The Standard Oratorios Part 3

The Requiem.

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

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

"I am deeply touched by the n.o.ble abnegation which leads you to refuse your admirable Requiem for the ceremony of the Invalides. Be convinced of my heartiest grat.i.tude."

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

First, he was not of a religious nature. Hiller, in the work already quoted, says of him:

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

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

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

The "Dies Irae" is the most spirited as well as impressive number of the work. It is intensely dramatic in its effects, indeed it might be called theatrical. Berlioz seems to have fairly exhausted the resources of instruments to produce the feeling of awful sublimity and overwhelming power, even to the verge of the most daring eccentricity and, as one prominent critic expressed it, "terrible cataclysms." The first part of the "Dies Irae" will always be remarkable for the orchestral arrangement.

After the climax of the motive, "Quantus tremor est futurus," there is a pause which is significant by its very silence; it is the hush before the storm. Suddenly from either angle of the stage or hall, in addition to the princ.i.p.al orchestra in front, four smaller bands of trombones, trumpets, and tubas crash in with overwhelming power in the announcement of the terrors of the day of judgment. The effect is like that of peal upon peal of thunder. At its culmination the ba.s.s voices enter in unison upon the words, "Tuba mirum," in the midst of another orchestral storm, which is still further heightened by an unusual number of kettledrums.

From the beginning to the close, this part of the "Dies Irae" is simply cyclopean; words cannot describe its overwhelming power. It is a relief when the storm has pa.s.sed over, and we come to the next verse ("Quid sum miser"), for the ba.s.ses and tenors, though mostly for the first tenors.

It is a breathing spell of quiet delight. It is given in the softest of tone, and is marked in the score to be sung with "an expression of humility and awe." It leads to the andante number ("Rex tremendae majestatis"), which is sung fortissimo throughout, and accompanied with another tremendous outburst of harmonious thunder in cras.h.i.+ng chords, which continues up to the last eight bars, when the voices drop suddenly from the furious fortissimo to an almost inaudible pianissimo on the words "Salve me." The next verse ("Quaerens me") is an unaccompanied six-part chorus in imitative style, of very close harmony. The "Dies Irae"

ends with the "Lachrymosa," the longest and most interesting number in the work. It is thoroughly melodic, and is peculiarly strengthened by a pathetic and sentimental accompaniment, which, taken in connection with the choral part against which it is set, presents an almost inexhaustible variety of rhythms and an originality of technical effects which are astonis.h.i.+ng. Its general character is broad and solemn, and it closes with a return to the "Dies Irae," with full chorus and all the orchestras.

This finishes the "Dies Irae" section of the work.

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

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

Berlioz says:--

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

"Now, listen attentively.

"The various groups of instruments in the orchestra were tolerably widely separated, especially the four bra.s.s bands introduced in the 'Tuba mirum,' each of which occupied a corner of the entire orchestra.

There is no pause between the 'Dies Irae' and 'Tuba mirum,' but the pace of the latter movement is reduced to half what it was before. At this point the whole of the bra.s.s enters, first altogether, and then in pa.s.sages, answering and interrupting, each a third higher than the last. It is obvious that it is of the greatest importance that the four beats of the new tempo should be distinctly marked, or else the terrible explosion which I had so carefully prepared, with combinations and proportions never attempted before or since, and which, rightly performed, gives such a picture of the Last Judgment as I believe is destined to live, would be a mere enormous and hideous confusion.

"With my habitual mistrust, I had stationed myself behind Habeneck, and, turning my back on him, overlooked the group of kettledrums, which he could not see, when the moment approached for them to take part in the general _melee_. There are perhaps one thousand bars in my Requiem.

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

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

BRAHMS.

Johannes Brahms, one of the most eminent of living German composers, was born at Hamburg, May 7, 1833. His father was a double-ba.s.s player in the orchestra in that city, and devoted his son at a very early age to his own profession. His first piano teacher was Cossell; but to Eduard Marxsen, the Royal Music Director, he owes his real success as a composer. Brahms remained in Hamburg until 1853, when he went upon a concert-tour with Remenyi, 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 partners.h.i.+p was dissolved. In any event, soon after leaving Remenyi he went to Dusseldorf and visited Schumann. It was the latter who announced him to the world in such strong words as these:--

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

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

The German Requiem.

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

Thomas's direction.

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

COSTA.

Michael Costa, the eminent conductor and composer, was born at Naples, Feb. 4, 1810. Having displayed musical apt.i.tude at a very early age, he was placed in the Royal Academy of Music. Before his twenty-first year he had composed several works, among them a ma.s.s for four voices, a "Dixit Dominus," three symphonies, an oratorio, "La Pa.s.sione," the ballet music to "Kenilworth," and the operas, "Il Delitto punito," "Il Sospetto funesto," "Il carcere d' Ildegonda," and "Malvina,"--the last for the San Carlo at Naples. In 1829 he was sent to England by his master Zingarelli to conduct one of the latter's compositions at Birmingham; and that country thereafter became his home. The next year he was engaged at the King's Theatre, now known as Her Majesty's, as piano-master, and two years later became the musical director. He was the first to bring the band to its proper place, though he had to make a hard fight against the ballet, which at that time threatened to absorb both singers and orchestra, and to sweep the musical drama from the stage. He succeeded, however, and did much also to improve the composition of the orchestra.

While holding this position he wrote the ballets, "Une heure a Naples"

and "Sir Huon" for Taglioni, and "Alma" for Cerito, the beautiful quartet, "Ecco quel fiero istante," and the operas "Malek Adhel" for Paris in 1837, and "Don Carlos" for London in 1844. He remained at Her Majesty's Theatre for fifteen years, during which time he did a great work for singers and band, and reduced the ballet to its proper rank. In 1846 he left his position and went to the new Italian opera at Covent Garden, where he remained for a quarter of a century, absolute in his musical supremacy and free to deal with all works as he pleased, among them those of Meyerbeer, at that time the most prominent composer in the operatic world; for Wagner as yet was scarcely known. It is to Costa that Meyerbeer owes his English reputation. In the same year (1846) he took the direction of the Philharmonic orchestra, and two years later that of the Sacred Harmonic Society, which he held until his death, and as conductor of which he also directed the Handel festivals. In 1849 he was engaged for the Birmingham festivals, and also conducted them until his death. In 1854 he resigned his position with the Philharmonic, and his successor, for a brief time only, was Richard Wagner. His oratorio, "Eli," was composed for the Birmingham Festival of 1855, and his second oratorio, "Naaman," for the same festival in 1864. In 1869 he was knighted, and shortly afterwards, when his "Eli" was produced at Stuttgart, it won for him the royal order of Frederick from the King of Wurtemberg. He also had decorations from the sovereigns of Germany, Turkey, Italy, and the Netherlands, in recognition of his musical accomplishments. In 1871 he returned again to Her Majesty's Opera in the capacity of "director of the music, composer, and conductor;" but a few years ago he again dissolved his connection with it, and devoted himself entirely to the private management and public direction of the Sacred Harmonic Society, with which he was identified for over thirty years. He died in April, 1884.

Eli.

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

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

Eli rebukes her, and a dialogue ensues, interrupted by the tender chorus, "The Lord is good." The dialogue form is again renewed, this time by Elkanah and Hannah, leading to a beautiful duet between them ("Wherefore is thy Soul cast down?").

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

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

The oratorio abounds in contrasts, and here occurs another, the evening prayer of Samuel ("This Night I lift my Heart to Thee"),--a pure, quiet melody, gradually dying away as he drops asleep, and followed by an angel chorus for female voices with harp accompaniment ("No Evil shall befall thee"), the effect of which is very beautiful, especially in the decrescendo at the close. A messenger suddenly arrives, announcing the defeat of Israel by the Philistines, upon which the chorus bursts out with one of the most telling numbers, both in the voice parts and the descriptiveness of the accompaniment ("Woe unto us, we are spoiled!").

Some very dramatic recitative between Samuel and Eli follows, after which the Levites join in the chorus, "Bless ye the Lord," opening with the tenors and closing in four parts, with the call of Eli intervening ("Watchmen, what of the Night?"). A long recitative by Samuel ("The Lord said"), foreshadowing the disasters to the house of Eli; an air by Eli ("Although my House be not with G.o.d"); a funeral chorus by the Israelites ("Lament with a doleful Lamentation"); further phrases of recitative announcing more defeats of Israel, the capture of the ark, the death of Eli and his sons, and an appeal by Samuel to blow the trumpet, calling a solemn a.s.sembly to implore the pity of the Lord,--prepare the way for the final chorus ("Blessed be the Lord"), closing with a fugue on the word "Hallelujah."

The oratorio was first given in this country by the Boston Handel and Haydn Society, Feb. 15, 1857, under the direction of Carl Zerrahn, with Mr. Thomas Ball as Eli and also as Saph, Mr. Wilde as the Man of G.o.d, Mr.

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