Part 4
The legend of St. Cecilia for two centuries has inspired the poet and composer, and the custom of celebrating her festival has obtained in nearly all European countries during the same period. The earliest observance was at Evreux, France, in 1571. The first celebration in England of which any record remains was that of 1683; though it is clear from the accounts of musical writers in the seventeenth century that the custom had been practised many years prior to that date. From 1683 to 1750 St. Cecilia festivals were given annually in London, and for these occasions an ode was written and set to music.[13] In the latter year the distinctive name of the festival fell into disuse, though large musical festivals were frequently held after that year on the saint's day. In France regular entertainments were given on St. Cecilia's Day from 1573 to 1601, when the record terminates. In Italy the anniversary of the saint has not been celebrated except as a church festival. In Germany the custom prevailed as early as the sixteenth century; and in the next century Cecilia festivals were quite common in Spain. Prior to Benedict's work the most modern composition having the legend for its basis was a cantata by Van Bree, of Amsterdam, written in 1845.
These preliminaries will enable the reader the better to understand the introduction which Mr. Chorley has written to the text of the cantata by Benedict, composed for the Norwich Festival of 1866. Mr. Chorley says:--
"It has long been a favorite fancy of mine to treat the legend of St. Cecilia for music with a view to the possible revival of such celebrations as were held in gone-by years, when English sympathy for the art was more limited in every respect than at the present time. It is true that the names of Dryden and Addison among the poets, and of Handel among the musicians, who have made 'divine Cecilia's' praise immortal, might be thought to deter anyone from dealing with the subject. But theirs were merely votive odes indirectly bearing on the power of the art of which Cecilia is patron saint. This cantata of mine sets forth her story, which, so far as I am aware, has not been done before in any of the works produced for the Cecilian festivals in England. All who are familiar with the accepted legend, as told in the 'Legenda Aurea' of Jacobus Januensis, Archbishop of Genoa, will perceive that I have treated it with a certain liberty. Some of the minor incidents--such as the conversion and martyrdom of Tiburtius, the brother of Valerianus--have been omitted with a view of avoiding the introduction of secondary persons, and of concentrating the main interest in the martyr heroine. Further, the catastrophe which (to cite Dryden's known line in defiance of its original import)
"Raised a mortal to the skies,"
has been simplified. The legend narrates that after the agony of slow fire, which failed to kill the Christian bride, the sword ended her days. A literal adherence to this tradition might have weakened the closing scene by presenting two situations of the same character. Others must judge how far I have been indiscreet, or the reverse, in its omission."
The story of the cantata is strikingly similar to that which forms the theme of Donizetti's opera "Il Poliuto," though the manner of the conversions differs. In the former it is Valerianus, the lover of Cecilia, who is turned from heathenism by the angelic vision. In the latter it is Paulina, the wife of the Roman convert Polyutus, who witnesses the divine illumination and hears the celestial harps, which induce her to abjure the worship of the gods and join her husband in martyrdom. It is in fact the old, old story of the persecutions of a new faith by the old. Cecilia, though married to Valerianus, hears the divine call summoning the bride away from her lover until he shall have been converted. She appeals to Heaven in his behalf. A vision of angels appears to him and their songs win his soul. The infuriated prefect, who has but just performed the rites of their marriage, orders their death,--Valerianus to be beheaded, and Cecilia to die by the slow martyrdom of fire. The tragedy of the former is left to the imagination. Cecilia dies surrounded by the angels and hears their voices:--
"Before mine eyes, already dim, Doth heaven unclose the gate; I hear the choiring seraphim Around the throne that wait. To join the song of that bright choir Thy mercy sets me free; And so I triumph o'er the fire, And rise, O Lord, to Thee."
The work contains thirteen numbers, and the solos are divided as follows: Cecilia, soprano; Valerianus, tenor; the Prefect of Rome, bass; a Christian woman, contralto. The remaining numbers are assigned to choruses of Roman citizens, Christians, and angels. A tender and sorrowful prelude, foreshadowing the tragedy, introduces a bright and joyous wedding chorus ("Let the Lutes play their loudest"), which in its middle part is divided between male and female choir, returning to four-part harmony in the close. The next number is an ecstatic love-song for Valerianus ("The Love too deep for Words to speak"), which leads up to a scena and duet for Valerianus and Cecilia ("O my Lord, if I must grieve you"), which is very dramatic in its texture. The conversion music, including an obligato soprano solo with chorus of angels ("Praise the Lord"), recitative and air for tenor with choral responses ("Cease not, I pray you"), and an animated chorus of angels ("From our Home"), follows, and closes the first part.
The second part opens with the curse of the prefect, a very passionate aria for bass ("What mean these Zealots vile?"), following which in marked contrast is a lovely aria for contralto ("Father, whose Blessing we entreat"). The next number, a quartet with full choral accompaniment ("God is our Hope and Strength"), is one of the most effective in the work, and is followed by the trial scene, a duet between Valerianus and the prefect, the latter accompanied by chorus. A short funeral march intervenes. Valerianus and Cecilia bid each other farewell; the former is borne away, and Cecilia sings her dying song ("Those whom the Highest One befriends") amid the triumphant hallelujahs of the angels.
[13] The Ode for St. Cecilia's Day in 1683 was written by Christopher Fishburn and set to music by Purcell. The most famous odes of the next hundred years were as follows: "A song for St. Cecilia's Day, 1687," by John Dryden, originally composed by Draghi, afterwards by Handel; ode by Thomas d'Urfrey, music by Dr. Blow, 1691; "Alexander's Feast," by Dryden, original music by Jeremiah Clark afterwards composed by Handel, 1697; ode by Joseph Addison, composed by Purcell, 1699; "Hymn to Harmony," by Congreve, composed by John Eccles, 1701; ode by Pope in 1708, set to music in 1757 by William Walond; an ode by Christopher Smart, composed by William Russell, 1800.
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 his "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.
The May Queen.
"The May Queen," a pastoral cantata, the libretto by Henry F. Chorley, was first performed at the Leeds Festival of 1858. The solo parts are written for the May Queen (soprano); the Queen (contralto); the Lover (tenor); and the Captain of the Foresters, as Robin Hood (bass). The opening scene pictures the dressing of the tree for the spring festivity on the banks of the Thames, and the preparations for the reception of the May Queen. A despondent lover enters and sings his melancholy plight as he reflects upon the fickleness of the May Queen, interrupted at intervals by the merry shouts of the chorus:--
"With a laugh as we go round To the merry, merry sound Of the tabor and the pipe, We will frolic on the green; For since the world began, And our royal river ran, Was never such a May Day, And never such a Queen."
The lover continues his doleful lamenting, which is at last interrupted by the entrance of the May Queen herself, who chides him for his complaints and argues her right to coquet on such a day. As their interview closes, a band of foresters enter with their greenwood king, Robin Hood, at their head, who after a rollicking hunting-song makes open love to the May Queen. The enraged lover resents his impertinence, and at last strikes him a blow, which by the laws exposes him to the loss of his hand. Before he can make his escape there is a flourish of trumpets, and the Queen enters and demands the reason for the brawl. The revellers inform her that the lover has struck the forester. She orders his arrest, whereupon the May Queen intercedes with her for her lover's release and declares her affection for him. Her appeal for mercy is granted. The forester is banished from the royal presence for lowering himself to the level of a peasant girl, the May Queen is ordered to wed her lover on the coming morn, and all ends happily with the joyous chorus:--
"And the cloud hath passed away, That was heavy on the May; And the river floweth fair, And the meadow bloometh green. They embrace, no more to part, While we sing from every heart, A blessing on the bridal! A blessing on the Queen!"
The music of the cantata is divided into ten numbers, which are characterized by exquisite refinement and artistic taste. The solos,
## particularly No. 2, for tenor ("O Meadow, clad in early Green"), No. 4,
the obligato soprano ("With the Carol in the Tree"), and No. 6, the forester's lusty greenwood song ("'Tis jolly to hunt in the bright Moonlight"), are very melodious, and well adapted to the individual characters. The concerted music is written in the most scholarly manner, the choruses are full of life and spirit, and the instrumentation is always effective. There are few more beautiful cantatas than "The May Queen," though the composer was hampered by a dull and not very inspiring libretto. Poor words, however, could not affect his delightful grace and fancy, which manifest themselves in every number of this little pastoral. It is surprising that so excellent a work, and one which is so well adapted to chorus singing and solo display, without making very severe demands upon the singers, is not more frequently given in this country.
The Exhibition Ode.
The music for the opening of the International Exhibition at London, which occurred in May, 1862, was of unusual excellence. Auber sent a composition which, though called a march, was in reality a brilliant overture. Meyerbeer contributed an overture in march form, in which three marches were blended in one, the whole culminating in "Rule Britannia." Verdi wrote a cantata, which was rejected by the Commissioners because by the side of the national anthem he had introduced the revolutionary Marseillaise and the Italian war-song called "Garibaldienne." Its rejection not only caused great indignation in the musical world, but at once made it famous; and it was afterwards publicly performed, Mademoiselle Titiens taking the soprano solos, Sir Julius Benedict conducting.
The prominent feature of the musical programme, however, was the Ode which the poet laureate and Bennett conjointly furnished. Never before were Mr. Tennyson's verses more completely united with music. The work is divided into three parts, all choral, linked by recitatives. The first number is a hymn to the Deity ("Uplift a thousand Voices full and sweet"), written as a four-part chorale, which is very jubilant in style. The next movement,--
"O silent father of our kings to be, Mourned in this golden hour of jubilee, For this, for all, we weep our thanks to thee,"
eloquently referring to the Prince Consort, is set in the minor key, and is one of the most pathetic musical passages ever written. Then follows a descriptive catalogue of the industries represented,--"harvest tool and husbandry," "loom and wheel and engin'ry," and so on, through which the music labors some, as might have been expected; but in the close it once more resumes its melodious flow, leading up to the final chorus, in which the theme of the opening chorale is borrowed and developed with peculiar originality and artistic skill into a movement of great richness in effects and beauty in expression. It is unfortunate for the popularity of such an excellent work that it was composed for a special occasion.
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, 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 Triomphe;" 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.
Romeo and Juliet.
"Dramatic symphony, with choruses, solos, chant, and prologue in choral recitative" is the title which Berlioz gives to his "Romeo and Juliet." It was written in 1839, and its composition commemorates an interesting episode in his career. In the previous year he had written his symphony "Harold in Italy," the subject inspired by Byron's "Childe Harold." Paganini, the wonder of the musical world at that time, was present at its performance, and was so pleased with the work that he sent Berlioz an enthusiastic tribute of applause as well as of substantial remembrance.[14] The composer at that time was in straitened circumstances, and in his gratitude for this timely relief he resolved to write a work which should be worthy of dedication to the great violinist. His Autobiography bears ample testimony to the enthusiasm with which he worked. He says:--
"At last, after much indecision, I hit upon the idea of a symphony, with choruses, vocal solos, and choral recitatives, on the sublime and ever novel theme of Shakspeare's 'Romeo and Juliet.' I wrote in prose all the text intended for the vocal pieces which came between the instrumental selections. Émile Deschamps, with his usual delightful good-nature and marvellous facility, set it to verse for me, and I began....
"During all that time how ardently did I live! How vigorously I struck out on that grand sea of poetry caressed by the playful breeze of fancy, beneath the hot rays of that sun of love which Shakspeare kindled, always confident of my power to reach the marvellous island where stands the temple of true art! Whether I succeeded or not it is not for me to decide."
The work opens with a fiery introduction representing the combats and tumults of the two rival houses of Capulet and Montague, and the intervention of the Prince. It is followed by a choral recitative for four altos, tenors, and basses ("Long smouldering Hatreds"), with which is interwoven a contralto solo ("Romeo too is there"), the number closing with a passionate chorus ("The Revels now are o'er"). A beautiful effect is made at this point by assigning to the alto voice two couplets ("Joys of first Love") which are serious in style but very rich in melody. A brief bit of choral recitative and a few measures for tenor--Mercutio's raillery--lead up to a dainty scherzetto for tenor solo and small chorus ("Mab! bright Elf of Dreamland"), and a short choral passage brings this scene to a close.
The second scene, which is for orchestra only, an impressive declamatory phrase developing into a tender melody, representing the sadness of Romeo, set in tones against the brilliant dance music in the distance accompanying the revel of the Capulets, is one of the most striking effects Berlioz has accomplished, and illustrates his astonishing command of instrumentation. The third scene represents Capulet's garden in the stillness of night, the young Capulets passing through it, bidding each other adieu and repeating snatches of the dance music. As their strains die away in the distance the balcony scene between Romeo and Juliet is given by the orchestra alone in a genuine love-poem full of passion and sensuousness. No words could rival the impassioned beauty of this melodious number. The fourth scene is also given to the orchestra, and is a setting of Mercutio's description of Queen Mab. It is a scherzo intensely swift in its movement and almost ethereal in its dainty, graceful rhythm. The instrumentation is full of subtle effects,
## particularly in the romantic passages for the horns.
In the fifth scene we pass from the tripping music of the fairies to the notes of woe. It describes the funeral procession of Juliet, beginning with a solemn march in fugue style, at first instrumental, with occasional entrances of the voices in monotone, and then vocal ("O mourn, O mourn, strew choicest Flowers"), the monotone being assigned to the instruments. It preludes a powerful orchestral scene representing Romeo's invocation, Juliet's awakening, and the despair and death of the lovers.[15] The finale is mainly for double chorus, representing the quarrel between the Montagues and Capulets in the cemetery, which is written with great dramatic power and conceived on the large scale of an operatic _ensemble_ both in the voice parts and instrumentation, and the final reconciliation through the intercession of Friar Laurence, whose declamatory solos are very striking, particularly the air, "Poor Children mine, let me mourn you." The work is one of almost colossal difficulty, and requires great artists, singers and players, to give expression to its daring realism. Among all of Berlioz's programme-music, this tone-picture of the principal episodes in Shakspeare's tragedy stands out clear and sharp by virtue of its astonishing dramatic power.
[14] My dear Friend,--Beethoven is dead, and Berlioz alone can revive him. I have heard your divine composition, so worthy of your genius, and beg you to accept, in token of my homage, twenty thousand francs, which will be handed to you by the Baron de Rothschild on presentation of the enclosed.--Your most affectionate friend, Nicolo Paganini. Paris, Dec. 18, 1838.
[15] Composer's Note. The public has no imagination; therefore pieces which are addressed solely to the imagination have no public. The following instrumental scene is in this case, and I think it should be omitted whenever this symphony is given before an audience not having a feeling for poetry, and not familiar with the fifth act of Shakspeare's tragedy. This implies its omission ninety-nine times out of a hundred. It presents, moreover, immense difficulties of execution. Consequently, after Juliet's funeral procession a moment of silence should be observed, then the finale should be taken up.
The Damnation of Faust.