Part 5
The "Damnation of Faust," dramatic legend, as Berlioz calls it, was written in 1846. It is divided in four parts, the first containing three, the second four, the third six, and the fourth five scenes, the last concluding with an epilogue and the apotheosis of Marguerite. It was first produced in Paris in November, 1846, and had its first hearing in this country Feb. 12, 1880, when the late Dr. Leopold Damrosch brought it out with the assistance of the New York Symphony, Oratorio, and Arion Societies.
Berlioz has left in his Autobiography an extremely interesting account of the manner in which he composed it. Though he had had the plan of the work in his mind for many years, it was not until 1846 that he began the legend. During this year he was travelling on a concert-tour through Austria, Hungary, Bohemia, and Silesia, and the different numbers were written at intervals of leisure. He says:--
"I wrote when I could and where I could; in the coach, on the railroad, in steamboats, and even in towns, notwithstanding the various cares entailed by my concerts."
He began with Faust's invocation to Nature, which was finished "in my old German post-chaise." The introduction was written in an inn at Passau, and at Vienna he finished up the Elbe scene, Mephistopheles' song, and the exquisite Sylph's ballet. As to the introduction of the Rákóczy march, his words deserve quoting in this connection, as they throw some light on the general character of the work. He says:--
"I have already mentioned my writing a march at Vienna, in one night, on the Hungarian air of Rákóczy. The extraordinary effect it produced at Pesth made me resolve to introduce it in Faust, by taking the liberty of placing my hero in Hungary at the opening of the act, and making him present at the march of a Hungarian army across the plain. A German critic considered it most extraordinary in me to have made Faust travel in such a place. I do not see why, and I should not have hesitated in the least to bring him in in any other direction if it would have benefited the piece. I had not bound myself to follow Goethe's plot, and the most eccentric travels may be attributed to such a personage as Faust without transgressing the bounds of possibility. Other German critics took up the same thesis, and attacked me with even greater violence about my modifications of Goethe's text and plot; just as though there were no other Faust but Goethe's, and as if it were possible to set the whole of such a poem to music without altering its arrangement. I was stupid enough to answer them in the preface to the 'Damnation of Faust.' I have often wondered why I was never reproached about the book of 'Romeo and Juliet,' which is not very like the immortal tragedy. No doubt because Shakspeare was not a German. Patriotism! Fetichism! Idiotcy!"
One night when he had lost his way in Pesth he wrote the choral refrain of the "Ronde des Paysans" by the gaslight in a shop; and at Prague he arose in the middle of the night to write down the Angels' Chorus in Marguerite's apotheosis. At Breslau he wrote the Students' Latin Song, "Jam nox stellata velamina pandit;" and on his return to France he composed the grand trio in the work while visiting a friend near Rouen. He concludes:
"The rest was written in Paris, but always improvised, either at my own house, or at the café, or in the Tuileries gardens, and even on a stone in the Boulevard du Temple. I did not search for ideas, I let them come; and they presented themselves in a most unforeseen manner. When at last the whole outline was sketched, I set to work to re-do the whole, touch up the different parts, unite and blend them together with all the patience and determination of which I am capable, and to finish off the instrumentation, which had only been indicated here and there. I look upon this as one of my best works, and hitherto the public seems to be of the same opinion."
This opinion, however, was of slow growth, for of the first performance of the work he says:--
"It was the end of November, 1846; snow was falling; the weather was dreadful. I had no fashionable cantatrice to sing the part of Marguerite. As for Roger, who did Faust, and Herman Léon, who took the part of Mephistopheles, they might be heard any day in this same theatre; moreover, they were no longer the fashion. The result was that Faust was twice performed to a half-empty room. The concert-going Parisian public, supposed to be fond of music, stayed quietly at home, caring as little about my new work as if I had been an obscure student at the Conservatoire; and these two performances at the Opéra Comique were no better attended than if they had been the most wretched operas on the list."
The opening scene introduces Faust alone in the fields at sunrise on the Hungarian plains. He gives expression to his delight in a tender, placid strain ("The Winter has departed, Spring is here"). It is followed by an instrumental prelude of a pastoral character, in which are heard fragments of the roundelay of the peasants and of the fanfare in the Hungarian march, leading up to the "Dance of Peasants," a brisk, vivacious chorus ("The Shepherd donned his best Array"), beginning with the altos, who are finally joined by the sopranos, tenors, and basses in constantly accelerating time. The scene then changes to another part of the plain and discloses the advance of an army to the brilliant and stirring music of the Rákóczy march.[16]
The second part (Scene IV.) opens in north Germany and discloses Faust alone in his chamber, as in Gounod's opera; he sings a soliloquy, setting forth his discontent with worldly happiness, and is about to drown his sorrow with poison, when he is interrupted by the Easter Hymn ("Christ is risen from the Dead"), a stately and jubilant six-part chorus, in the close of which he joins. As it comes to an end he continues his song ("Heavenly Tones, why seek me in the Dust?"), but is again interrupted by the sudden apparition of Mephistopheles, who mockingly sings, "Oh, pious Frame of Mind," and entraps him in the compact. They disappear, and we next find them in Auerbach's cellar in Leipsic, where the carousing students are singing a rollicking drinking-song ("O what Delight when Storm is crashing"). The drunken Brander is called upon for a song, and responds with a characteristic one ("There was a Rat in the Cellar Nest"), to which the irreverent students improvise a fugue on the word "Amen," using a motive of the song. Mephistopheles compliments them on the fugue, and being challenged to give them an air trolls out the lusty _lied_, "There was a King once reigning, who had a big black Flea," in the accompaniment of which Berlioz makes some very realistic effects. Amid the bravas of the drunken students they disappear again, and are next found in the flowery meadows of the Elbe, where Mephistopheles sings a most enchanting melody ("In this fair Bower"). Faust is lulled to slumber, and in his vision hears the chorus of the gnomes and sylphs ("Sleep, happy Faust"), a number of extraordinary beauty and fascinating charm. Its effect is still further heightened by the sylphs' ballet in waltz time. As they gradually disappear, Faust wakes and relates to Mephistopheles his vision of the "angel in human form." The latter promises to conduct him to her chamber, and they join a party of soldiers and students who will pass "before thy beauty's dwelling." The finale of the scene is composed of a stirring soldiers' chorus ("Stoutly-walled Cities we fain would win") and a characteristic students' song in Latin ("Jam nox stellata"), at first sung separately and then combined with great skill.
The third part begins with a brief instrumental prelude, in which the drums and trumpets sound the tattoo, introducing a scene in Marguerite's chamber, where Faust sings a passionate love-song ("Thou sweet Twilight, be welcome"), corresponding with the well-known "Salve dimora" in Gounod's garden scene. At its close Mephistopheles warns him of the approach of Marguerite and conceals him behind a curtain. She enters, and in brief recitative tells her dream, in which she has seen the image of Faust, and discloses her love for him. Then while disrobing she sings the ballad "There was a King in Thule." As its pathetic strains come to a close, the music suddenly changes and Mephistopheles in a characteristic strain summons the will-o'-the-wisps to bewilder the maiden. It is followed by their lovely and graceful minuet, in which Berlioz again displays his wonderful command of orchestral realism. It is followed by Mephistopheles' serenade ("Why dost thou wait at the Door of thy Lover?"), with a choral accompaniment by the will-o'-the-wisps, interspersed with demoniac laughter. The last number is a trio ("Angel adored") for Marguerite, Faust, and Mephistopheles, wonderfully expressive in its utterances of passion, and closing with a chorus of mockery which indicates the coming tragedy.
The fourth part opens with a very touching romance ("My Heart with Grief is heavy"), the familiar "Meine Ruh' ist hin" of Goethe, sung by Marguerite, and the scene closes with the songs of the soldiers and students heard in the distance. In the next scene Faust sings a sombre and powerful invocation to Nature ("O boundless Nature, Spirit sublime"). Mephistopheles is seen scaling the rocks and in agitated recitative tells his companion the story of Marguerite's crime and imprisonment. He bids him sign a scroll which will save him from the consequences of the deed, and Faust thus delivers himself over to the Evil One. Then begins the wild "Ride to Hell," past the peasants praying at the cross, who flee in terror as they behold the riders, followed by horrible beasts, monstrous birds, and grinning, dancing skeletons, until at last they disappear in an abyss and are greeted by the chorus of the spirits of hell in a tempest of sound, which is literally a musical pandemonium ("Has! Irimiru Karabras," etc.) in its discordant vocal strains and in the mighty dissonances and supernatural effects in the accompaniment. A brief epilogue, "On Earth," follows, in which Faust's doom is told, succeeded by a correspondingly brief one, "In Heaven," in which the seraphim plead for Marguerite. The legend closes with "Marguerite's Glorification," a jubilant double chorus announcing her pardon and acceptance among the blest.
[16] This march, though the best known of all Hungarian airs, is liable to be confounded with others bearing the same name. It forms one of the group of national patriotic melodies called into existence by the heroism of the Transylvanian prince Franz Rákótzy, who at the beginning of the last century fought with rare valor, though little success, against the dominating power of Austria. Who composed it remains as unknown as the authorship of its less familiar companions; but though the origin of the tune, like that of so many others which nations cherish, is veiled in mystery, the march has enjoyed an enviable prominence. It was proscribed by the Austrian Government in the bad days when Hungary was treated as a conquered appanage of the Hapsburgs; its performance was a criminal act, and the possession of printed or written copies, if suspected, brought down domiciliary visits from the police.--_Albert Hall Programmes_, 1874.
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 Edward 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, who announced him to the musical world in a very enthusiastic manner. The next year (1854) appeared his first works,--three sonatas, a trio and 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. 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. Among his most famous compositions are a funeral hymn for chorus and wind-band; the "German Requiem;" "Triumphlied," for double chorus and orchestra; "Schicksalslied," for chorus and orchestra; six symphonies; variations on a theme of Haydn, for orchestra; the "Tragic" and "Academic" overtures; besides several trios, quartets, quintets, sextets, concertos, and sonatas.
Triumphlied.
"Triumphlied" ("Song of Triumph") was written by Brahms in commemoration of the victories of German arms and the re-establishment of the Empire, and is dedicated to "the German Emperor Wilhelm I." It was first performed at the fifty-first festival of the Lower Rhine at Cologne in 1873. The text is a paraphrase of certain verses in the nineteenth chapter of Revelation, and reads as follows:--
"Hallelujah, praise the Lord! Honor and power and glory to God!
"For in righteousness and truth the Lord giveth judgment.
"Glory be to God, all ye His servants, and ye that fear Him, all both humble and mighty.
"Hallelujah, for the omnipotent God hath exalted His kingdom.
"O, be joyful, let all be glad, to Him alone give honor.
"Behold, the heavens opened wide, and yonder a snow-white horse, and on him sat one called Steadfast and Faithful, who warreth and judgeth all with righteousness.
"And he treads the wine-press of wrath of the Lord God Almighty.
"Lo! a great name hath he written upon his vesture and upon his girdle.
"A King of kings and Lord of lords! Hallelujah! Amen!"
The scriptural selections are divided into three movements, written for double chorus (with the exception of two short barytone solos), orchestra, and organ, and are introduced by a brief instrumental prelude of a solemn but animated and exultant character, in the closing measures of which both choirs break in with jubilant shouts of "Hallelujah! praise the Lord!" The theme of the movement is the stirring old German song "Heil dir im Siegerkranz,"[17] which is worked up with consummate skill. The first part closes with a climax of power and contrapuntal effect hardly to be found elsewhere outside the choruses of Handel.
The second movement ("Glory be to God!") is of the same general character as the first. After the opening ascription, a short fugue intervenes, leading to a fresh melody alternately sung by both choruses.
The third movement, after a very brief but spirited orchestral flourish, opens with an exultant barytone solo ("And behold then the Heavens opened wide"). The choruses respond with animation ("And yonder a snow-white Horse"). Again the barytone intervenes ("And lo! a great Name hath He written"), and then the choruses take up the majestic theme, "King of Kings and Lord of Lords," each answering the other with triumphant shouts that gather force and fire as they proceed, and closing with a mighty hallelujah in which voices, orchestra, and organ join with fullest power to produce one of the grandest harmonies ever written. The work is one of extreme difficulty, as the two choirs are treated independently and their harmonies are complicated, though blended in general effect. Neither choir receives assistance from the other. In fact, each rank of voices is required to perform music of the most exacting kind, so that a perfect performance of this great jubilee hymn requires singers of trained skill and more than ordinary intelligence. When thus given, few choruses of modern times reveal such artistic richness and symmetrical proportions.
[17] A German national song, written by Heinrich Harries, a Holstein clergyman, for the birthday of Christian VII. of Denmark. It was originally in eight stanzas, but was reduced to five and otherwise slightly modified for Prussian use by B. G. Schumacher, and in this form appeared as a "Berliner Volkslied" in the _Spenersche Zeitung_ of Dec. 17, 1793.--_Grove's Dictionary_.
BRUCH.
Max Bruch, one of the most successful choral composers of the present time, was born at Cologne, Jan. 6, 1838. His father was a government official, and his mother a singer of more than ordinary ability. He received his early instructions, under her watchful supervision, from Professor Breidenstein, at Bonn. In 1852 he continued his studies with Hiller, Reinecke, and Breuning, at Cologne; and at this time began to produce compositions which gave unusual promise. In 1865 he was musical director at Coblenz, and subsequently at Berlin, where he conducted the Singakademie. In 1867 he was appointed chapel-master to the Prince of Schwarzburg-Sondershausen,--a post which he held until 1870. Since that time he has also been honored with a call to the directorship of the Liverpool Philharmonic Society. For some years past he has lived at Bonn and Berlin, and devoted himself exclusively to composition. His first public appearance as a composer was in connection with the performance of his operetta, "Scherz, List und Rache," set to Goethe's words; following which he produced several chamber compositions, among them a trio (op. 5), two string quartets (op. 9, 10), Capriccio (op. 2) for four hands, Fantasie (op. 11) for two pianos, the G minor and D minor violin concertos, besides two symphonies. He has also written an oratorio, "Arminius," and two operas, "Loreley," to the text which the poet Geibel wrote for Mendelssohn, and "Hermione," an adaptation of Shakspeare's "Winter's Tale." His greatest successes, however, have been made with his works in the cantata form, as he is a recognized master in writing for large masses of voices and instruments, though many of his solo melodies possess great beauty. In this class of his compositions the most conspicuous are "Scenes from the Frithjof-Saga," familiarly known as "Frithjof," "Flight of the Holy Family," "Roman Triumph Song," "Roman Obsequies," "Salamis," "Fair Ellen," "Odysseus," and "Rorate Coeli."
Frithjof.
The story of the old Norse hero Frithjof is told with exceeding spirit and beauty in the "Frithjof's Saga" of Esaias Tegnér, Bishop of Wexiö, Sweden, which has been translated into almost every European language, and to which music has been adapted by Crusell, Hedda Wrangel, Boman, Sandberg, Zanders, Caroline Ridderstolpe, Panny, Silcher, and other Scandinavian and German composers. It was Bishop Tegnér's Saga from which Bruch derived the incidents of his musical setting of this stirring Norse theme.[18]
To make the text of the libretto intelligible, the incidents leading up to it must be briefly told. Frithjof was the son of Thorstein, a friend of King Bele of Baldershage, and was in love with Ingeborg, the king's daughter and his foster sister. Bele died, and left his kingdom to his two sons. When Thorstein passed away, he bequeathed to his son his ship "Ellida" and his gold ring. Soon thereafter Frithjof sailed across the fiord to demand the hand of Ingeborg. Her brothers Helge and Halfdan scorned his suit, whereupon Frithjof swore they should never have help from him. King Ring, a neighboring monarch, hearing of the trouble between them, improved the opportunity to menace their kingdom. The brothers appealed to Frithjof for aid, but he turned a deaf ear; and when they took the field against Bele, he returned to Baldershage and made love to Ingeborg, with whom he exchanged rings. Helge and Halfdan were defeated by Ring, and as part of the indemnity he demanded Ingeborg's hand. Finding upon their return that Frithjof had been there without their permission, they required him as a penalty to go to the Orkneys and collect the tribute which the islanders had neglected to pay since the death of Bele. Frithjof sailed away in "Ellida." Meanwhile the brothers resorted to witchcraft to raise a storm that should destroy his vessel, burned his barrow, and married the lamenting Ingeborg to Ring.
It is at this point that the text of the cantata begins. The first scene pictures the return of Frithjof and his joy at the prospect of seeing Ingeborg, whose hand the false brothers had promised him if he were successful. Learning what had occurred in his absence, Frithjof goes to the temple where the kings are sacrificing, hurls the tribute in Helge's face, fires the edifice, and hurries to the sea, pursued by his enemies. The hero sails away again in "Ellida," and becomes a sea-rover. The text closes with this incident. In the Saga, after gaining great fame, Frithjof returns and goes disguised as a salt-burner to Ring's palace. The king recognized him, and moved by his sad story became his friend and appointed him guardian of his heir. Ring died soon after, and Frithjof married Ingeborg. Helge and Halfdan made war against him, Helge was killed, and Halfdan became his vassal.
The cantata opens with an animated instrumental introduction, "Frithjof's Return," leading to the barytone recitative and aria ("How bravely o'er the Flood so bright"),--a very expressive song, interspersed with the tender, graceful chorus of his companions ("O, 'tis Delight when the Land far appeareth"). The second scene is preluded with a wedding march, whose blithe measures are in marked contrast with the bridal chorus ("Sadly the Skald walks before the Train"), and Ingeborg's song ("My Heart with Sorrow overflowing"), which describes her grief over her unhappy destiny. The third scene ("Frithjof's Revenge"), for barytone, chorus, and orchestra, is one of great power in its dramatic and descriptive character, as well as in its masterly instrumentation. It begins with a chorus of priests ("Midnight Sun on the Mountain burns"), gradually accelerating until it is interrupted by Frithjof's cry ("Go to Helas' dark Abode"). Three bars of chorus intervene ("Woe! O wicked Deed"), when Frithjof, after a short recitative, sings a spirited aria ("Where my Father rests"). At its close, as he rescues Ingeborg's ring and fires the temple, the chorus resumes ("Woe! he tugs with all his Might at the Ring"). The choral finale of this scene, with its effective instrumentation, is a masterpiece of dramatic music, worthy to rank with the highest work of its kind in opera. After the storm, the calm. In that calm occurs a melodical episode of an extraordinary character. The melody itself is so unlike anything which precedes or follows it that it must have been interpolated. In grateful contrast with the revenge of Frithjof, the burning of the temple, and the curses of the infuriated priests, comes the fourth scene, "Frithjof's Departure from the Northland,"--a solo quartet for male voices ("Sun in the Sky now mounteth high"), of exquisite harmony, leading up to and accompanying a barytone solo which has rarely been surpassed in the tender beauty of its melody or the majestic sonority of its style:[19]--
"World's grandest region, thou mighty North! From thy dominions I am driven forth; Within thy border I lov'd to dwell; Midsummer sun, farewell, farewell. Thou mighty North, farewell. My love is foiled, my roof-tree rent, Mine honor soiled, I in exile sent! Cheerless is my soul within me, Hopeless I must bear my lot. Ye rugged mountains, where heroes dwell, And Thor commandeth clouds and winds; Ye azure lakes, that I love so well, Ye woods and brakes, farewell."