Part 11

"L'Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato," the first two movements of which contain a musical setting of Milton's well-known poem, was written in the seventeen days from Jan. 19 to Feb. 6, 1740, and was first performed on the 27th of the latter month at the Royal Theatre, Lincoln's Inn Fields, London. Upon this occasion the first and second parts were preceded, according to the handbook, by "a new concerto for several instruments," and the third by "a new concerto on the organ," which was played by the composer himself. It was performed again Jan. 31, 1741, with the addition of ten new numbers to the music, which in the original manuscript appear at the end, marked by Handel, "l'Additione." At a still later period Handel omitted the third part ("Moderato") entirely, and substituted for it Dryden's "Ode on St. Cecilia's Day," which he composed in 1739.

The text of the first two parts is by Milton, Allegro, as is well known, chanting the praises of pleasure, Penseroso those of melancholy; Allegro represented by tenor and Penseroso by soprano, and each supported by a chorus which joins in the discussion of the two moods. There is a radical difference between the poem as Milton wrote it and as it appears set to Handel's music. Milton presented two distinct poems, though allied by antithesis, and Penseroso does not speak until Allegro has finished. In the poem as adapted for music they alternate in sixteen strophes and antistrophes. The adaptation of these two parts was made by Charles Jennens, who was a frequent collaborator with Handel.[27] He also suggested the addition of a third part, the Moderato, and wrote the words, in which he counsels both Allegro and Penseroso to take the middle course of moderation as the safest. The wisdom of the poet in suggesting the _via media_ is more to be commended than his boldness in supplementing Milton's stately verse with commonplaces, however wise they may have been. Chrysander, the German biographer of Handel presents a philosophical view of the case. He says:

"In the two pictures a deeply thoughtful mind has fixed for itself two far-reaching goals. With these the poem has reached its perfect end, and in the sense of its inventor there is nothing further to be added. The only possible, the only natural outlet was that into a _life of

## action_, according to the direction which the spirit now should take;

already it was the first step into this new domain which called forth the divided feeling. The two moods do not run together into any third mood as their point of union, but into active real life, as different characters, forever separate. Therefore 'Moderation' could not bring about the reconciliation; only life could do it; not contemplation, but deeds. Gladness and Melancholy are symptoms of a vigorous soul; moderation would be mediocrity. And herein lies the unpoetic nature of the addition by Jennens; read according to Milton, the concluding moral of a rich English land-owner whose inherited abundance points to nothing but a golden mean, and whose only real problem is to keep the balance in the lazy course of an inactive life, makes a disheartening impression."

The work as a whole is one of Handel's finest inspirations. The Allegro is bright and spirited throughout; the Penseroso grave and tender; and the Moderato quiet and respectable, as might be expected of a person who never experiences the enthusiasms of joy or the comforts of melancholy. The most of the composition is assigned to solo voices which carry on the discussion, though in the Moderato it is mainly the chorus which urges the sedate compromise between the two.

The work opens without overture, its place having originally been supplied by an orchestral concerto. In vigorous and very dramatic recitative Allegro bids "loathed Melancholy" hence, followed by Penseroso, who in a few bars of recitative far less vigorously consigns "vain, deluding joys" to "some idle brain;" Allegro replies with the first aria ("Come, come, thou Goddess fair"), a beautifully free and flowing melody, responded to by Penseroso, who in an aria of stately rhythm appeals to his goddess, "Divinest Melancholy." Now Allegro summons his retinue of mirth:--

"Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest and youthful jollity, Quips and cranks and wanton wiles, Nods and becks and wreathèd smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek, Sport, that wrinkled care derides, And Laughter, holding both his sides;"

and the chorus takes up the jovial refrain in the same temper. The aria itself is well known as the laughing song. Indeed, both aria and chorus are full of unrestrained mirth, and go laughingly along in genuine musical giggles.[28] The effect is still further enhanced by the next aria for Allegro ("Come and trip it as you go"), a graceful minuet, which is also taken by the chorus. After a recitative by Penseroso ("Come, pensive Nun"), and the aria, "Come, but keep thy wonted State" the first Penseroso chorus occurs ("Join with thee calm Peace and Quiet"), a short but beautiful passage of tranquil harmony. Once more in recitative Allegro bids "loathed Melancholy" hence, and then in the aria, "Mirth, admit me of thy Crew," leading into a chorus, sings of the lark, "startling dull Night" and bidding good-morrow at his window,--a brilliant number accompanied with an imitation of the lark's song. Penseroso replies with an equally brilliant song ("Sweet Bird, that shuns't the Noise of Folly"), in which the nightingale plays the part of accompaniment. Another aria by Allegro ("Mirth, admit me of thy Crew") gives an opportunity for a blithe and jocund hunting-song for the bass, followed by one of the most beautiful numbers in the work ("Oft on a Plat of rising Ground") sung by Penseroso, in which the ringing of the far-off curfew, "swinging slow, with sullen roar," is introduced with telling effect. This is followed by a quiet meditative aria ("Far from all Resorts of Mirth"), when once again Allegro takes up the strain in the two arias, "Let me wander not unseen," and "Straight mine Eye hath caught new Pleasures." The first part closes with the Allegro aria and chorus ("Or let the merry Bells ring round"), full of the very spirit of joy and youth; and ending with an exquisite harmonic effect as the gay crowd creep to bed, "by whispering winds soon lulled to sleep."

The second part begins with a stately recitative and aria by Penseroso ("Sometimes let gorgeous Tragedy"), followed by one of the most characteristic arias in the work ("But O, sad Virgin, that thy Power might raise!") in which the passage,

"Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing Such notes as warbled to the string Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek,"

is accompanied by long persistent trills that admirably suit the words. The next number ("Populous Cities please me then") is a very descriptive solo for Allegro, with chorus which begins in canon form for the voices and then turns to a lively movement as it pictures the knights celebrating their triumphs and the "store of ladies" awarding prizes to their gallants. Again Allegro in a graceful aria sings, "There let Hymen oft appear." It is followed by a charming canzonet ("Hide me from Day's garish Eye") for Penseroso, which leads to an aria for Allegro ("I'll to the well-trod Stage anon"), opening in genuinely theatrical style, and then changing to a delightfully melodious warble at the words,--

"Or sweetest Shakspeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild."

This is followed by three characteristic arias, "And ever, against eating Cares," "Orpheus himself may heave his Head," and "These Delights, if thou canst give,"--the last with chorus. Penseroso has a short chorus in plain but stately harmony ("There let the pealing Organ blow"), with pauses for the organ _ad libitum_, followed by the aria, "May at last my weary Age," and the majestic devotional fugued chorus, "These Pleasures, Melancholy, give!" which close the second part.

The third part, "Il Moderato," is rarely given, and the work may well close with the fugue that so beautifully and harmoniously ends the second part. It opens with an aria in which Moderato tenders the sage advice:--

"Come, with native lustre shine, Moderation, grace divine, Whom the wise God of nature gave, Mad mortals from themselves to save. Keep as of old the middle way, Nor deeply sad nor idly gay; But still the same in look and gait, Easy, cheerful, and sedate, Keep as of old the middle way."

With such didactic commonplaces as the above, Moderato commends temperance, health, contentment, frugality, equanimity, and chaste love, and bids them,--

"Come, with gentle hand restrain Those who fondly court their bane; One extreme with caution shunning, To another blindly running. Kindly teach how blest are they Who nature's equal rules obey, Who safely steer two rocks between, And prudent keep the golden mean."

Thus Mr. Jennens's mild philosophy goes on, one of his verses, "As steals the Morn upon the Night," set to a brilliant tenor and soprano duet, followed by the closing chorus, "Thy Pleasures, Moderation, give," in full, broad, rich harmony. There needs no other proof of Handel's genius, than that he could link such Tupperisms to his grand measures.

[27] Jennens was an amateur poet of the period, descended from a manufacturing family of Birmingham, from whom he inherited a large fortune. He lived on terms of close intimacy with Handel, and was mentioned in his will. He died Nov. 20, 1773.

[28] I was lucky enough to meet with the approbation of Mr. Bates in the recitative of "Deeper and deeper still;" my next song was the laughing one. Mr. Harrison, my predecessor at those concerts, was a charming singer: his singing "Oft on a plat of rising ground," his "Lord, remember David," and "O come let us worship and fall down," breathed pure religion. No divine from the pulpit, though gifted with the greatest eloquence, could have inspired his auditors with a more perfect sense of duty to their Maker than Harrison did by his melodious tones and chaste style; indeed, it was faultless: but in the animated songs of Handel he was very deficient. I heard him sing the laughing song without moving a muscle, and determined, though it was a great risk, to sing it my own way, and the effect produced justified the experiment; instead of singing it with the serious tameness of Harrison, I laughed all through it, as I conceived it ought to be sung, and as must have been the intention of the composer. The infection ran; and their Majesties, and the whole audience, as well as the orchestra, were in a roar of laughter, and a signal was given from the royal box to repeat it, and I sang it again with increased effect.--_Michael Kelly's Reminiscences_, 1789.

HATTON.

John Liphot Hatton, a composer well known in America, not only by his songs and other works, but also by his visits here, was born in Liverpool in 1809. Though his early musical education was very scanty, he soon became known as a composer after his removal to London in 1832, and his works met with a very cordial reception. In 1842 he became conductor at Drury Lane Theatre, and while acting in that capacity brought out one of his operettas, called "The Queen of the Thames." In 1844 he went to Vienna and produced his opera "Pascal Bruno." Shortly afterwards he issued several songs under the _nom de plume_ of "Czapek," which secured for themselves widespread popularity. In 1848 he came to this country, and some years later made a concert-tour here. Upon his return to England he assumed direction of the music at the Princess' Theatre, and while engaged there wrote incidental music for "Macbeth," "Sardanapalus," "Faust and Marguerite," "King Henry VIII.," "Pizarro," "King Richard II.," "King Lear," "The Merchant of Venice," and "Much Ado About Nothing." In 1856 he wrote "Robin Hood," a cantata; in 1864 the opera "Rose, or Love's Ransom," for Covent Garden; and in 1877 "Hezekiah," a sacred drama, which was performed at the Crystal Palace. He has also written a large number of part songs, which are great favorites with quartet clubs, and nearly two hundred songs which are very popular; among them, "Good-by, Sweetheart, good-by," which has been a stock piece with concert tenors for years, and which the late Signor Brignoli used to sing with excellent effect. His music is specially characterized by grace and melodiousness. Hatton died in 1886.

Robin Hood.

The pastoral cantata of "Robin Hood" was written for the Bradford (England) Triennial Festival of 1856, Sims Reeves creating the part of the hero. Its name suggests the well-known story of the greenwood outlaw which has been charmingly versified by George Linley in the libretto. The personages are Maid Marian, Robin Hood, Little John, and "The Bishop." Maid Marian, it will be remembered, was the mistress who followed Robin into the Sherwood Forest and shared his wild life; and Little John was his stalwart lieutenant, whose name was transposed after he joined the band, thus heightening the incongruity between his name and his great size. The incident contained in Linley's poem appears to have been suggested by Robin Hood's penchant for capturing bishops and other ecclesiastics, notwithstanding his religious professions, which were exemplified by the retention of Friar Tuck as chaplain in the bold archer's household; or it may be based upon the historical story of the expedition which Edward II. and some of his retainers, disguised as monks, made into the forest for the purpose of exterminating the outlaws and thus stopping their slaughter of the royal deer. As the old story goes, they were led into an ambuscade by a forester who had agreed to conduct them to the haunts of Robin, and were captured. When Robin recognized the King in the disguise of the abbot, he craved forgiveness for himself and his band, which was granted upon condition that he should accompany his sovereign to Court and take a place in the royal household. The old collection of ballads, "The Lytell Geste of Robyn Hood," tells the same story and continues it, relating how after "dwelling in the Kynge's courte" a year, he tired of it and obtained permission to make a visit to the woods again, but forfeited his word and never returned, dying at last in Kirklees priory, through the treachery of the abbess, and how in his last moments he blew a loud blast on his horn, summoning Little John from the forest, to whom, after he had forced his way into his chamber, the dying Robin said:

"Give me my bent bow in my hand, And an arrow I'll let free, And where that arrow is taken up, There let my grave digged be."

The cantata opens with a chorus of the outlaws, who vigorously assert their independence of tribute, laws, and monarchs, followed by a bombastic bass aria by the Bishop, who threatens them for destroying the King's deer. His grandiloquence is speedily interrupted by the outlaws, with Robin at their head, who surround him without further ado and make him the butt of their sport. Robin Hood sings a charmingly melodious ballad, "Under the Greenwood Tree," in which the Bishop is invited to become one of their number and share their sylvan enjoyments. A trio and chorus follow, in the course of which the Bishop parts with his personal possessions in favor of the gentlemen around him in Lincoln green with "bent bows." A chorus ("Strike the Harp") also informs us that the ecclesiastic is forced to dance for the genial band much against his will as well as his dignity. Robin's sentimentalizing about the pleasures under the greenwood tree is still further emphasized by a madrigal for female voices, supposed to be sung by the forest maidens, though their identity is not very clear, as Marian was the only maid that accompanied the band. After the plundering scene, the cantata grows more passionate in character, describing a pretty and tender love-scene between Robin and Marian, which is somewhat incongruous, whether Marian be considered as the outlaw's mistress, or, as some of the old chroniclers have it, his wife Matilda, who changed her name when she followed him into the forest. From the musical standpoint, however, it affords an opportunity for another graceful ballad of sentiment, in which Marian describes her heart as "a frail bark upon the waters of love;" a duet in which the lovers passionately declare their love for each other as well as their delight with the forest; and a final chorus of the band, jubilantly proclaiming their hatred of kings and courtiers, and their loyalty to Robin Hood and Maid Marian. It may be worthy of note in this connection that Bishop, the English composer, wrote a legendary opera called "Maid Marian, or the Huntress of Arlingford," in which the heroine is Matilda.

HAYDN.

Joseph Haydn, the creator of the symphony and the string quartet, was born at Rohrau, a little Austrian village on the river Leitha, March 31, 1732. His father was a wheelwright and his mother a cook, in service with Count Harrach. Both the parents were fond of music, and both sang, the father accompanying himself upon the harp, which he played by ear. The child displayed a voice so beautiful that in his sixth year he was allowed to study music, and was also given a place in the village church-choir. Reutter, the capellmeister of St. Stephen's, Vienna, having heard him, was so impressed with the beauty of his voice that he offered him a position as chorister. Haydn eagerly accepted it, as it gave him an opportunity for study. While in the service of St. Stephen's he had lessons on the violin and piano, as well as in composition. When his voice broke, and his singing was of no further value, he was thrown upon the tender mercies of the world. Fortune favored him, however. He obtained a few pupils, and gave himself to composition. He made the acquaintance of Metastasio, Porpora, and Gluck. His trios began to attract attention, and he soon found himself rising into prominence. In 1759, through the influence of a wealthy friend and amateur, he was appointed to the post of musical director and composer in the service of Count Morzin, and about this time wrote his first symphony. When the Count dismissed his band, Prince Paul Anton Esterhazy received him as his second capellmeister, under Werner. When the latter died, in 1766, Haydn took his place as sole director. His patron meanwhile had died, and was succeeded by his son Nicolaus, between whom and Haydn there was the utmost good feeling. Up to this time Haydn had written thirty symphonies, a large number of trios, quartets, and several vocal pieces. His connection with the Prince lasted until 1790, and was only terminated by the latter's death. During this period of twenty-eight years his musical

## activity was unceasing; and as he had an orchestra of his own, and his

patron was ardently devoted to music, the incentive to composition was never lacking. Anton succeeded Nicolaus, and was generous enough to increase Haydn's pension; but he dismissed the entire chapel, and the composer took up his abode in Vienna. He was hardly established before he received a flattering proposition from Salomon, the manager, to go to England. He had already had many pressing invitations from others, but could not accept them, owing to his engagement to Esterhazy. Now that he was free, he decided to make the journey. On New Year's Day, 1791, he arrived in London. Success greeted him at once. He became universally popular. Musicians and musical societies paid him devoted attention. He gave a series of symphony concerts which aroused the greatest enthusiasm. He was treated with distinguished courtesy by the royal family. Oxford gave him the honorary degree of Doctor of Music. The nobility entertained him sumptuously. After a year of continuous fêtes he returned to Germany, where he remained two years, during a portion of which time Beethoven was his pupil. In 1794 he made his second journey to England, where his former successes were repeated, and fresh honors were showered upon him. In 1804 he was notified by Prince Esterhazy that he was about to reorganize his chapel, and wished him for its conductor again. Haydn accordingly returned to his old position, where he remained during the rest of his life. He was already an old man, but it was during this period that his most remarkable works were produced, among them the Austrian National Hymn ("Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser"), the "Seven Words," the "Creation," the "Seasons," and many of his best trios and quartets. He died May 31, 1809, a few days after the occupation of Vienna by the French, and among the mourners at his funeral were many French officers. Funeral services were held in all the principal European cities. Honored and respected all over Europe, he was most deeply loved by his own countrymen, who still affectionately speak of him as "Papa" Haydn.

The Seven Words.

"The Seven Words of Jesus on the Cross," sometimes called "The Passion," was written by Haydn in 1785, for the cathedral of Cadiz, upon a commission from the chapter for appropriate music for Good Friday. It was at first composed as an instrumental work, consisting of seven adagio movements, and in this form was produced in London by the composer himself as a "Passione instrumentale." He afterwards introduced solos and choruses, and divided it into two parts, separating them by a largo movement for wind instruments. It was then given at Eisenstadt in 1797, and four years later was published in the new form, with the following preface by the composer himself:--

About fifteen years ago I was applied to by a clergyman in Cadiz, and requested to write instrumental music to the seven words of Jesus on the cross. It was then customary every year, during Lent, to perform an Oratorio in the Cathedral at Cadiz, the effect of which the following arrangements contributed to heighten. The walls, windows, and columns of the church were hung with black cloth, and only one large lamp, hanging in the centre, lighted the solemn and religious gloom. At noon all the doors were closed, and the music began. After a prelude, suited to the occasion, the bishop ascended the pulpit, pronounced one of the seven words, which was succeeded by reflections upon it. As soon as these were ended he descended from the pulpit and knelt before the altar. The pause was filled by music. The bishop ascended and descended again a second, a third time, and so on; and each time the orchestra filled up the intervals in the discourse.

My composition must be judged on a consideration of these circumstances. The task of writing seven adagios, each of which was to last about ten minutes, to preserve a connection between them, without wearying the hearers, was none of the lightest, and I soon found that I could not confine myself within the limits of the time prescribed.

The music was originally without text, and was printed in that form. It was only at a later period that I was induced to add the text. The Oratorio entitled "The Seven Words of our Redeemer on the Cross," as a complete and, as regards the vocal parts, an entirely new work, was first published by Messrs. Breitkopf and Härtel, of Leipsic. The

## partiality with which this work has been received by scientific

musicians leads me to hope that it will not be without effect on the public at large.

Joseph Haydn.

Vienna, March 1, 1880.