Society of London, when it was peformed as originally written, and in this form it is now given. The text, credited to Handel, was really taken literally from the Bible and arranged by him so as to form a very dramatic narrative.

[Illustration: Facsimile of Handel’s Manuscript: the Last Page of ‘The Messiah’]

It opens, without an overture, with a few measures of tenor recitative (‘Now there arose a King in Egypt who knew not Joseph’), leading at once to the lament of the Israelites over the cruelties of the Egyptian bondage (‘And the children of Israel sighed’), a double chorus of great dramatic power leading up to the words, ‘And their cry came up unto God.’ After another short recitative for tenor, there follows the series of choruses descriptive of the plagues, in which the composer uses almost modern descriptive means. Thus, the first of the choruses describing the plague of the water turning to blood (‘They loathed to drink of the river’), is fugal and depicts the nauseating effects of the water upon the Egyptians; the hopping of the frogs is naïvely imitated in the accompaniment of the following aria for mezzo-soprano (‘Their land brought forth frogs’); and the plague of insects, a double chorus with a buzzing, restless orchestral accompaniment, is remarkably descriptive of insect motion. Before the dramatic double chorus, ‘He gave them hailstones for rain,’ the orchestra introduces the approaching storm, which, beginning gradually, develops into tremendous force as if the elements had been let loose. After the storm, comes the gloom of the darkness that fell over the land and vague, uncertain tones grope about as the chorus sings, ‘He sent a thick darkness over all the land.’ Then, in the savage fury of righteous retribution, a chorus of unexampled energy (‘He smote all the first-born of Egypt’) describes the swift vengeance of the Most High. The English critic Chorley calls it ‘a fiercely Jewish’ chorus, with ‘a touch of Judith, of Jael, of Deborah in it--no quarter, no delay, no mercy for the enemies of the Most High.’ The passage of the Red Sea follows these stormy descriptive choruses, and another dramatic but jubilant chorus (‘But the waters overwhelmed their enemies’) is succeeded by two short choruses of a devotional character which bring the first part to a close.

The second part, ‘The Song of Moses,’ after a short orchestral introduction, is ushered in by a chorus (‘Moses and the children of Israel sang this song’), after which comes the sublime fugal chorus, a mighty song of praise to the Lord (‘For He hath triumphed gloriously’). In this part is also the famous declamatory duet for two basses, ‘The Lord is a Man of War,’ and the great tenor aria, ‘The enemy said "I will pursue."’ After the exultant song of Miriam, the prophetess, there comes a magnificent triumphal double chorus, splendidly supported by the orchestra--a piling up of voice upon voice, instrument upon instrument, in a pæan of exultation and triumph, which brings the work to a climactic close of tremendous dramatic effectiveness.

‘Judas Maccabæus.’--This oratorio was written at the request of the Prince of Wales for the celebration of the victory of Culloden (April 16th, 1746) and the work, written in thirty-two days (July 9th to August 11th, 1746), was performed on April first, 1747, the festal day celebrating the return of the victorious Duke of Cumberland. The text was prepared by the Reverend Thomas Morell, D.D., who selected the material concerning the events surrounding the Hebrew warrior from the First Book of Maccabees and from Josephus. The first performance at Covent Garden was so successful that the work was repeated six times that year. Handel himself conducted it thirty-eight times, and it gained steadily in popularity, which was further augmented by the enthusiasm of the Jews, who delighted in it because it extolled a proud event in their national history.

The first part (the time is the second century B. C.) opens with the lament of the Israelitish men and women over the death of their leader Mattathias (father of Judas Maccabæus and his brother Simon), who had inspired the Jews to withstand the tyranny of Antiochus Epiphanes, king of Syria, in his effort to deprive them of their freedom and their religious worship. The first chorus, ‘Mourn, ye afflicted children,’ and, after a duet, the chorus ‘For Zion lamentation make,’ establish at once the sombre mood of the whole work. Simon’s militant, ringing aria, ‘Arm, arm, ye brave,’ which is still an effective solo greatly beloved of bass singers, is followed by a short but rousing chorus, ‘We come in bright array.’ The first part closes with one of the most massive and imposing choruses from Handel’s pen, ‘Hear us, O Lord.’

The second part opens with an instrumental prelude descriptive of the battle scenes and the celebration of the initial victories, and leads into the finest chorus in the work, a powerful song of triumph, ‘Fallen is the foe.’ The war of liberation is renewed, Judas rouses the courage of his depressed people and his army departs to meet the enemy, while those who remain behind voice their denunciation of the idolatries of the heathen. The second part closes dramatically with the chorus, ‘We never will bow down to the rude stock or sculptured stone,’ which develops into a vigorous chorale in which is heard the repeated phrase, ‘We worship God alone.’

The third part begins with a prayer, ‘Father of heaven, from Thy eternal throne,’ which is sung by the priest in the recovered and restored temple of Jerusalem. A messenger announces the victory of Judas and, as the youths and maidens go out to meet the returning victor, they sing the world-famous jubilant chorus, ‘See the conquering hero comes,’ which, by the way, was originally composed for ‘Joshua’ as a tribute to Othniel on his return from the capture of Debir, and was later transferred to ‘Judas Maccabæus.’ The oratorio appropriately closes with a Hallelujah chorus which at once celebrates the return of peace and serves as the joyous expression of national thanksgiving.

‘Samson.’--Although this work was written almost at the same time as the ‘Messiah’ (1741), it was not performed until February 18th, 1743, when it was given in London at Covent Garden. Its success was instant. Eight consecutive performances were given--a far more eloquent tribute in Handel’s time than in our own to the popular appreciation with which it was received. Handel himself regarded the work with deep affection, and, when urged to express a preference for either the ‘Messiah’ or ‘Samson,’ declared he was unable to choose between them. During his lifetime ‘Samson’ shared almost equal popularity with the ‘Messiah’ and ‘Judas Maccabæus’--the three most frequently performed. The text, arranged by Newburg Hamilton from Milton’s poem, ‘Samson Agonistes,’ although based upon the Bible narrative of the powerful Samson, does not follow it absolutely. The principal characters are Samson; Micah, his friend; Manoah, his father; Delilah, his wife; and Harapha, a giant of Gath. The scene is laid before the prison of Gaza.

A brilliant overture, stately at first and gradually developing into minuet rhythm, opens the work, which at once reveals the blind captive, Samson, temporarily released from his menial toil because of the feast of Dagon, and lamenting his deplorable plight as he hears the fiery chorus of the priests, ‘Awake the trumpet’s lofty sound.’ His father and his friend come to lament with him just after his touching tenor song (‘Torments, alas!’), and as they ask which of his sorrows is greater, blindness or captivity, Samson sings one of the noblest laments ever written, ‘Total eclipse: no sun, no moon, all dark amidst the blaze of noon,’ a song which touched Handel so deeply in his latter days of blindness that he wept at the performance, as did the audience with him. Samson nobly tells his friends that his punishment is deserved and that there is no hope for him; but at times he furiously denounces his foes, especially in the dramatic outburst, ‘Why does the God of Israel sleep?’ which is followed by an elaborate choral fugue (‘Then shall they know’) on two subjects, one given by the altos, the other by the tenors. The first part closes with a beautiful chorus in which his friends point his thought to the joys of a future life for compensation for all his earthly sorrows.

The second part discloses Delilah trying again to entice her husband, but he now understands her treachery and answers her sensuous song with the emphatic ‘Your charms to ruin led the way.’ He then has a visitation from the giant Harapha who taunts him on his present condition. The colloquy between the giants produces two of the finest arias of the oratorio--Harapha’s dashing and boastful bass aria, ‘Honor and arms scorn such a foe,’ and Samson’s proud answer, ‘My strength is from the living God.’ Micah finally bids Harapha to call on Dagon to ‘dissolve the magic spells that gave our hero strength,’ after which is heard the broad, devout six-part chorus of the Israelites, ‘Hear, Jacob’s God.’ The part closes with a massive double chorus--in which Israelites and Philistines, in choral strife, extol their respective deities.

In the third part, Harapha notifies Samson that he must appear at the feast of Dagon to exhibit his strength and, though he refuses at first, he finally yields because he believes it to be God’s will. Samson calls upon the Spirit which led him formerly and goes to the temple. He takes in each hand one of the pillars which support the roof and with a mighty effort pulls down the temple, crushing the Philistines and burying himself with them. A tender, expressive funeral march is played as Samson is borne away by his people. For this march Handel afterwards substituted the Dead March from ‘Saul’ and both marches now appear in the score. Manoah exhorts the people to lay aside their sorrow and praise God, and this brings the famous trumpet aria, ‘Let the bright Seraphim,’ which is so grateful for both voice and instrument. The brilliant chorus, ‘Let their celestial concerts,’ brings this imposing oratorio to a triumphant close.

VIII

Most of the great composers have frankly built on the achievements of their predecessors, carrying to completion or at least to higher stages of development the forms handed down to them, without much conscious influence from contemporary composers. Some, like Wagner and Schubert, have struck out new lines whose discovery and development cannot be explained wholly as resulting from the operation of preceding artistic forces and principles. Comparatively few of the really great composers have acknowledged their indebtedness to contemporary genius. Such a one, however, was ‘Papa’ Haydn. The youthful Mozart had opened up new visions in symphonic and orchestral music and compelled the veteran Haydn[79] to new effort. And when Haydn heard the ‘Messiah’ for the first time in Westminster Abbey during his first visit to England in 1791, he was so moved by the majesty of the ‘Hallelujah’ chorus that it inspired him to the composition of what is undoubtedly his greatest work, the ‘Creation.’ This work joins with its great artistic inspirer, Handel’s ‘Messiah,’ and with Mendelssohn’s ‘Elijah’ in forming a trio of the world’s most popular oratorios. Of his other two oratorios--the ‘Seasons’ and ‘The Return of Tobias’--only the former claims present-day performance and that far less frequently than its predecessor, the ‘Creation.’ One misses in Haydn’s choral works the massive grandeur of effect and complexity of structure of the Handel oratorios. Haydn was a deeply religious man, but it was not in accord with his happy, sunny, optimistic nature to sound the depths of human emotion. The great charm of the ‘Creation’ lies in the freshness, the artless simplicity, and the evident spontaneity of its melody, and the naturalness and direct expressive power of its choruses.

The ‘Creation’ was begun in 1795, to a libretto given the composer by the London manager, Salomon, and compiled by Lidley from Milton’s ‘Paradise Lost’ and from Genesis. It was completed in 1798, when Haydn was sixty-six years old, and the first performance took place at the Schwarzenberg Palace on the 29th and 30th of April, 1798, with the text translated and much altered by Baron von Swieten. It was first publicly produced at the National Theatre, Vienna, March 19, 1799, and was received with greatest enthusiasm. It soon made its way to the music-centres of Europe, having its first London performance on March 28th, 1800, and its first Paris performance on Dec. 24th, of the same year. Napoleon I was on his way to attend the latter performance when he narrowly escaped death by an infernal machine in the Rue Nicaise. Structurally one is impressed with the large number of arias and the correspondingly small number of choruses, as compared with Handel’s later oratorios. In this respect Haydn was undoubtedly influenced by the form of the Italian concert oratorio, then very popular in Vienna.

It is constructed in the usual three parts, the first two of which are the strongest. The overture is a quaint bit of tone painting; at first monotonous and barren of melody, it attempts to depict chaos; but gradually form begins to appear in the music and the various instruments speak out more clearly, until harmony is established. The first voice is that of Raphael (bass) in a short recitative, ‘In the beginning,’ followed by a chorus which gently whispers the words, ‘And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters,’ closing with a joyous outburst on the words, ‘And there was light.’ The separation of light from darkness follows, Satan and his legions ‘sink into the deep abyss’ and the quiet chorus appears, ‘A new created world springs up.’ The first four days of creation are described in a series of recitatives, arias and choruses, many of which are familiar the world over--the inspiring chorus with soprano obbligato, ‘The marvellous work’; the fine bass aria, ‘Rolling in foaming billows,’ with its lovely limpid refrain, ‘Softly purling’; and the well-known ‘With verdure clad,’ a soprano aria on which Haydn lavished the utmost care, having altered it three times before it entirely satisfied him--all leading up to the magnificent final chorus of the first part, ‘The heavens are telling,’ in which a trio of voices (Gabriel, Uriel and Raphael) is finely contrasted with the majestic choral passages.

The second part describes the creation of animate life on the earth. Beginning with birds, it enumerates the various classes, rising in the scale until the crowning glory of creation is reached in man. The opening aria, ‘On mighty pens’ (Gabriel), pictures the eagle, the lark, the dove and the nightingale, each bird being depicted in a characteristic musical phrase in the accompaniment. One of the most interesting numbers is the description of the roaring lions, with deep growls of the double bassoons, the ‘flexible tiger’ with rapid string passages, the alertness of the stag with a _presto_ movement, the neighing and prancing of the horse, the fluttering and buzzing of swarming insects in the air--in all of which the humor of Haydn is naïvely expressed in comical musical mimicry. The creation of man brings the beautiful tenor aria, ‘In native worth’ (Uriel). The final chorus is the superb fugue, ‘Achieved is the glorious work,’ in the midst of which is set a trio, ‘On Thee each living soul awaits,’ and, after a return to the fugue, closing with a Gloria and Hallelujah of singularly beautiful and majestic outlines. The third part opens with an orchestral introduction picturing the first morning of the completed creation, in which the flutes and horns contribute some beautiful effects. A tender dialogue between Adam and Eve is followed by a charming duet, ‘Graceful consort.’ The closing chorus, ‘Sing the Lord, ye voices all,’ opens in a strain of solemn majesty and gradually unfolds until it leads into a massive fugue, ‘Jehovah’s praise forever shall endure.’ It closes with a mighty pæan of praise, given by the combined chorus, solo voices and orchestra with telling effect.

‘The Seasons.’--Haydn’s last oratorio, ‘The Seasons,’ the words for which were based on Thomson’s poem of the same name and arranged by Baron von Swieten, was written between April, 1798, and April, 1801, and first presented at the Schwarzenberg Palace, Vienna, on April 24th, 1801. Three performances were given in close succession. This work can scarcely be called a real oratorio; it partakes more of the character and form of the sacred cantata, but is more frequently given the first named classification. The ‘Seasons’ represents a distinct decline in the composer’s powers, but it is not to be wondered at, for he was sixty-nine years old when it was completed, and during its composition was greatly harassed and irritated by the nonsensical demands and caprices of the librettist. The characters are Simon, a farmer; Jane, his daughter; and Lucas, a young countryman. These personages do not have any dramatic significance, though the work contains a love scene between Lucas and Jane. That the scene is laid in the country is easily imagined from the subject, and the chorus represents the country-folk.

The first scene depicts early spring and opens with a lively overture and with recitatives from the three principals, expressing joy at the approach of the balmy season, at once followed by the first chorus, ‘Come, gentle spring.’ After the farmer’s aria comes a trio and a fugal chorus, ‘Be propitious, bounteous heaven.’ The chorus, ‘Spring, her lovely charms unfolding,’ is almost redolent with the odor of waxen buds and early blossoms. Following this is the closing fugal chorus, ‘God of light.’

‘Summer’ is introduced with a short prelude leading to a beautiful aria by Simon, ‘From out the fold the shepherd drives,’ and at the appearance of the early sunrise the trio and chorus chant a song of welcome, ‘Hail, O glorious sun!’ The various numbers picture the progress of the day, and after the overwhelming heat of noon, an ominous silence tells of the coming storm. The drums give forth a peal of thunder, followed by a storm-chorus, ‘Hark the deep, tremendous voice.’ The driving rain, the thunder and the lightning-flashes are vividly pictured in the music. With the trio and chorus, ‘Now cease the conflicts,’ the music becomes tranquil again as the night approaches, with the droning of insects, the croaking of the frogs, the song of the quail and the peals from a distant bell-tower--and darkness and slumber drop over the land.

The third part, ‘Autumn,’ depicting the ‘kind rewards’ of Nature, contains the song of Simon, ‘Behold, along the dewy grass,’ which is followed by the famous hunting chorus, ‘Hark! the mountains resound,’ a vivid tonal picture of the chase. A recitative, praising the rich vintage, leads to a scene of revelry, closing with the lively rustic chorus, ‘Joyful the liquor flows,’ in which a rollicking drinking-song, a well-known Austrian dance-melody with suggestions of bagpipe and fiddle, is happily introduced.

‘Winter’ is prefaced by a slow prelude indicative of the fogs creeping in. After the recitative of Simon and Jane’s cavatina, both picturing the approach of the icy season, there is a realistic musical picture of the wayfarer lost in the snow-storm. Simon moralizes on the changing seasons and offers as his conclusion that ‘nought but truth remains.’ A prayer to Heaven for divine guidance brings the pastoral scene to a close.

The eighteenth century came to an end with Handel as the great outstanding figure in oratorio and Haydn just appearing on the scene. England led Europe in its devotion to this form of choral art, though Germany was soon to awaken to its importance. Bach’s magnificent choral works were slumbering on dusty shelves and Italian oratorio was still fatuously allied with operatic ideals, while France gave little heed to the form at all. But another half-century was to witness a more even distribution of interest in large choral forms.

FOOTNOTES:

[72] Score in the Royal Library, Dresden.

[73] Fétis proves in his _Biographie universelle_ how materially Scarlatti influenced a more extended branching out of violin technique.

[74] The first ecclesiastic who is known to have used a dramatic presentation of the Passion is St. Gregory Nazianzen (330-390).

[75] Winterfeld, in _Der Evangelische Kirchengesang_, states that the earliest known Passion-music composed by a Protestant was published in Keuchenthal’s book (Wittenberg, 1573), which contained a German version of the Passion with four-part music for the recitation and choruses.

[76] Though no accompaniment at all is indicated in the score of any of these Passion-oratorios, it is very probable that organ was used to accompany some parts.

[77] Édouard Devrient, Mendelssohn’s friend and helper in the Bach revival.

[78] Arthur Mees, ‘Choirs and Choral Music,’ p. 103.

[79] Haydn (1732-1809) was Mozart’s senior by 24 years and was, therefore, fifty-six years old when the thirty-two-year-old Mozart wrote his greatest symphonies--the ‘Jupiter,’ the ‘Apollo’ and the one in E-flat major.

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