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                   *       *       *       *       *




                           THE ART OF MUSIC


                           The Art of Music

                A Comprehensive Library of Information
                    for Music Lovers and Musicians

                            Editor-in-Chief
                         DANIEL GREGORY MASON
                          Columbia University


                           Associate Editors

           EDWARD B. HILL                  LELAND HALL
         Harvard University      Past Professor, Univ. of Wisconsin


                            Managing Editor

                           CÉSAR SAERCHINGER
                   Modern Music Society of New York

                          In Fourteen Volumes
                         Profusely Illustrated

                            [Illustration]

                               NEW YORK
                     THE NATIONAL SOCIETY OF MUSIC


                  [Illustration: The Singing Angels]
               _Altar piece by Hubert and Jan van Eyck_




                     THE ART OF MUSIC: VOLUME SIX

                        Choral and Church Music

                     ROSSETTER GLEASON COLE, M.A.

                            Introduction by
                       FRANK DAMROSCH, Mus. Doc.

       Director Institute of Musical Art in the City of New York
           Conductor, Musical Art Society of New York, etc.


                            [Illustration]


                               NEW YORK
                     THE NATIONAL SOCIETY OF MUSIC


                          Copyright, 1915, by
                  THE NATIONAL SOCIETY OF MUSIC, Inc.
                         [All Rights Reserved]




                            PREFATORY NOTE


The field of choral and church music is so vast and the subject so
inclusive that the author has felt the constant pressure of the
necessity for sifting and abbreviating and condensing the voluminous
material at hand in order not to go far beyond the prescribed limits
of this volume. He has resolutely shut his eyes to the allurements of
the many by-paths that constantly beckoned away from the historical
highway he was appointed to tread; and he has endeavored to keep this
object constantly in mind--to trace the development of the forces and
tendencies from which have sprung the various musical forms that have
gone to make up the literature of choral and church music as century
followed century. In this volume, therefore, the great personalities
of musical history will receive far less attention than the particular
musical forms and art-tendencies that flowed from their, oft-times,
combined creative activities.

While a large number of choral and organ works of every class have been
analyzed with much detail and a still larger number given definite
classification, it is hoped that the historical summaries and the
discussions of styles and periods, scattered throughout this volume,
will be even more helpful to the reader in enabling him to place
any given musical work in its true musical, as well as historical,
perspective. It is a matter of some regret that from sheer lack
of space several interesting and wholly relevant topics--such as
hymnology, contemporaneous church music, the whole relation of music to
the present-day church, etc.--must be left untouched. In the chapters
on contemporaneous choral music, it was necessary for the same reason
to shut out of consideration the whole field of short cantata (for
church choirs, and for female and male chorus), though the number of
really fine works here is quite amazing. Contemporaneous choral music
is fully discussed in three chapters and a large number of works are
adequately described, though for obvious reasons critical estimates are
in the main impossible from the very propinquity of these works.

Grateful acknowledgment is here made to Mr. Frederick H. Martens and to
Mr. Reginald L. McAll for the contribution of the comprehensive chapter
on the history of the organ (Chapter XIV), at the end of which their
initials will be found; also to Mr. Wilhelm Middelschulte, organist
of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, for many critical suggestions,
especially on the organ-works of Bach, Widor and Reger. In this
connection the author wishes to give full and grateful recognition to
the valuable assistance of his wife in gathering and verifying much
historical material.

                                              ROSSETTER G. COLE.

Chicago, August, 1915.


                        CHORAL AND CHURCH MUSIC




                             INTRODUCTION


“And suddenly there was with the Angel a multitude of the heavenly
host praising God and saying, Glory to God in the highest and on earth
peace, good will toward men.”

This choir of angels (for can we conceive of a multitude of angels
announcing this message otherwise than in well-ordered song?) typifies
the mission of choral singing.

Whenever human beings unite in expressing noble thoughts in noble
music, their message also is one of good will. Their speech is rendered
in rhythmic cadence, intoned in harmonious concord and made expressive
by melody; they are bound together in amicable union for a common
purpose; they willingly submit to the discipline of a controlling mind;
their object is to put beauty into the world and the peace and harmony
which are required to make their work effective are communicated to
those who hear them and whose souls they cause to vibrate in unison
with their music.

It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that the practice of choral
singing dates back to very early times. Not, of course, in the way in
which we understand the term to-day, as an art-form, but in cruder
forms of singing or chanting in unison such as may still be heard among
uncivilized or half-civilized tribes.

The desire to unite in the performance of religious rites, in prayers
for rain or in praise of the deity; in the mutual encouragement to do
battle against a common foe; in the celebration of seasonal changes,
in rejoicing over the gifts of nature or the fruits of their toil at
harvest time--all these common feelings induce a common expression and
stimulate choral singing.

The development from these crude forms to the art-forms of the present
has not only extended over a long period, but has been affected and
influenced by many and various factors. For purposes of discussion we
may divide these into two main classes: the Church and the Folk-song.
These two factors have brought to the evolution of choral singing
certain elements which, though diametrically opposed, yet most happily
complement each other, namely, obedience to law and freedom of
expression.

In the nature of things music in the Church--the Roman Catholic and
the Greek Orthodox--had to adapt itself to the strict canons of the
Liturgy. As the service became more and more elaborate and it was
realized that music exerted a strong spiritualizing influence, its use
was extended until it became one of the principal features in the Mass
and required the participation of not only the regular clergy, but of
numerous trained auxiliaries. Thus it came to pass that the Church, to
satisfy its need for canonic music--that is, for music which met the
liturgic requirements, preserved the dignity of the text and enhanced
the devotional attitude--stimulated the efforts toward greater beauty,
variety, and dignity of expression. Every monastery, every cathedral
contributed something to this evolutionary process until this primary
stage of choral development culminated in the work of Palestrina. This
was accomplished by slow stages. The art of counterpoint, which forms
the basis of this art-form, grew very gradually from the combination
of two voices to that of three, four, or more and incidentally caused
to be discovered certain art-forms, such as the canon and the fugue,
based upon the principle of imitation, which have been employed by all
the great masters of musical composition to the present day.

Let us now, for a moment, leave this field of choral development and
go into a small village in Russia. It is evening. The villagers are
assembled under the spreading branches of an old linden tree whose
blossoms perfume the still air as the moon rises above the forest.
Presently one of the villagers intones a song. It is known to all, has
been handed down from generation to generation. No one knows whence
it came--it seems always to have been there and it is interwoven with
the memories and emotions of all the people of the village and of the
whole countryside. In a word--it is a folk-song. One after another
the villagers join in, some in unison with the tune, but others,
finding the range too high, endeavor to find tones which sound in
pleasing consonance, and so, gradually, there is evolved a full harmony
accompanying the melody of the song. Has anyone taught the villagers
the science of harmony? Of course not, but, just as the beautiful
melody grew out of the people’s hearts and in the course of generations
molded itself into a perfect tune, so gradually the sense for good
harmony grew and caused the elimination of unpleasing progressions.
Sometimes such a song tells a story which is developed in many stanzas.
Then a ‘foresinger’ will chant the stanzas and the villagers will sing
a choral refrain, thus taking active part in the recital.

This, then, is the other source of choral singing which, meeting the
stream coming from the church, soon united with it and helped to create
and to develop this form of musical art.

In order to obtain a survey of the whole field of choral music as it
has grown from these two principal sources, let us enumerate it under
three divisions:

1. As an expression of popular emotions and
thoughts.

    a.  Folk-songs and refrains.
    b.  Dance songs.
    c.  Marching and war songs.
    d.  Work songs.
    e.  National songs.


2. For religious purposes.

    a.  Masses, motets, chorales, and other church-music.
    b.  Cantatas and oratorios.

3. Miscellaneous forms for choral art.

    a.  Part-songs, glees, madrigals, etc.
    b.  Secular cantatas.
    c.  As adjuncts to symphonic music.
    d.  As component parts of the opera.


This shows the wide scope of choral singing and its possibilities for
coming into close relationship to every phase of human life.

Whenever men come together for a common purpose involving the
expression of deep feelings or of their ideals, ordinary speech seems
inadequate and recourse to united musical expression, that is, choral
singing, seems most appropriate. Hence, the choral folk-songs and
dance-songs found in Russia, Scandinavia, Germany, and many other
nations and races; the marching and war-songs which cause the heart to
beat faster and to enliven the spirits, which would otherwise droop
from physical fatigue and hardships. Even where no spiritual element
seems in evidence on the surface, as in the work in the fields, in the
hauling of barges against the current of a great river, such as the
Volga in Russia, in the cigar factories in Florida and in Cuba, or
in heaving on a rope aboard ship, the mere working together of many
in a common task causes them to lighten their labor by utterance of
united song. There is little doubt that labor is better done with
the accompaniment of singing by happy and contented workers. No
discontented workman is inclined to sing. And when a great assemblage
of people unites in the national hymn of its country, it must be a
callous soul and cold heart that does not try to join with ardor and
enthusiasm.

All these manifestations of musical expression by popular singing
may be executed by comparatively untrained individuals. Even some
quite unusual and interesting harmonic progressions, the result of
generations of experiment and selection, as for instance in Finland,
Scandinavia, and among our Southern negroes, are not the result of
individual training, but part of the general racial instinct for
musical expression. The other classes of choral singing which we
have enumerated above require considerable training of individuals
in order to produce satisfactory results. In other words, whereas
the folk-songs, dance, marching, and national songs were either the
spontaneous expression of the people themselves or composed in the
style of the people’s or folk-song whose chief centre of interest
is the tune or melody while its harmonization is of secondary
importance, the choral art-songs, to which belong part-songs, glees,
madrigals, motets, cantatas, and all larger forms of choral music,
employ a much more elaborate style of composition. The different
voice-parts--soprano, alto, tenor, and bass--and their subdivisions
often progress in rhythmic independence of each other. The voice-parts
may enter the song at different times, in different sequence, in
different metrical and rhythmical figures; they may sing different
words simultaneously and therefore give different expression; sometimes
one voice-part requires dynamic prominence, sometimes another, while
the other voices subordinate themselves. All this requires that the
individual singer must have a musical voice and true ear and a good
sense of rhythm; that he should understand the rudimentary science of
music and of notation; and that his eye should be able to recognize
the symbols which indicate the pitch and time value of sounds and
translate them instantly into the sounds themselves. Also, it requires
that the individuals submit to the strictest discipline in obeying
the directions of the leader. Only complete, intelligent, and instant
obedience to the director on the part of every member of the chorus
will produce good results. In other words, only team-work of the
highest type secures mastery.

Efficiency in the performance of choral works of art, therefore,
demands the following conditions: First, a leader who is a thorough,
trained musician; cultured and well-educated; of good character and
with high ideals and noble aims; of good personality, courteous but
strict in discipline; critical but not discouraging; energetic and
enthusiastic, but always within the limits of dignity. Second, a
chorus composed of singers who sing because they love to sing (paid or
unpaid), who are gladly willing to obey the leader’s direction, and
who will concentrate themselves upon their work throughout the period
of rehearsal or performance. Their degree of vocal excellence, musical
qualities, individual musical knowledge and training will determine the
magnitude of the task upon which the leader may direct their efforts
and also the degree of excellence which their performance can attain.

In the United States there exist innumerable organizations devoted
to the study of choral music in its various forms, and it may be of
interest to enumerate some of the principal kinds.


1. The church congregation which sings hymns either in unison
   or in four-part harmony in a more or less happy-go-lucky
   fashion.

2. The church choir composed of male and female voices or
   of boys’ and men’s voices.

3. The societies devoted to the study of oratorios and cantatas.

4. The societies devoted to the study of unaccompanied choral
   singing (_a cappella_, as it is called), such as madrigals,
   glees, motets, etc.

5. Male choruses, such as the German singing societies and the
   glee clubs.

6. Choruses of women’s voices.

7. Opera choruses.

8. Choruses of school-children.


The great majority of these organizations consists of amateurs,
that is, of people who love music and who find in choral singing an
opportunity to gratify their desire to take an active part in its
performance.

Even those whose voices are of mediocre quality and have had little or
no training can learn to do excellent work in large choruses in which
the individual voice is merged in the mass. An example of this may be
found in the People’s Singing Classes and in the People’s Choral Union
of New York. Applicants to the former are admitted without vocal or
musical examination. They are taught to sing from notes, to follow the
bâton of the leader, to phrase and enunciate correctly, and to produce
a musical quality of tone. After two seasons they are promoted into the
Choral Union and are capable of singing the choruses of the oratorios
by Handel, Mendelssohn, and the modern masters. Their work has been
highly praised by the principal music critics and they have given and
are still giving pleasure to thousands of people at their concerts.

Societies like the Oratorio Society of New York, the Handel and Haydn
of Boston, the Apollo Club of Chicago, and numerous similar ones in
nearly every city are also composed of amateurs, but admission is
obtained only after proof of good vocal material and ability to sing at
sight has been given. This enables such organizations to perform with a
high degree of artistic finish and to produce a number of large works
every season.

The male societies, such as glee clubs and _Deutsche Gesangvereine_,
cultivate a lighter class of music, but they sometimes reach a high
degree of vocal excellence and finish in diction and phrasing. They
afford a welcome relief from work, business cares, and mental strain to
many men who like to sing and who enjoy the weekly rehearsals and the
social intercourse with congenial men which usually follows the drill.

The women’s choruses are not as numerous nor as popular as the
men’s, but seem to be growing more so every year. It is difficult to
understand why male choral singing should have developed more quickly
and more widely, as women are usually more interested in music than the
average man. Perhaps there is a psychological reason for it!

Choruses of children’s voices are among the most delightful
manifestations in the realm of music when they are well trained. Our
public schools throughout the country have the best possible machinery
for their development, and wherever this is guided by a good musician
and competent organizer the results are very beautiful. It is a great
pity, therefore, that the start in the direction of choral singing
given in the schools to hundreds of thousands of children every year
should not be systematically followed up by providing municipal evening
singing classes, either in the school buildings or in other suitable
halls provided by the city. Such classes would tend enormously to
uplift the young people who are just beginning life by giving them
opportunity to meet their friends under clean and pleasant conditions,
to enjoy the study of beautiful music and thereby to put into their
lives something which will help to lift them above the purely material
thoughts and commonplace existence which are so often the lot of the
wage-earner.

There remains only the consideration of the various kinds of
professional choruses. Of these, the church choir is the most
frequently met with. As a rule, it is little better than the average
amateur chorus, the members receiving a nominal fee, chiefly in order
to insure their regular attendance at rehearsals and services. But
there are some notable exceptions in the case of wealthy congregations
who spend whatever may be necessary to secure a highly gifted
and thoroughly competent choir-master, good voices, and frequent
rehearsals. In some cases there have been established richly endowed
choir schools in which boys gifted with good voices receive not only
musical training, but an excellent general education sufficient to
prepare them for college.

The grand opera choruses have, until recently, been largely recruited
from Italy and Germany, but now they include many young American men
and women whose fresh voices and intelligent application are looked
upon as welcome additions both by the conductors and the public. As
interest in opera grows and as operatic institutions are established in
a larger number of cities, this career will attract many young people
whose voices are not of such quality as to promise success as soloists,
but who are musical and prefer work along artistic lines to the more
mechanical business or trade occupations.

Finally, mention must be made of a kind of choral singing which, at its
best, is to vocal music what chamber music is to instrumental, namely,
_a cappella_ singing.

Dating from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, when the old
Italian and Flemish masters of church music laid the foundations of
their wonderful contrapuntal style which culminated in the work of
Palestrina, this form of unaccompanied choral singing has flourished
to the present day, producing exquisite blossoms in every succeeding
age and in nearly every country which has cultivated a love of music.
Much of this class of music requires highly skilled singers, thorough
musical training and expert leadership, and it is therefore desirable
to secure professional singers when this is possible. The Musical
Art Society of New York and other societies with similar aims devote
themselves to this type of choral singing. Their choirs usually consist
of professional singers and their programs embrace works by Palestrina,
Orlando di Lasso, and their contemporaries and successors--Bach,
Gibbons, Morley, Wilbye, and other English madrigalists; the masters
of the German romantic school; Russian, Scandinavian, and Celtic
part-songs; Cornelius, Brahms, and the modern composers of all nations.

From the foregoing recital of the wide scope of this important branch
of musical art and its general practice by all classes of people, it
would appear that choral singing is that form of music which is best
adapted to popular use and that it is one of the easiest and best means
to promote the love and culture of good music in the community.

Through the musical experience gained in the study of choral works
and because of the pleasure it gives to the participants, interest is
aroused in other forms of musical art. Those who are engaged in trying
to awaken the American people to the appreciation of music by means
of recitals by singers, pianists, and violinists; by chamber music,
symphony concerts, and opera, will find more ready response from people
who have entered the field of music apprehension through choral singing
than through any other medium except the thorough training of a good
music school, and this contingent is, as yet, comparatively small. It
is to be hoped that, as the value of choral singing as a community
asset becomes more generally recognized, public education boards and
civic societies will give the fullest encouragement to its practice by
the people at large. It is not too much to say that twenty per cent.
of the adults of every city could become qualified to take part in
choral singing, and this opens up marvellous possibilities.

Such civic choruses could assist in the celebration of the national
holidays, of festivities in memory of great events, in exercises
designed to honor a famous man; in short, they would be a true people’s
voice expressing a people’s emotions, aspirations, and ideals. What
more fitting then than that the great republic of America should foster
the art and cultivate the practice of choral singing in order the more
effectively to proclaim to all the world its message of well ordered
liberty, of enlightenment and progress, and of peace to men of good
will?

                                            FRANK DAMROSCH

New York, May, 1915.




                        CONTENTS OF VOLUME SIX


                                                                    PAGE

     PREFATORY NOTE                                                 vii

     INTRODUCTION BY DR. FRANK DAMROSCH                              ix


                 PART I. CHORAL MUSIC OF THE MIDDLE AGES

     CHAPTER

        I. MUSIC OF THE EARLY AND MEDIÆVAL CHURCH AND EARLY
           SECULAR MUSIC                                              1

           The music of the earliest Christian church as evolved
           from contemporary practices and systems; the alliance of
           the Roman liturgy with music; the _Schola Cantorum_--St.
           Ambrose and liturgical music; his hymns; Gregory the
           Great and his reforms; the Gregorian antiphonary;
           sequences and tropes--Progress in musical methods in
           the northern countries; Hucbald and _organum_; Guido of
           Arezzo; Franco of Cologne and measured music; growth of
           part-singing--Early secular music; the Troubadours and
           Trouvères; Adam de la Hâle; the Minnesingers and the
           Mastersingers; mediæval secular forms; The early
           madrigal and its precursors, the _chanson_ and
           _frottola_; ‘Sumer is icumen in’; relation of folk-music
           to art-music.

       II. THE POLYPHONIC PERIOD                                     36

           The Gallo-Belgic School; the Netherlanders; the mass
           and its liturgical significance; the use of secular
           subjects--Conditions that fostered continuity of
           development: the ‘Mass of Tournay’; Dufay and Okeghem;
           Hobrecht’s _Parce Domine_; Josquin des Près’ masses
           and motets; his expressive style--The motet as an
           extra-liturgical form; its development; its later
           characteristic style; distinction between sacred and
           secular music--Orlando di Lasso’s ‘Penitential Psalms’;
           his tendency toward a simpler style; his _Gustate et
           Videte_ and other compositions--Palestrina’s reforms,
           methods, and style; his masses, _Papæ Marcelli_,
           _Brevis_, and _Assumpta est Maria_; his motets and other
           compositions: Vittoria and others--Madrigal writers of
           the sixteenth century: Festa, Arcadelt, Willaert, Byrd,
           Morley, etc.

      III. THE FIRST CENTURY OF PROTESTANT CHURCH MUSIC              76

           Martin Luther; the chorale as the nucleus of German
           Protestant church music--Early Reformation composers:
           Walther, Eccard, Prætorius; influence of church choir
           schools in Germany during the Reformation
           period--English Protestant music, music of the Anglican
           liturgy: the anthem, its early history and style--The
           spread of congregational song; psalms and hymns.


               PART II. THE CANTATA AND OTHER SHORT FORMS

       IV. THE EARLY ITALIAN SECULAR CANTATA, THE GERMAN CLASSICAL
           CANTATA, THE ENGLISH ANTHEM, AND OTHER SHORT
           CHORAL FORMS                                              99

           The entrance of dramatic tendencies into music--Carissimi
           and the early cantata; Rossi, Cesti, and Legrenzi--A.
           Scarlatti, the culminating point in cantata-writing in
           Italy; later developments of the Italian cantata--The
           German church cantata and its relation to the Lutheran
           service; cantata-texts of Neumeister and others--Bach
           in the service of the church; his church cantatas--G.
           F. Handel; Joseph Haydn; W. A. Mozart--English church
           music in the eighteenth century; the anthem: Croft,
           Greene, Boyce, and others--Later history of this motet in
           England, Italy, and Germany; decadence of the madrigal;
           the glee, the part-song, the masque and the ode.

        V. THE CANTATA IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY                    142

           Conflict of tradition and progress--Ludwig van Beethoven:
           ‘Ruins of Athens,’ ‘Glorious moment’; Andreas Romberg--C.
           M. von Weber; Franz Schubert; Ludwig Spohr--Mendelssohn:
           ‘First Walpurgis Night,’ etc.; 95th Psalm; _Lauda Sion_,
           etc.--Hector Berlioz: ‘Damnation of Faust’--Robert
           Schumann: ‘Paradise and the Peri’; ‘Pilgrimage of the
           Rose’; Miscellany--Ferdinand Hiller; Niels W. Gade:
           ‘Crusaders,’ ‘Erl-King’s Daughter,’ ‘Christmas Eve,’
           ‘Comala,’ etc.--Félicien David: ‘The Desert’; Minor
           cantata writers in Germany and England: Benedict, Costa,
           Macfarren, Smart, Bennett--Anglican ritual-music and the
           German evangelical motet in the nineteenth century; the
           part-song.

       VI. THE MODERN CANTATA                                       189

           Wagner: ‘The Love Feast of the Apostles’; Liszt: ‘The
           Bells of Strassburg,’ ‘Prometheus’--Brahms: ‘Song of
           Triumph,’ ‘Song of Destiny’--Max Bruch: ‘Frithjof,’
           ‘Fair Ellen,’ ‘The Cross of Fire,’ ‘The Lay of the
           Bell,’ etc.--Rheinberger; Dvořák; Hofmann; Goetz--Grieg;
           Gounod; Sullivan: ‘The Golden Legend’; Barnby’s Gaul;
           Stainer; Cowen--Parry; Mackenzie; Stanford--Elgar:
           ‘King Olaf’; ‘Caractacus’; ‘The Black Knight’--
           Coleridge-Taylor: ‘Hiawatha’ cycle--Dudley Buck:
           ‘The Golden  Legend’; ‘The Light of Asia’; Horatio
           Parker and other cantata writers in the United States.


                 PART III. THE ORATORIO AND THE MASS

      VII. Early and Classical Oratorios                            223

           Origin of oratorio in the sacred drama of
           Italy--Cavalieri: ‘The Representation of Soul and
           Body’--Carissimi: ‘Jephthah’--Scarlatti; Stradella;
           other early oratorio writers--Development of oratorio
           in Germany; Passion-music and its development; Schütz:
           ‘The Seven Last Words of Christ’; ‘The Passion
           Oratorio’; ‘The Resurrection’--J. S. Bach: ‘Christmas
           Oratorio’; ‘Passion according to St. Matthew’; Graun:
           ‘The Death of Jesus’; other writers of Passion-music--
           Handel and the oratorio; ‘The Messiah’--‘Israel in
           Egypt’; ‘Judas Maccabæus’; ‘Samson,’ etc.--Haydn: ‘The
           Creation’; ‘The Seasons.‘

     VIII. THE ORATORIO FROM BEETHOVEN TO BRAHMS                    264

           Beethoven: ‘The Mount of Olives’; Spohr: ‘The Last
           Judgment’ and ‘Calvary’--Mendelssohn: ‘St. Paul’--‘Elijah’
           and ‘Hymn of Praise’--Liszt: ‘St. Elizabeth’ and
           ‘Christus’--Oratorio in England; Sterndale Bennett:
           ‘The Woman of Samaria’; Costa’s ‘Eli’--Oratorio in
           France; Lesueur; Berlioz’s _L’enfance du Christ_--Gounod:
           ‘The Redemption’; _Mors et Vita_.

       IX. THE MODERN ORATORIO                                      292

           Brahms: ‘German Requiem’; Dvořák: ‘St. Ludmila’--César
           Franck: ‘The Beatitudes’;--Tinel: ‘Franciscus’; Benoît:
           ‘Lucifer’--Saint-Saëns: ‘Christmas Oratorio’; ‘The
           Deluge’; Massenet: _Ève_; _Marie Madeleine_; Dubois:
           ‘Paradise Lost’--Oratorio in England; Mackenzie: ‘The
           Rose of Sharon’; ‘Bethlehem’; Parry: ‘Judith’; ‘Job’;
           ‘King Saul’--Stanford: ‘The Three Holy Children’; ‘Eden’;
           Sullivan: ‘The Prodigal Son’; ‘The Light of the World’;
           Cowen--Oratorio in America; Paine: ‘St. Peter’; Horatio
           Parker: _Hora Novissima_; ‘The Legend of St. Christopher.’

        X. THE MODERN MASS                                          318

           The adaptation of liturgical forms to extra-liturgical
           purposes; Mass; Requiem Mass--Stabat Mater; Magnificat;
           Te Deum--Musical masses and the Roman service--Bach:
           ‘B minor Mass’--Bach‘s ‘Magnificat in D’; Pergolesi‘s
           _Stabat Mater_; Handel‘s Te Deums; Graun‘s ‘Prague _Te
           Deum_’; Haydn’s church music--Mozart: the _Requiem_ and
           other masses--Cherubini: _Requiem_ and other masses;
           Schubert’s masses--Beethoven: _Missa Solemnis_; Weber’s
           masses--Berlioz: _Requiem_; _Te Deum_; Rossini’s _Stabat
           Mater_; Liszt: ‘Graner Mass’ and ‘Hungarian Coronation
           Mass’--Gounod: ‘St. Cecilia Mass’ and other masses;
           Dvořák: _Requiem_ and _Stabat Mater_; Verdi: ‘The Manzoni
           _Requiem_’--The masses of Rheinberger, Henschel and
           others.


                        PART IV. MODERN CHORAL MUSIC

       XI. CONTEMPORANEOUS CHORAL MUSIC IN GERMANY                  347

           Contemporaneous Choral Music in Germany--Richard Strauss:
           _Wanderers Sturmlied_; _Taillefer_; Motets--Taubmann:
           _Eine Deutsche Messe_; _Sängerweihe_; Georg Schumann:
           _Ruth_; _Totenklage_ and other works--Max Reger’s
           choral compositions; Schönberg: _Gurrelieder_;
           ‘Transfigured Night’; _Pierrot lunaire_--Other choral
           writers of the present; Felix Draeseke’s _Christus_;
           Wolfrum’s _Weihnachtsmysterium_; Albert Fuchs; Wilhelm
           Platz; August Bungert’s _Warum? Woher? Wohin?_ Felix
           Woyrsch: _Totentanz_ and other works; Wilhelm Berger’s
           _Totentanz_; Karl Ad. Lorenz: _Das Licht_; other
           contributors to modern German choral literature.

      XII. CONTEMPORANEOUS CHORAL MUSIC IN ENGLAND AND AMERICA      359

           Elgar: ‘The Light of Life’; ‘The Dream of Gerontius’;
           ‘The Apostles’; ‘The Kingdom’; ‘The Music
           Makers’;--Parry: ‘War and Peace’; ‘The Vision of
           Life’; ‘The Pied Piper of Hamelin’; Mackenzie; Cowen;
           Coleridge-Taylor--Bantock: ‘The Fire Worshippers’; ‘Omar
           Khayyam’ and other choral works--Holbrooke: ‘The Bells,’
           ‘Byron’ and other works; Grainger and others; Walford
           Davies: ‘Everyman’; ‘The Temple’ and other works; minor
           English choral writers--Horatio Parker: ‘Morven and
           the Grail’ and smaller works; Chadwick: ‘Judith’ and
           ‘Noël’--Henry Hadley: ‘Merlin and Vivian’ and short
           works; F. S. Converse: ‘Job’; other American choral
           writers.

     XIII. CONTEMPORARY CHORAL MUSIC IN FRANCE, ITALY, RUSSIA AND
           ELSEWHERE                                                386

           Debussy: _L’enfant prodigue_, _La demoiselle élue_
           and _Le martyre de Saint-Sébastien_; Reynaldo Hahn:
           _La pastorale de Noël_; Gabriel Pierné: _La croisade
           des enfants_; _Les enfants de Bethlehem_; _Les
           fioretti de Saint-François d’Assisi_--Florent Schmitt:
           Psalm XLVII; Vincent d’Indy: _Chant de la cloche_,
           etc.--Renaissance of oratorio in Italy; Perosi and
           his oratorios; Bossi: _Canticum canticorum_; _Il
           Paradiso perduto_; Wolf-Ferrari: _La Vita Nuova_ and
           other works--Scandinavia; choral music in Russia;
           Moussorgsky; Rimsky-Korsakoff; Glazounoff; Glière;
           Arensky and others; choral composition in Poland,
           Bohemia, Hungary, Spain.


                      PART V. THE ORGAN AND ITS MUSIC

     XIV. THE ORGAN FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES TO THE PRESENT          397

           The ancestor of the modern organ; pneumatic and
           hydraulic organs of classical antiquity--The organ
           in early mediæval times--The tenth and eleventh
           centuries: cloister and minster organs; the twelfth and
           thirteenth centuries: introduction of the ‘portative’
           organ and balanced keys; the fourteenth century:
           chromatic keyboard; pedals; organ blowing--Fifteenth
           and sixteenth centuries; cathedral and church organs;
           the _Rückpositiv_; the Spanish _partida_; builders--The
           seventeenth century: mechanical development; tuning;
           union of manuals; the eighteenth century; the ‘Swell’;
           English builders; the Silbermanns--_Rococo_ adornment
           of cases; the nineteenth century and the birth of the
           modern instrument--Pneumatic action; electric action;
           the Universal Air Chest; duplex stop control; tonal
           improvements--the chamber organ; the concert organ.

       XV. EARLY ORGAN MUSIC                                        415

           The old Italian masters: Landino to Frescobaldi--Early
           German masters; the forerunners of Bach; Hassler,
           Pachelbel, Buxtehude--J. S. Bach: the toccatas, the
           preludes and fugues, the sonatas and other works--The
           early French composers: Couperin and Rameau; Spain and
           Portugal; the Netherlands--The early English masters;
           Tye, Tallis, Byrd, Bull, Gibbons, etc.--Purcell;
           Handel.

      XVI. ORGAN MUSIC AFTER BACH AND HANDEL                        456

           The eclipse of organ music after Bach; Bach’s pupils
           and other organ masters of the classic period--Organ
           composers of the romantic period: Mendelssohn, Liszt,
           Rheinberger and others--Great French organists of the
           nineteenth century--English organists since Handel.

     XVII. MODERN ORGAN MUSIC                                       479

           Supremacy of modern French organ music; Saint-Saëns;
           Guilmant: sonatas and smaller works--Widor: organ
           symphonies; Dubois; Gigout and other French
           organ-writers--German organ composers; Piutti;
           Klose; Reger; chorale-fantasias; Karg-Elert and
           others--Organ music in Italy; Capocci; Bossi; Busoni
           and others--English organ composers since 1850--Organ
           music in the United States; early history; Dudley
           Buck; Frederick Archer and Clarence Eddy; contemporary
           American organ composers.

           LITERATURE                                               503

           INDEX                                                    507


                        CHORAL AND CHURCH MUSIC




                               CHAPTER I

    MUSIC OF THE EARLY AND MEDIÆVAL CHURCH AND EARLY SECULAR MUSIC


     The music of the earliest Christian church as evolved
     from contemporary practices and systems; the alliance of
     the Roman liturgy with music; the _Schola Cantorum_--St.
     Ambrose and liturgical music; his hymns; Gregory the Great
     and his reforms; the Gregorian antiphonary; sequences
     and tropes--Progress in musical methods in the northern
     countries; Hucbald and _organum_; Guido of Arezzo; Franco of
     Cologne and measured music; growth of part-singing--Early
     secular music; the Troubadours and Trouvères; Adam de la
     Hâle; the Minnesingers and the Mastersingers; mediæval
     secular forms; The early madrigal and its precursors, the
     _chanson_ and _frottola_; ‘Sumer is icumen in’; relation of
     folk-music to art-music.


                                   I

Accustomed as we are in the present age to rapid progress and swift
development, it seems difficult to understand why it should have
required so many centuries to develop among human beings a feeling
for the necessity of more than a single melody or voice-part in music
expression. The earliest music of which we have any knowledge is
monophonic, a single melody sung by a single voice, or by a number
of voices in unison or in octaves. This characteristic prevails not
only in the music of primitive races, ancient or modern, but also in
the music of those ancient nations that attained a high degree of
civilization--Greeks, Romans, Egyptians, Assyrians, Hebrews. The Greeks
and Egyptians understood thoroughly the theory of intervals and they
possessed an adequate comprehension of intervals in the melodic sense,
where tone follows tone. But it seems never to have occurred to them to
apply this knowledge of intervals to sounds of different pitch heard
simultaneously, certainly never seriously enough to lead them to make
experiments in the use of these intervals for the purpose of evolving
two or more independent melodies or voice-parts sounding at the same
time. Even the crude device of having two melodies move in parallel
fifths or fourths, as in the _organum_ of Hucbald, was not employed
until the tenth century of the Christian era. And, the principle of
discant or added parts to a given melody having been once established,
it required nearly six centuries more of constant experimentation
with vocal part-writing before there emerged any clear or conscious
feeling for what we call harmony or a progression of chord-units. Since
the sixteenth century, however, musical progress has unfolded with
constantly accelerated pace.

Until about the beginning of the seventeenth century, when secularity
entered the domain of music and received such important consideration
in the development of dramatic and instrumental music, practically the
whole creative energy of art-music had been expended in the interest
of religion. From the earliest times the most important music of
the Greeks, Egyptians, Assyrians, and Hebrews was associated with
their respective religious rites and ceremonies. Roman civilization
contributed nothing of importance to the musical knowledge or practices
of its time, for militant Rome was far more interested in assimilating
from the culture of conquered countries than in originating and
developing practices of her own. Even the dawn of the Christian era,
with the tremendous dynamics of its new moral and ethical ideals and
its prophecy of intellectual freedom, did not usher in any essential
departure from the old musical usages. The early Christians merely
selected from current musical systems and contemporaneous melodies
those elements that were best suited to the services of the new
religion and to the religious home life of its adherents. Until the
period of open persecution set in, the converts to the new religion
did not in general follow a social or economic life that differed in
any essential respects from that of their neighbors who still paid
homage to the old forms and trod the old paths of religious worship.
The believers in the new and the old forms of religion mingled freely
in the daily rounds of their various duties and pleasures. Just as the
early Christian art did not differ in principle from the best Pagan
models, so the music of the early Christian congregations was absorbed
into their services from the musical practices of the communities from
which the converts came. Those in the East naturally turned for their
musical material to the noble melodies of the Hebrew synagogue and to
the more chaste Greek melodies whose association was farther removed
from sensual Pagan rites. Those in the West borrowed freely from
current Græco-Roman music, employing, of course, only those melodies
that were purest and most refined in character and association.

From this point of contact with the old civilization, the music of
the early Christian worship gradually developed along the line of its
own inherent and individual needs and kept pace with the internal
unfoldment of the liturgic idea that at an early date imbedded itself
firmly in all branches of the church services. The line of continuity
in passing from the old to the new, however, was unbroken. Public
ceremonials and priestly sacrifices have always produced conditions
exceedingly favorable to the development of rituals and liturgies.
This was conspicuously true of the Hebrew religion, as well as the
Pagan religions which were practised in the opening centuries of the
Christian era. It is not altogether surprising, then, that many Pagan
ideas, forms, and ceremonials were incorporated into the ritual and
liturgy of the early church, especially after the third century, when
Christianity was received into the favor of the State.

While the organization of the early Christian church was still
simple and its government more or less democratic in character,
the congregation took an active part in the musical portion of the
service. But the gradual development of elaborate liturgies and
ceremonies, the transformation of the clergy from representatives of
the people to mediatorial functionaries, and the general hierarchical
tendencies of the times--all contributed in bringing about a condition
distinctly unfavorable to free congregational singing. Indeed, this was
specifically forbidden in all liturgical services by the Council of
Laodicea (343-381), and while the transfer of the office of song from
the people to the clergy was not immediately effective, congregational
singing in the apostolic sense passed out of existence in the fourth
century. It is true that in private worship and in non-liturgical
services the singing of hymns and psalms by the general body of
worshippers was permitted, but the rapid growth of sacerdotalism
irresistibly led to the corresponding withdrawal of initiative from the
individual worshippers, until the clergy in all liturgical services
finally assumed all the offices of public worship, inclusive of song,
which was regarded as an integral part of the office of prayer.

The establishment of the priestly liturgic chant marks the real
beginning of the history of music in the Christian church, for music
after that event became a matter of special qualifications and
preparation on the part of the performers, and of rigid adherence to
prescribed formulas and regulations in all details of performance. It
followed with utmost logic from the doctrine of the universality and
immutability of the church that its liturgy, rites, and ceremonies
should not only remain unchanged from age to age, but should be uniform
in all countries and localities where her authority was recognized.

In the study of the Roman Catholic liturgy its alliance with music
must be kept constantly in mind, for in inception and in development it
was and always has been a musical liturgy. In working out the problems
of securing the desired uniformity in respect to musical settings for
different localities and of handing down to succeeding generations
the musical forms that had gained the sanction of church authority,
the church fathers were confronted with difficulties the magnitude
of which it is not easy for us to comprehend. It was not until the
eleventh century that a system of staff notation was devised whereby
the exact pitch of notes could be accurately represented, and a full
century elapsed after this vital invention before an adequate system of
measured music was evolved whereby the exact relative duration of notes
could be represented. A detailed account of the slow and laborious
development of the elementary material out of which the fair edifice of
modern music was finally to be reared will be found in Vol. I of this
series. It will suffice here to say that the authorized versions of the
various chants, as the liturgy was gradually taking definite and final
shape during the fourth, fifth, and sixth centuries, had to be taught
and preserved by ‘word of mouth,’ this process being somewhat aided,
through visual association, by means of a kind of musical shorthand
called ‘neumes,’ consisting of dots, short lines and combinations
of lines written over the syllables to be sung, which indicated the
general direction of the melody but not the exact intervals between
its tones as it fluctuated up and down in pitch. Even this crude
system of representing pitch relations by visual symbols was of great
assistance to the singers, for in principle it sought to serve the same
purpose that our modern notation accomplishes in suggesting to the
eve the outline of the melody. Indefinite as it was in not indicating
exact intervallic relations, it greatly aided in recalling to mind the
melodies already memorized, assistance which was greatly appreciated
by the singers, for as many as a thousand different melodies were used
during the church year, many of them for a single occasion only.

To eliminate conflicting traditions and to bring about uniformity in
all branches of the service, singing schools were established by order
and under the direction of ecclesiastical authorities (the first one in
314 at Rome by Pope Sylvester), in which the clerical singers received
thorough instruction and training not only in the exact forms of all
the chants to be used, but also in all matters of intonation, qualities
of tone suited to different chants, enunciation, etc. These schools
(_scholæ cantorum_) brought about as much uniformity and permanency
as were possible in the absence of more exact notational means. But
even with these great handicaps, a wealth of musical material was
accumulated even before the twelfth century, whose plenitude and
affluent beauty it would seem have never been rightly appreciated
or exploited by the Catholic Church itself. The difficulties in
deciphering the vague neumes in the mediæval manuscripts have
undoubtedly operated to keep these treasures hidden away in their
original depositories; yet the results of the labors of occasional
enthusiasts in translating some of them into modern notation would
indicate that here are unexplored channels for the permanent enrichment
of the literature of Catholic music. In his _motu propria_ of November
22, 1903, Pope Pius X turned the attention of the Catholic world back
to the glories of the mediæval Gregorian music and, indirectly, to the
old manuscripts, treasure-stores of long forgotten melodies of the
old church singers that are still hidden away in the monasteries and
abbeys of Europe and northern Africa, as well as in the more accessible
museums and libraries of Europe.

The earliest known manuscripts date from the eighth, possibly the
sixth, century. But aside from the traditional music of the liturgy,
handed down from generation to generation by word of mouth and
preserved intact, in Rome at least, by the severe discipline of the
singing schools, we possess very few examples of music whose origin can
with certainty be placed before the eleventh century, when our present
staff notation came into being. Yet even with so little actual music
of the period at hand we know with great definiteness the character of
ecclesiastical music from contemporary writings, edicts, and decrees.


                                   II

When early Christian music finally freed itself from the influence
of Pagan models in the interest of its own internal necessities, it
opened the way for the first time in history for the development of a
purely vocal art, dispensing with the assistance of the instruments
that formed such an essential part of the musical practices allied with
Pagan religious rites and ceremonies. For the first fifteen centuries
of the Christian era almost the only art-music was that which was
cultivated by and for the church, and since the church during this
period persistently frowned upon the use of instruments, the history of
the music of the period is the history of choral music.

But while in Italy the use of instruments was rigidly forbidden and
any deviation from prescribed practices was a punishable offense,
greater difficulty was experienced in enforcing this church law in
those countries of Europe, now known as France, Germany, and England,
which had more recently been won to the standard of Christianity by
the militant missionaries of Rome, but which still retained a rugged
independence that clung tenaciously to many local customs. In some of
these localities instruments were freely used and in the monastery
of St. Gall in Switzerland festival occasions were graced by a band
of harps, flutes, cymbals, a seven-stringed psaltery, and an organ.
Notwithstanding a few noteworthy exceptions, the music of the Roman
Church can be characterized as pure vocal music until near the end of
the sixteenth century at least. And when instruments were occasionally
used--the organ more and more toward the end of the sixteenth
century--it was for the purpose of doubling the voice-parts in order to
gain greater sonority.

After the office of song was restricted to specially trained
clericals, thus bringing music within the domain of culture and
laying the foundation for its development as an art, the first name
of importance among those who strove to bring order and increased
effectiveness into the chaotic conditions of liturgical music was St.
Ambrose, Bishop of Milan (340?-397). Much that was attributed to him
until a few decades ago has been proved to be apocryphal and legendary.
We may with much certainty, however, affirm that his enthusiastic
interest in the music of the liturgy resulted (1) in carefully sifting
the material that had been gradually accumulating, and (2) in bringing
into the ritual of the Western church from the Eastern three elements
of great value to its further development--antiphonal singing of psalms
by two alternating choirs, responsorial singing, and Greek hymnody. His
great interest in the last-named field led him not only to translate
many of the finest Greek hymns into Latin, but inspired him to write
new Latin hymns to be sung, probably to simple melodies, after the
Greek fashion. Among the hymns (about ten in number) from his own pen
may be named _Veni Redemptor Gentium_ and _Eterna Christi Munera_
(‘Hymnal Noted,’ Nos. 12 and 36).

St. Ambrose’s innovations soon found favor elsewhere. Antiphonal
psalmody was introduced into the service at Rome by Pope Celestine
(pope from 422 to 432), and in a short time was quite generally adopted
throughout the domains of the church. St. Augustine (354-430), who
was a friend of St. Ambrose and a collaborator with him, and who is
said to have made a collection of Ambrosian melodies for the use of
the church, bears touching testimony to their emotional effect: ‘How
I wept at thy hymns and canticles, pierced to the quick by the voices
of thy melodious church! Those voices flowed into my ears, and the
truth distilled into my heart, and thence there streamed forth a
devout emotion, and my tears ran down, and happy was I therein.’ (St.
Augustine, ‘Confessions,’ Book 9, chap. 6.)

The so-called Ambrosian collection vied in importance with the
Gregorian for several centuries and many of its finest features
were undoubtedly incorporated into the later and more comprehensive
collection. So important a place does St. Ambrose fill in the history
of ecclesiastical music that the term Ambrosian is still applied to
usages, both liturgical and musical, of the Church of Milan, which
distinguish its service in certain respects from the Roman service, and
which are supposed to have been originated by the great Milanese bishop.

After St. Ambrose the next prelate to impress himself profoundly on
the course of development of church-music was Pope Gregory the Great
(pope from 590 to 604). While recent research[1] has proved beyond
doubt that a multitude of reforms and innovations attributed to him
by mediæval legends and repeated by later history belong in reality
to a much later period, it is well established that he manifested an
enthusiastic and well-directed interest in the music of the service,
that he introduced many corrective measures to curb the growing
danger of secularizing church-music through the use of unauthorized
embellishments and licenses in singing the chants, and that he brought
about a thorough and far-reaching reorganization of the singing
schools. When he became pope in 590, the liturgy was practically
completed as far as its actual material was concerned. Since the
earliest practices of the church had encouraged a musical liturgy,
he found in actual use a vast number of chants and musical settings
for various parts of the services. These musical settings differed
in different localities. In conformity with his definitely conceived
policy of establishing in reality one universal church for all peoples
and races, with centralized power and highly-organized form of
government, he set about to accomplish a definite systematization and
an authoritative organization of all liturgic functions, together with
the necessarily similar regulation of the music associated with the
liturgy. This reform was in the nature of a codification of existing
material, and while he did not finish the great work, he brought it
within the bounds of uniformity as regards both liturgy and musical
settings, and gave to these results of his labors all the permanency
that the solemn law of the church could command. The liturgical portion
was called _Sacramentarium Gregorianum_ and the musical portion
_Antiphonarium Gregorianum_, and from the seventh century these two
books are always met with side by side.

The interesting and fanciful stories of Pope Gregory’s labors as
composer of chants and as teacher in the _Schola Cantorum_ must be
discarded as wholly unproven legends, and to the same category belongs
the tradition that after compiling the Antiphonary he caused a copy
of it to be chained to the altar of St. Peter’s, as containing the
only music authorized by the church. One of the direct results of his
reorganization of the singing school, however, was the establishment
on a permanent basis of the Sistine Chapel,[2] or papal choir, at
Rome. This organization, the oldest choral body in the world, was
for centuries the court of final resort in all matters pertaining to
the traditions of Gregorian chant and it maintained a practically
continuous existence from that far-off age until the temporal power of
the pope came to an end in 1870, when it was practically disbanded.
Since that date, however, its members have from time to time been
called together to sing in the Sistine Chapel on occasions of special
significance.

The Gregorian collection or antiphonary, which was the musical law
of the Roman Church until the Renaissance period, was probably not
settled in final form until the time of Gregory II (pope 715-731) or
Gregory III (pope 731-741). However much Gregory the Great may have
accomplished in establishing methods of permanency and universality
in the ritual-music, the processes of selection, accretion, and
assimilation went on for more than a century after his death. This
collection, which was written in the vague neumes of the period, became
the most important factor in the music of the Western church and by
the end of, the eleventh century had practically superseded all other
bodies of ritual-music--such as the African, Celtic, Gallican, and
Spanish[3] (Mozarabic)--which had previously gained ascendency in the
various countries which acknowledged spiritual allegiance to Rome.

The historic collection of Gregorian music divides itself into two
large groups--(1) the music of the Mass, together with that of the
baptismal, burial, and other occasional services, corresponding with
the modern Missal, and (2) the music of the daily Hours of Divine
Service, corresponding with the modern Breviary. There are about
630 compositions in the first large group, in which only scriptural
words appear, classified as follows: about 150 Introits (_Antiphonæ
ad introitum_), about 150 Communions (_Antiphonæ ad communionem_),
110 Graduals, 100 Alleluias, 23 Tracts, and 102 Offertories. In the
music of the second large division (the Hours of Divine Service) there
is much less variety than in the music of the Mass. As this group of
services did not have the same official position as the Mass, less
restraint was exercised in regard to modifications. In this collection
are to be found some 2,000 antiphons and about 800 Greater Responds,
besides many Lesser Responds, Invitatories, and Versicles.

It is now quite generally believed that there were no essential
differences between Ambrosian and Gregorian music. If any differences
existed, they were in such compositions as the Ambrosian hymn, which
was written for the use of the congregation and was more measured and
stately in its swing than its Gregorian counterpart, which was sung by
the trained choirs and therefore capable of much more rhythmic freedom
and melodic embellishment.

The Roman singing school (_Schola Cantorum_) played a large and
important part both in the labor of codifying the great collection
since known as Gregorian music, and in spreading the Gregorian chant
among the faithful in other lands. This latter task was greatly
facilitated by the establishment of numerous singing schools, modelled
after the Roman school, in England, France, and Germany, under the
auspices of monastic orders or powerful prelates. Among the most famous
of these schools were the one at Metz, founded by Bishop Chrodegang,
which maintained great prestige up to the twelfth century; the one at
Oxford, founded by Alfred the Great; the monastic school of Fulda,
which held the foremost place in Germany; and the one at St. Gall,
Switzerland, whose fame and achievements eclipsed all the others and
which was celebrated far and near for the elaborateness and excellence
of its musical service and for the devotion and enthusiasm of its
monks in the advancement of ecclesiastical music during the eighth,
the ninth, and especially the tenth century. England became acquainted
with Gregorian chant during the lifetime of Gregory the Great, when St.
Augustine (not to be confused with the Latin father) was commissioned
in 597 as an apostle to carry Christianity to the island across the
channel. In France and Germany (Franconia and Allemania) Pepin,[4]
and especially Charlemagne, gave energetic and active support to the
movement to bring about uniformity with Rome, and by the beginning of
the ninth century the Gregorian chant had supplanted the old Gallican
chant in all the domains of the great emperor. Spain, however, did not
accept the Gregorian chant until the eleventh century, during the reign
of Pope Gregory VII.

The inexact system of notation (neumes) in which the Gregorian
antiphonary was written necessarily laid great emphasis on the oral
transmission of the melodies, hence it was hardly possible to attain
perfect uniformity in different countries and in different periods. Yet
it is believed that the singers of the Roman school, who were subject
to severe penalties for even slight infractions of the traditions of
the Gregorian procedure, succeeded in preserving through the Middle
Ages not only the great body of Gregorian chant but their traditional
performance with a wonderful degree of purity and inviolability.
But away from Rome, while the general principles of procedure were
preserved intact, modifications in details undoubtedly crept in, some
unconsciously and some in deference to the various national or local
predilections. Thus in Gaul and the northern countries generally, the
oriental style of ornamentation, retained from earlier periods in many
of the Roman melodies, met with scant favor. To satisfy these sturdy
and independent singers the ornate qualities were frequently softened
or eliminated altogether.

Additions to the original ritual music of the Gregorian service
appeared about the beginning of the tenth century under the names
of sequences and tropes. The sequence was a melody of hymn-like
structure which derived its name from its position in the Mass, being a
continuation or sequence of the Gradual and Alleluia. It had long been
a custom, introduced from the East, to prolong the final vowel of the
Alleluia-chant, sung between the Epistle and the Gospel, into a free
melody or vocal flourish without words, called jubilation, originally a
kind of ecstatic improvisation. French musicians in the ninth century
added words to these melodies. They thus became separate compositions
to which at first the name ‘prose’ was given, since the words adapted
to the music were without meter. Later, when these compositions became
thoroughly independent, texts in metrical form were written for them,
the name ‘prose’ was dropped as no longer appropriate, and the new
name ‘sequence’ assumed. This change in name and character is credited
to the St. Gall monk, Notker Balbulus (died 912). Sequences became
very popular from the eleventh to the fifteenth centuries and mediæval
office-books abound in fine specimens, many of them of extreme beauty
and originality. During the tenth and eleventh centuries the monastery
of St. Gall remained the chief centre of activity in the composition
of sequences and Notker found a multitude of followers, mainly in
Germany. Quite independent of the St. Gall influence, a second centre
of activity appeared at the monastery of St. Martial in Limoges,
culminating in the twelfth century in Adam of St. Victor in Paris.
These sequences, patterned after the Greek model, approached more and
more the form of the hymn, in which they finally disappeared.

In the sequences the vernacular, as well as Latin, was employed
and they were freely used in the Mass, becoming ‘a sort of people’s
song.’ But since they were in reality extra-liturgical, they were
all suppressed, except five, when the Council of Trent revised the
Roman liturgy in the sixteenth century. The five at present in use
are: _Victimæ Paschali_, appointed for Easter Sunday, written by Wipo
early in the eleventh century, the oldest of the five and the only one
similar in structure to Notker’s sequences; _Veni Sancte Spiritus_
for Whitsunday, written probably by Innocent III at the end of the
twelfth century, called ‘the Golden Sequence’ by mediæval writers;
_Lauda Sion_ for the festival Corpus Christi, written by St. Thomas
Aquinas supposedly about the year 1261; _Stabat Mater_, sung since
1727 on the Friday in Passion Week, of uncertain authorship; and _Dies
Irae_, sung on All Souls’ Day and in the Requiem or Mass for the Dead,
written by Thomas of Celano late in the twelfth century or early in
the thirteenth century. In the thirteenth century the poetry of the
Latin Church attained its period of greatest brilliance and amid the
rich efflorescence of this wonderful epoch the _Dies Irae_ stands
incomparable, the finest example of rhymed Latin poetry of the Middle
Ages. Second to it in poetic beauty is the _Stabat Mater_. It should be
added that the authors of the above sequences were combined poets and
composers, as poetry and music were twin-born arts during the Middle
Ages.

Another of the many illustrations of the readiness with which the
churches of the West accepted the musical practices of the East was
the ‘trope,’ which was adopted among the Franks in the ninth and
tenth centuries from the many Byzantine musicians who came into the
West during this period. The trope was not unlike the sequence in its
development. The name was originally given to any succession of tones
without text that occurred in the florid chants. Tuotilo of St. Gall
(died 915) developed the tropes into quasi-independent compositions
by setting words to them and interpolating them among the chants
of the Mass, thus thrusting them into the Gregorian liturgy. These
interpolations, some very extensive and ornate, found their way into
all the Mass-chants except the Credo, which was considered too sacred
to violate. But since the tropes were regarded by the Council of Trent
as weakening accretions to the venerable structure of church-music,
they, as well as the sequences, were banished from the liturgy in its
final revision.


                                   III

The tendency of ecclesiasticism has always been to curb and discourage
individual effort toward progress in all matters pertaining to the
development of ritual-music. This was not altogether strange, for
until modern times music existed in the church solely for liturgical
purposes. It was not desired that its effectiveness should be
considered apart from the religious idea with which it was so
intimately associated in the liturgy. So completely were text and music
merged into one artistic unity that the church authorities consistently
and persistently resented any effort to glorify music for its own
sake or at the expense of the liturgic idea. The state of immobility
in which ritual music existed was the natural sequence to the church
doctrine of immutability. Notwithstanding constant temptation to
experiment and introduce innovations, the efforts of the Roman singers
were rigidly restricted to the problems of perfecting the performance
of the ritual music as prescribed by church law and tradition. From
the standpoint of the liturgy (from which standpoint alone this music
should be judged) the Roman singers must have attained a standard of
ideal perfection in beauty and expressiveness of tonal utterance, and
in preserving the original liturgical significance of the music in the
service.

So conservative was Rome and so fettered was Italy by the venerated
traditions of the Papal Chapel that no change in musical methods was
possible in this field. Outside of Italy, however, conditions were
more favorable to progress. In the triumphant march of Christianity
over Western Europe under the leadership of Rome many concessions were
made to local customs and usages. The independent northerners steadily
refused to accept with unquestioning allegiance the traditions of
Rome in all matters pertaining to ritual-music, and thus stagnation
was prevented and the hope of further progress for music in time
became a reality. Out of the experiments and occasional innovations of
the venturesome singers of the northern countries there were slowly
and laboriously laid the foundations on which it became possible to
construct the succeeding system of ecclesiastical polyphonic music.
But when, in the fullness of time and with infinite patience and toil,
this stately edifice was reared, how appropriate and fitting it was
that the Roman Palestrina, himself associated for many years with
the Sistine Chapel, should have been the one to lay on its altar the
richest treasures of religious music that the Roman Church possesses,
the purest, most complete and perfect expression of the spirit of the
Roman liturgy!

Before the Carlovingian era the practice of music was restricted to
the singing schools founded for the preservation and propagation of
Gregorian chant. But with the great impetus given to learning under
Charlemagne the consideration of liturgic music passed to the monastery
study. Music became a compulsory subject in the curriculum of the
cathedral and monastery schools, and its theory as well as its practice
received the attention of the learned monks and scholars. It was from
this direction that the next recorded advances in musical art appeared.

In the writings of these ecclesiastical musicians and scholars we
find accounts of the clumsy, yet persistent efforts of the singers
and theorists to break away from the prevailing monophony or unison
chanting of Gregorian music and to improve upon current systems of
notation. The Flemish monk Hucbald (who died about 930), in his _Musica
enchiriadis_, described the earliest known efforts at polyphony,
which he called Organum or Diaphony (See Vol. I, pp. 161 ff). Guido
d’Arezzo (died about 1050), sometimes called ‘the father of music’
and undoubtedly the most impressive musical personality in the early
part of the Middle Ages, probably originated the four-lined staff for
indicating pitch relationships and invented solmization, a system of
reading music through the association of tones with syllables that is
the direct ancestor of our present-day systems of reading music by
syllables (‘Tonic Sol-fa,’ ‘Movable Do,’ ‘Fixed Do’). He is credited
by later writers with many innovations and discoveries which possibly
belonged rightfully to talented and ingenious contemporaries who,
however, did not succeed in stamping themselves on their own age
as vividly as did this great singer and teacher. Franco of Cologne
(died about 1200), in his famous treatise on Measured Music, gives a
voluminous account of his own and contemporary thought about intervals,
consonances and dissonances, time-values of notes, etc.

By the beginning of the thirteenth century the science of music had
reached the point where music could be accurately notated as regards
both pitch and time relationships and its further development became
correspondingly accelerated. The organization of music on the twofold
basis of regularity of stress or accent and of fixed proportions in the
division of time-units was hastened by the growing desire of singers
to add a new voice-part to the old Gregorian chant. This practice of
part-singing, at first called ‘organum,’ later ‘discant,’ undoubtedly
had its origin in the study-rooms of the choirs and singing schools.
The choristers were naturally chosen because of their unusual aptitude
for music. The larger part of their time was given up not only to the
perfecting of means for the most effective performance of the church
music, but also to the study of the theory and practice of music
in all its then known phases. The creative instinct more and more
seized upon them. Notwithstanding ecclesiastical restrictions the
singers were too much under the seductive spell of the inner spirit
of their art not to yield to the ready temptation of delving into the
infinite possibilities of new tonal combinations and devices that lay
so close at hand. When the idea of singing two melodies at the same
time was once grasped (we have no definite knowledge how it was first
suggested), the singers took it up with avidity.

At first experiments were restricted to two voices or parts. While
one chorister was singing a familiar chant-melody another would sing
a second melody an octave or a fourth or a fifth below it, usually
joining it at the end in unison. The progression of two voices or parts
moving in parallel octaves was known to the Greeks and was called by
them ‘magadizing’--from the magadis, a stringed instrument. The singing
of two concurrent parts in parallel fourths or fifths did not offend
mediæval ears as it does modern ears, probably because of the exact
parallelism of such melodic movement, which is merely a different kind
of unison.[5] The earliest parallel movement was evidently in fourths,
not in fifths, as usually stated in musical histories. (See Weinmann,
‘History of Church Music,’ page 74.)

Various kinds of organum soon came into vogue. Three-part organum
resulted from doubling the lower of the two parts an octave higher, and
four-part organum from adding to these three parts the original upper
part an octave lower, thus producing simultaneously moving octaves,
fourths, and fifths. Such a progression of parts, quite obnoxious
to ears accustomed to harmony, impressed Hucbald as ‘a delightful
concord.’[6] As the experiments increased, the accompanying voice
(the discant) was added above as well as below the chant (the _cantus
firmus_, or fixed voice). The monotony of exclusive parallelism was
broken by sometimes sustaining the same tone in one part while the
other part moved up or down (oblique motion) or by letting the two
parts move in contrary direction, and lastly, by mixing these three
kinds of tone movement, thus producing greater variety in the intervals
used. When this freer movement of parts was recognized as essential to
more pleasing vocal effects, the word discant came to be applied to it
to distinguish it from the more primitive form of movement--organum--in
parallel fourths, fifths, and octaves. Until the thirteenth century the
intervals most used in all styles of part-writing were fourths, fifths,
octaves, and unisons. Thirds and sixths, though occasionally permitted,
were regarded as dissonances until the period when harmony came to be a
conscious element of musical thought.


[Illustration: The Playing Angels]
_Altar piece by Hubert and Jan van Eyck_


Until a definite system of notation was devised, the discanting parts
to the chants were extemporized by the singers. But when the staff was
invented and notes or points were employed to indicate the exact pitch
of the tones of the melodies, the name counterpoint (_punctus contra
punctum_, note against note) was given to the part or parts added to
the chant (_cantus firmus_). The term counterpoint[7] displaced discant
in the thirteenth century, and from this time the art of counterpoint
developed as the number of added parts increased and the various kinds
of intervallic relationships among the interdependent parts were
recognized and systematized.

The foundation of all the art-music of the Middle Ages was the chant;
and the science of music concerned itself wholly with the addition of
more or less free and independent parts to the chant-melodies. Musical
invention, however, was limited entirely to these accompanying parts.
Until probably the fourteenth century or even later, composers as such
were unknown. Since music in the church was never considered apart
from the liturgy to which it was wedded, not only did the melodic
form of the chants themselves (that is, their rising and falling
inflections of pitch) follow quite closely the natural rhetorical
utterance of the words of the liturgy, being an intensification of the
natural values of forceful speech, but for several centuries after
the principle of polyphony was thoroughly recognized the intricate
church compositions, such as the masses and motets, were constructed
by using the liturgic chants as subjects and adding free parts to
these. At first the principal melody (subject) was taken from the
chant books; but in course of time secular songs of the day found
their way into the choral parts, either as the principal melody to
which other parts were supplied or as an accompanying part to a given
plain-song melody. The secular words, frequently of questionable moral
quality, were often carried along with the melodies into the sacred
company of actual ritual-music and the singers found such a combination
neither irreverent nor incongruous. It was quite analogous to the
custom, common among the early painters, of painting the portraits of
such ordinary mortals as wealthy purchasers or patrons on the same
canvas with saints or apostles, or even with the Madonna. The church
authorities frowned upon mingling secular and sacred elements in
ecclesiastical music in this manner, and the practice, so common in the
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, led to such gross abuses that it
was finally suppressed.

The important rôle which the church singers themselves played in the
development of music in this formative period is worthy of passing
notice. Foremost in importance is to be noted that the choirs were
in fact training-schools for composers. Almost without exception the
church composers were graduated, so to speak, from the choirs into
the more exalted and distinguished sphere of creative work, having
first gained their practical training and experience as choristers.
But the humbler singers themselves were not without a good measure
of influence. In their experiments in the study-rooms, as well as in
the actual singing of written compositions, they served to counteract
the pedantic rules of theorists by following the dictates of the
ear as against mere rule. Thus chromatic tones not indicated in the
score were frequently sung by the experienced choristers who followed
their natural musical feeling, and later theory sanctioned what they
intuitively felt. In this way natural musical impulse (which Wagner
has so beautifully symbolized in Walther in _Die Meistersinger von
Nürnberg_) many times softened the austerity and harshness of musical
practices dictated by mediæval theory.


                                   IV

While, under the guidance of scholasticism, the stream of church song
was thus gradually gaining artistic momentum and expressive beauty
and power through the upbuilding of a complicated science of melodic
interweaving, a second stream of song, unfettered by rule or tradition,
was modestly and quietly flowing along, gushing from the hearts of
the people and fed from secular emotions and experiences. Until
the humanistic movement in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries
discovered points of contact and mutual interdependence, these two
streams of religious and secular song seldom touched in their onward
flow, for they sprang from widely divergent sources and were guided
by widely differing principles of artistic utterance. In the history
of Western Europe ecclesiastical music has exercised a remarkably
small and disproportionate influence on the nature and development of
secular music; on the contrary, it has frequently weakened and changed
its own standards under the impact of secular ideals and styles. Many
folk-songs doubtless imitated melodic and modal characteristics of
the chant-melodies, but there has always existed a certain antipathy
between these two forms. The early indifference of the popular mind
to church music is easily traceable to the facts that this music was
cultivated exclusively by ecclesiastics, that it was sung in Latin, a
language which the people neither understood nor cared for, and that
the people had no part in church song outside the few non-liturgical
hymns.

The discussion of secular music in the Middle Ages is necessarily
beset with difficulties of large proportions, since very few authentic
examples of folk-melodies of this period have been preserved. Musical
learning was confined almost exclusively to monks and ecclesiastics who
had no real interest in the preservation of these wild-flower products.
Those that were pressed into service as parts of polyphonic church
music undoubtedly underwent melodic and rhythmic alterations to suit
their new environment. In all of them words and music were twin-born;
but, while many of the beautiful mediæval and earlier poems are extant,
their melodies seem to be irretrievably lost.[8]

The secular music of the Middle Ages had no direct or immediate
bearing on the development of musical art, but the courtly troubadours
and minnesingers and, later, the mastersingers of humbler origin,
served to keep alive the practice of solo singing with instrumental
accompaniment and thus maintained the idea of individual expression
which had been banished from the church in the early centuries. The
first outburst of popular song that attained the significance of a
distinct movement occurred in southeastern France among the nobles
of sunny, contented, and cheerful Provence. These troubadours, who
flourished throughout southern France, Italy, and Spain from about 1100
to 1300, were concerned largely with the deeds of chivalry, especially
that phase of the idea of knightliness that glorified the love of some
beautiful or good woman as the inspiration of, or the reward for,
deeds of adventure or valor. In the intense feeling and strong lyric
impulse of these courtly poet-singers is to be found the beginning of
the modern art of lyric poetry. They showed great ingenuity in the
invention and elaboration of verse-forms[9] and coupled with this gift
was a musical inventiveness of marked power which in time developed a
style quite divorced from the influence of plain-song. The melodies,
following the rhythmical swing of the verse, frequently approximated
the structure and feeling of the modern phrase and phrase-group. The
development of this feeling for the organization of melodic units later
led to most important results when the secular impulse seized upon the
perfected methods of scholastic music.

In the north of France and in England the trouvères (both ‘trouvère’
and ‘troubadour’ mean ‘an inventor or finder’) followed close upon
the troubadours, whom they freely imitated both in style and poetic
themes. In their artistic activities, however, they were more closely
associated with ecclesiastical poets and musicians than were the
troubadours, there was less divergence from the church style in their
melodies, and hence their efforts entered more directly as a shaping
force in the succeeding epoch of musical development in Flanders and
England. They were also more frequently of humble origin than were
the troubadours. Adam de la Hále (about 1230 to 1287), probably the
most conspicuously gifted in the long line of worthy trouvères, was of
humble birth, the son of a well-to-do burgher of Arras, in Picardy. He
was a master of the _chanson_, sixteen of which are preserved written
in three parts and in rondeau form. These are among the oldest known
examples of secular compositions in more than two parts. In the same
manuscript with these _chansons_ are preserved six Latin motets in
florid counterpoint. His name looms large in musical history, however,
from the fact that his dramatic pastoral play called _Le jeu de Robin
et Marion_ (written for the French court at Naples, where the first
performance was given in 1285) is the earliest example of what we now
call comic opera. It is written in dialogue and grouped into scenes;
airs, couplets, and pieces for two voices singing in alternation but
never together are scattered through the play, during the performance
of which eleven personages appear. This quaint song-play, which is a
development or expansion of the earlier _pastourelle_, was given in
Arras in 1896 during the festival in commemoration of the composer.
Adam’s task seems, however, to have been little more than that of a
compiler, since the most of the songs were not of his own composition.
Nevertheless he is altogether one of the most interesting personalities
in the pre-Netherland period.

Parallel with the impulse given to secular song and poetry by the
troubadours and trouvères, but beginning a little later, was the growth
of the minnesingers, or love-singers, of Germany. This movement,
extending through the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, was limited
almost exclusively to men of noble birth and aristocratic rank and was
associated with the pomp of courtly life. Its influence on the general
trend of musical development was, therefore, less marked than that of
the corresponding movement in France, particularly in northern France.
Relatively fewer of the minnesongs reached or impressed the popular
ear, because of the greater exclusiveness of the minnesingers and
the less pleasing outlines of their melodies, especially the earlier
ones. The range of their themes was wider than that of their French
contemporaries, including nature, qualities of character, patriotism,
and piety, as well as love and chivalrous deeds. The minnesongs on the
whole display more seriousness than is found in the songs of France,
primary emphasis always being given to the words. At first modelled
after the declamatory style of Gregorian chant, their melodies lacked
the easy flow of the troubadour songs, but the later ones are marked
by strongly modern feeling for rhythm, phrase structure, and definite
key, and display the delightful naïveté of the German folk-song. Many
of them undoubtedly passed into folk-melodies and from thence into the
chorale literature of the German Reformation period.

The mastersingers followed in the wake of the declining minnesingers.
Drawn entirely from the burgher or artisan classes and organizing
themselves into guilds after the manner of the contemporary
trades-union, they strove to imitate the methods of their aristocratic
forerunners, without, however, sharing their artistic and lyric
endowments. At a time when their social and economic superiors were
entirely engrossed in the political and religious turmoils of the
times, they succeeded in keeping alive a real love for music in the
hearts of the common people and in preserving a wholesome reverence
for the dignity and worth of the art. Aside from this important
function, they did nothing directly to advance the art of music. In
_Die Meistersinger von Nürnberg_ Wagner gives an historically accurate
picture of their hopelessly pedantic methods and reactionary spirit,
which were indeed far removed from the nature of real folk-music. The
vast bulk of their melodies were weak imitations of church chants or
popular folk-songs. At long intervals a mastersinger such as Hans
Sachs, the quaint and lovable cobbler of Nuremberg (1494-1576), would
manifest a spark of real lyric genius. The first guild is supposed to
have been established at Mayence on the Rhine in 1311 by Heinrich von
Meissen, called Frauenlob, himself a distinguished minnesinger, the
last of that order. The guilds multiplied and were especially active
from the fourteenth to the sixteenth century. After 1600 the movement
lost its significance and the guilds dropped by the wayside one by one,
though a few lingered on until the nineteenth century, the last one
having been disbanded at Ulm in 1839.

The special historical significance of the troubadours, trouvères,
and minnesingers is to be found in the fact that these secular
poet-musicians of both high and low degree composed their melodies
under the impulsion of natural, spontaneous musical feeling rather
than prescribed theoretical law. If they followed the feeling for
church modes at all, this feeling instinctively led them to construct
their melodies more and more in those modes corresponding to our
modern major and minor scales. Naumann, in his ‘History of Music,’[10]
gives a number of these melodies in full. One of them, _L’autrier par
la matinée_, by Thibaut, King of Navarre (1201-1253), a celebrated
troubadour, moves entirely in the key of G major. Another is ‘The
Loveliness of Woman’ (_Tritt ein reines Weib daher_), a proverb[11]
by the minnesinger Spervogel, dating from the middle of the twelfth
century, a refined melody clearly in the key of D major, employing
every tone of the scale. A third, ‘Broken Faith,’ a beautiful and
touching minnesong by Prince Witzlav, is modern enough in key feeling
and melodic structure to have flowed from the pen of Schubert. In all
of those quoted the phrases are clearly outlined, a sense of design and
melodic cohesion is manifested in the frequent repetition of phrases,
and through them all there breathes the spirit of free lyric invention
that differentiates them sharply from all existing church models and
makes them close kin to the developed songs of the eighteenth century
and later. The gradual development of such an untrammelled feeling
for free melody among the people explains the comparative rapidity
with which art-music, after its secession from the church modes and
ecclesiastical methods early in the seventeenth century, developed new
forms and expanded into new paths that led to a popular appreciation
never before accorded to music.


                                   V

The secular impulse from whence sprang the simple melodies of
the minnesingers and troubadours soon found a channel for fuller
expression in the art-music of the period immediately following the
decay of chivalrous song. It was inevitable that the tendency toward
secularization, already strongly developing in the other arts--notably
painting and architecture--should extend to music also. The beneficent
alliance of music and poetry both in the service of the church and
in the less pretentious effusions of the secular poet-musicians of
courtly estate naturally led thought to a desire that music should be
the helpful companion of poetry in all her wanderings, in the domain
of secular experiences as well as religious. As soon as the spirit
of polyphony had been firmly established in ecclesiastical music,
the church composers began to turn their attention to the rapidly
widening field of secular poetry for material on which to exploit
their newly-found contrapuntal skill. The first application of the
principles of polyphony to secular art-music manifested itself in
the French _chanson_ and the Italian _frottola_. Both of these were
merely popular melodies brought within the domain of the contrapuntal
principle. The _frottola_ seems to have been always set for four voices
in very simple movement, the _chanson_ for either three or four voices.
These two forms soon merged into the madrigal, which expanded its scope
so as to include almost any lyric composition of delicate texture
dealing with thoughts of rustic humor, sentiment, or passion, couched
in the language of everyday life. The madrigal in time developed into
a special department of composition, having a brilliant history of
its own and engaging the interested attention of nearly every noted
composer from the fourteenth to the sixteenth century. The word, whose
derivation is hopelessly entangled in a maze of disputed sources,
appears as early at least as the fourteenth century in connection with
pastoral or rustic poems of amorous character, and very naturally the
name was soon transferred to the music to which the words were set.

Few madrigals whose composition antedate the invention of printing
have been preserved. But all authorities agree that even in its earlier
stages it was composed for three or more voices in the prevailing
church modes. Throughout its best period, which closed practically
with the sixteenth century, it maintained the characteristic of
being sung without instrumental accompaniment of any kind.[12] The
association of concurrent parts with plain-song undoubtedly suggested
similar treatment for secular melodies, and the troubadours and
trouvères were probably the first to put this suggestion into practice.
But they passed out of existence before the art of discant had
progressed beyond its first stage of infancy and further development
of polyphonic secular music was left in the more skilled hands of
the scientifically trained musicians of the church. The madrigal, or
more strictly speaking its predecessors, was forthwith adopted by the
church composers, who treated it with much tenderness and lavished
on it all the learning and technical skill they could command. Since
these composers, however, were so thoroughly imbued by training and
experience with the characteristics and idioms of church music, we find
no essential differences, as far as the music is concerned, between the
madrigal and its ecclesiastical counterpart, the motet (see Chapter
II). These two forms have maintained an almost exact correspondence
with each other in each successive stage of their musical development.
The only real difference lay in the nature of the words employed, those
of the madrigal being always secular, those of the motet, sacred. While
the madrigal was just as polyphonic as the motet and followed the same
general laws of musical construction, it was in lighter vein and in
simpler style to suit the secular spirit of the words. The ponderous
and solemn character of the motet was avoided, the contrapuntal parts
became more plastic and expressive in conformity with the sentiment of
the words. These freer and more expressive qualities in the madrigal
were eagerly seized upon by the dramatic composers of the seventeenth
century, during which period the madrigal was a regular feature of the
opera. Dr. Stainer enumerates the following essential qualities of the
true madrigal: themes suitable in character to the words, variety of
rhythm, short melodic phrases, imitation and counterpoint.

The original home of the true madrigal is undoubtedly Flanders. It is
mentioned here as early as the first part of the fifteenth century,
when it was already a well established form of polyphonic writing
popular with both Flemish and Netherland composers. It was regarded by
them as second only in importance to the mass and motet. In a period
when the musical leadership of Europe was located in the Low Countries,
its cultivation by these learned masters insured its transmission to
other countries and, more important still to the development of musical
art, marked the first practical alliance of popular song and science.
The offspring of this union was destined to achieve important results
in the art-revolution of the seventeenth century.

Any narrative of early secular music would be peculiarly incomplete
without extended mention of the oldest example of secular polyphonic
music known to exist, the famous English canon or round, ‘Sumer is
icumen in,’ an ancient manuscript copy of which is among the richest
treasures of the British Museum. The first mention of this celebrated
piece, hidden away in the Harleian collection of manuscripts, was
made in the first decade of the eighteenth century. Until the middle
of the nineteenth century the date of the manuscript was assigned to
the fifteenth century. But after most minute and laborious research,
the English historian, William Chappell, discovered internal evidence
(which succeeding investigators have accepted) to prove that this
venerable manuscript was written between 1226 and 1240 at the abbey of
Reading in Berkshire by a monk named John of Fornsete. The manuscript
is, of course, the work of a copyist; no clew has been found to the
composer’s name.

The rustic character of the words would seem to ally it to the
madrigal, but its musical form is that of the rota or round, very
different from the free structure of the madrigal. In the manuscript
are also Latin words addressed to the Virgin, indicating its occasional
use for worship purposes. The old English words are as follows:

      ‘Sumer is icumen in, Lhude sing cuccu;
      Groweth sed and bloweth med, And springth the wode nu;
      Awe bleteth after lomb, Lhouth after calve cu;
      Bulluc sterteth, bucke verteth, Murie sing cuccu.
        Wel singes thu cuccu; Ne swik thu naver nu.’

The Latin directions on the manuscript for singing the round indicate
that the theme is to be sung in exact imitation by four voices of
equal compass which enter, each four measures after the preceding one.
Accompanying this strict four-part canon throughout are two additional
parts, called a ‘pes’ or ground-bass. This two-voiced burden consists
of a four-measure group which monotonously repeats itself over and over
again, the two parts exchanging places in regular alternation.

The extreme antiquity of the piece would alone make it an object of
reverent interest, for it is the earliest example of a canon, it is the
first recorded use of the ground-bass or _basso ostinato_, and it is
the only known piece in six real parts before the fifteenth century.
But the wonder grows when we consider the musical quality of this
remarkable melody of unknown parentage, ‘born out of due season.’ It is
sweet and joyous in character, fitting the pastoral mood of the words;
it flows along in graceful outline with a wonderful amount of melodic
variety; it maintains an easy rhythmic swing in definite three-pulse
measure; it has an unmistakably modern feeling for key--the key of F
major--made all the more definite by clearly defined tonic and dominant
harmonies which pulsate back and forth in alternate measures. In
musical feeling and expression it is ‘immeasurably in advance of any
polyphonic music of earlier date than the Fa-las peculiar to the later
decades of the sixteenth century’ (Rockstro). Its formal structure
displays full knowledge of the contrapuntal devices of the times and
also remarkable freedom in handling them.

The apparition of this warm-blooded melody amid the arid scholasticism
of the thirteenth century seems utterly incongruous. Yet Rockstro’s
explanation[13] seems plausible enough. He points out that some
folk-songs of greatest antiquity possess the same qualities of
ingenious grace that shine so resplendently in this melody. The words
are evidently Northumbrian; what could be more natural than that some
trained monkish ear caught the melody and words as they fell from the
untutored but inspired lips of some north-countryman, rubbed off a
rough place here and there, detected its adaptability for use as a
‘round’ theme (a quality quite common in folk-songs), and worked it out
with his clerical companions in extempore fashion after the custom of
the times?

The inference is irresistible that such a fragrant folk-song, if this
be a folk-song, could not have existed as an isolated specimen. The few
melodies of undoubted antiquity we possess demonstrate the presence of
unrecognized Schuberts and Mozarts, geniuses ‘born to blush unseen,’
among the humble but inspired singers even of those far-off centuries.
The devout and sincere monks who laid the formal foundations of the
art of music were too much under the thraldom of authority and theory
to perceive the spirit, or recognize the invaluable aid, of such free,
spontaneous song in working out the problems they set themselves to
solve. In many respects it was a real misfortune and a hindrance in
the development of art-music that more of its early steps of progress
could not have been taken under the stimulating influence of the
folk-song, instead of exclusively under the influence and guidance of
ecclesiasticism and the strict and deadening formalism of the early
church. The oft-repeated argument that it was necessary to evolve
complex musical forms before expressive musical utterance could exist,
falls to the ground, shattered by a single phrase of this inspired
Northumbrian lay. It would scarcely be maintained that the manufacture
of carriages preceded the creation of man or that man acquired an
extensive vocabulary before he became conscious of ideas surging within
him for utterance.

The religious thought of the monk-musicians of the early centuries was
centred on forms and externals, and the character of their religious
thought dominated all their mental activities. They were not ready to
be led by ‘a little child’; they had no ears attuned to the ‘still,
small voice’ of free-born, inspired song. The free spirit of the song,
which even in remotest periods insisted on choosing its own appropriate
form, did not find real lodgment in art-music until the Romanticism
of the nineteenth century conclusively demonstrated the inalienable
right of every musical thought to determine the nature of the musical
form through which it should be expressed, unfettered by tradition
or theoretical law. The growth of this principle of emancipation in
music has kept pace through all the centuries with the growth of the
same spirit of freedom in the individual consciousness of man. At the
beginning of the twentieth century we are for the first time in the
history of musical art beginning to breathe in an atmosphere of full
freedom in respect to the relation of musical thought to musical form.
If wild extravagances have occasionally resulted from the realization
of this full freedom, they are possibly the inevitable consequences
of a youthful overjoy at kicking loose from the old harness of
stereotyped forms--an exuberance of feeling that the present period of
necessary readjustment and orientation will temper and direct into real
constructive channels.


                              FOOTNOTES:

[1] Especially Gevaert, _La Mélopée antique dans le Chant de l’Église
latine_.

[2] The name ‘Sistine Chapel’ was not given to this organization until
the Pontificate of Sixtus IV (1471-1484); it was derived from the
_Cappella Sistina_ built by this pope.

[3] Practically all the music of these ancient collections has been
lost, excepting the Spanish or Mozarabic or Visigothic. Recent
discoveries have disclosed a considerable portion of the music of
this branch of the Church, so that we have some definite information
concerning at least three ancient ecclesiastical dialects of
ritual-music--the Gregorian, the Ambrosian, and the Visigothic or
Mozarabic. In a few Spanish churches the Mozarabic rites and music
still survive.

[4] Pope Paul in 760 sent copies of the _Antiphonarium_ and
_Responsoriale_ to King Pepin.

[5] Alert teachers of ear-training have frequently observed that
certain students will sing tones given them by dictation a fifth above
or below the given tone under the impression that they are singing in
unison with it. (See also Parry, ‘The Evolution of the Art of Music,’
Chap. 4.)

[6] Such an expression of pleasure can be explained only when it is
remembered that the monastic mind was thoroughly accustomed to being
absolutely submissive to authority. Mediæval ecclesiastical authority
dictated what was good or bad in musical theory and procedure, just as
it did in the realms of morals, ethics, and religion; and authority
decreed that only perfect intervals--fourths, fifths, and octaves--were
usable, therefore they were pleasing. It took several centuries of the
actual ‘practice’ of music to overcome the ban placed by ‘theory’ on
the interval of the third in certain cadences.

[7] The development of the technical material of composition,
imitation, canon, fugue, etc., is fully described in Vol. I.

[8] The melody of the celebrated ‘Lament’ over the death of
Charlemagne, composed in 814 and sung by both Franks and Germans, is
fortunately preserved to us. This remarkable melody (quoted by Naumann
in his ‘History of Music,’ Vol. I, p. 199) has a compass of practically
only three tones, yet in its simple outlines there is eloquent and
dignified expression of the popular love for the great emperor. The
melody of the more famous ‘Roland’s Song,’ also of Charlemagne’s
time, has not survived, although it was sung as late as the battle of
Poictiers in 1356.

[9] Among the favorite forms were the _canzonet_ or _chanson_, a
love-song addressed to some courtly dame, the _serenade_ or evening
song, the _aubade_ or day song, the _servante_, extolling the virtues
of some prince, the _tenzone_ or dialogue song, the _roundelay_, with
the same refrain repeated again and again, and the _pastourelle_,
descriptive of ‘Arcadian love in idyllic nature.’

[10] Chap. 8 of Vol. I is devoted to an unusually full and illuminating
discussion of the whole secular song movement of this period.

[11] As noted above, the melodies of the minnesongs were from the
beginning dependent on the metrical and poetical structure of the
strophe. The three principal kinds are the song (_Lied_), the lay
(_Lerch_), and the proverb (_Spruch_).

[12] The word madrigal was used at various periods to apply to two
other forms in addition to the one here described: (1) the solo
madrigal or _madrigale concertate con il basso continuo_, and (2) the
madrigal with accompaniment for several instruments, ‘apt for viols and
voyces,’ as the old English song books have it.

[13] Grove’s ‘Dictionary of Music and Musicians,’ Vol. IV, Art. ‘Sumer
is icumen in.’




                               CHAPTER II

                         THE POLYPHONIC PERIOD

     The Gallo-Belgic School; the Netherlanders; the Mass
     and its liturgical significance; the use of secular
     subjects--Conditions that fostered continuity of development:
     the ‘Mass of Tournay’; Dufay and Okeghem; Hobrecht’s
     _Parce Domine_; Josquin des Prés’ masses and motets; his
     expressive style--The motet as an extra-liturgical form; its
     development; its later characteristic style; distinction
     between sacred and secular music--Orlandus Lassus: his
     ‘Penitential Psalms’; his tendency toward a simpler style;
     his _Gustate et Videte_ and other compositions--Palestrina’s
     reforms, methods, and style; his masses, _Papæ Marcelli_,
     _Brevis_, and _Assumpta est Maria_; his motets and other
     compositions: Vittoria and others--Madrigal writers of the
     sixteenth century: Festa, Arcadelt, Willaert, Byrd, Morley,
     etc.


                                   I

Until about 1550 practically all art-music in western Europe was
choral. Though the first important steps in the development of music
were taken in Italy, devotion to the principles of unison Gregorian
chant kept the polyphonic idea from gaining a foothold there until
the fourteenth century. As we have seen, vocal counterpoint was the
offspring of northern musicians, and under their care and guidance it
developed into its most complex and perfected form. The first centre of
activity was Paris, during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. From
this point the art was gradually disseminated to the northward and its
development was continued through the experimentation and theorizing
of the musicians of northern France and Flanders (the Gallo-Belgic
School, 1360-1460). After these zealous apprentices had made ready
the crude tools of composition, there appeared real masters who
strove earnestly to convert the elaborate technical forms and devices
of vocal counterpoint into vehicles for the expression of musical
feeling and religious devotion. These masters were the Netherlanders
(from 1400 to 1550), whose mission it was to perfect the forms and
material of musical composition, and, working from the standpoint
of musical science, to compel these forms to serve the expressional
purposes of the art. So well did they accomplish these two ends that
for nearly two centuries all of western Europe gave musical allegiance
to the Netherlanders and looked to them for teachers, composers, and
choir leaders. During this period the Low Countries were the musical
headquarters of Europe.

In the first period of polyphony the singers had followed the
inspiration of the moment and certain general rules of intervallic
movement in improvising their discant to the Gregorian chant. In the
fourteenth century these unsystematic efforts gradually gave way to the
definite writing of all the parts to be sung. In the fifteenth century
the Netherlanders began systematically to develop and perfect the forms
crudely outlined by their predecessors in the fields of both church and
secular music. The forms of church choral music that held their chief
attention were masses, motets, psalms, and hymns. Among the secular
forms we find _chansons_ and madrigals. Of all these the mass, with its
separate parts, was destined to become the form on which the composer
expended his greatest care and skill and through which he sought to
express his noblest thoughts. It was to the Netherland period and to
the Roman Church composers thereafter what the sonata and the symphony
were to the composers of the nineteenth century and the decades just
preceding. In such reverence and respect was this form held that in the
preface of a mass published in 1539 by Grapheus in Nuremberg it could
be confidently asserted, ‘he who is not acquainted with the masses
of the old masters is ignorant of true music.’ The great importance
attached to the mass by composers was inevitable from its commanding
position in the church service. At this point it may be opportune to
discuss some of the essential features of the mass from the standpoint
of the liturgy.

Among the several offices of the Roman Catholic Church the mass is
the most fundamental and solemn--the chief doctrinal cornerstone on
which is reared the whole superstructure of Catholic faith and worship.
It was evolved from the dogma of the eucharist, to which was added at
an early period the Jewish idea of sacrifice, which formed so vital a
part of the old dispensation. Little by little it grew into the fair
proportions of a great religious poem, magnificent in outline and
texture, and breathing the religious ecstasies of the devout and holy
teachers and leaders and saints of the church. Scriptural lessons,
prayers, hymns, and responses are woven into the liturgic texture, all
being brought into harmonious unity under the sway of the controlling
idea of consecration and oblation. To the Roman Catholic the mass is
‘the permanent channel of grace ever kept open between God and his
church.’ As often as the eucharistic elements of bread and wine are
presented at the altar with certain prescribed prayers and formulas,
the atoning sacrifice of Christ is repeated through the miracle of
transubstantiation, ‘by which the bread and wine are transmuted into
the very body and blood of Christ.’[14] The following sentences from
Cardinal Gibbons’ ‘The Faith of Our Fathers’ make this central dogma
of the Catholic faith still more clear: ‘The sacrifice of the mass is
identical with that of the cross, both having the same victim and high
priest--Jesus Christ. The only difference consists in the manner of the
oblation. Christ was offered upon the cross in a bloody manner; in the
mass he is offered up in an unbloody manner. On the cross he purchased
our ransom, and in the eucharistic sacrifice the price of that ransom
is applied to our souls.’

The mass is not the product of any one individual or council or
hierarchical body, but, rather, is a gradual evolution,[15] a growth
from the richest and holiest experiences of generations of pious and
devout priests and monks, whose whole lives were dedicated to the
service of the Most High and to the upbuilding of his visible kingdom
on earth. Furthermore, in the mass the words of the liturgic text are
not to be dissociated from the musical tones in which they are uttered
by priest or choir. The spirit and meaning of the words so completely
saturate the musical forms chosen for their expression that word and
tone constitute an indissoluble artistic unit. And, while the aim of
the church has always been to restrict the function of music in the
service to a purely secondary place--to keep it in bondage to the
ritual--the enormous value of music as an effective reinforcement of
the poetic text was recognized from the very inception of liturgic
forms.

In explaining the potent influence which the ceremonies and rites of
the Roman Catholic Church have always exerted over the minds of men,
whether believers in that faith or not, one must take into account the
composite character of the appeal that is made. Exalted poetic text and
alluring tone are by no means the only agencies employed. Through every
avenue of approach and by means of a multitude of artistic agencies,
the mind and heart of the worshipper are assailed with the one object
in view to compel undivided attention to, and contemplation of, the
supreme mysteries of religious faith which the Roman liturgy sets
forth. The solemn magnificence of the ceremonial rites, with gorgeous
vestments and dignified gesture and the grace of swinging censers, is
enhanced by the grandeur of architectural proportions and decorations.
Every resource of artistic genius that painter can throw upon glowing
canvas or sculptor can chisel into marble forms is found on wall or
niche or altar. Long before the Florentine reformers stumbled upon
the principle of the union of all the arts in dramatic representation
and centuries before Wagner gave such insistent reiteration to this
principle, the Roman Church had given practical proof of the efficacy
of the perfect union of all the arts as an aid in the expression of
the religious idea. No one art existed for its own sake, nor did
it measure its effectiveness by the merits and value of its own
individual impressiveness; but each art borrowed something from its
association with the other arts and with the time-honored forms and
the hallowed memories which their universality and supposed divine
nature always evoked. Thus, as has been frequently pointed out, there
is much ecclesiastical art to which a largely fictitious value has been
attached because of its sacred and revered association.

But whatever may be said about the intrinsic artistic ineffectiveness
of much ecclesiastical plastic and pictorial art, no one can deny the
inherent beauty, power, and appropriateness of the music to which the
Roman Catholic liturgy is wedded. Of all the arts that were called into
the service of the church, music was best suited by its very nature to
respond to the new ideals of Christianity. The pictorial and plastic
arts were used to appeal to eye and imagination as reinforcements to
the inherent symbolism of ceremonial and ritual. But music, which has
no recourse to symbols or imagery and which has in its vocabulary
no suggestion of the material world outside of man, was far better
equipped, even in the infancy of the art, to lay hold of the essential
spirit of the liturgy and express it in terms that not only acted
directly and powerfully on the hearts and minds of the worshippers,
but threw a glamour and fascination over all its allied agencies of
expression. The spiritual and emotional appeals of the sublime ideals
of the Gospel struck a note in human consciousness which responded
in an outburst of artistic rapture that was unknown to pre-Christian
periods, and music, as the freest and least material of the arts, was
the first to develop a form of expression that was a fitting embodiment
of the indwelling religious motive and idea. So wonderfully did the
ancient creators of the religious melodies known as plain-song do their
work, and so perfectly did they blend word and tone in priestly chant
or choral response, that these melodies have not only been held in
reverence by the church ever since that far-off time, but they are now
the only musical forms permitted for certain important portions of the
liturgy.

Although the word ‘mass’[16] is, strictly speaking, applicable only
to the eucharistic service in its entirety, it has been used from
the early centuries of Roman Church history to designate certain
portions of the liturgy to which unusually solemn and impressive music
has been set. With the growth of counterpoint the opportunities for
increasing the impressiveness and elaborateness of these settings were
obviously multiplied. The parts of the service which were thus subject
to special musical elaboration were the _Kyrie_, the _Gloria_, the
_Credo_, the _Sanctus_, the _Benedictus_, and the _Agnus Dei_. These
six movements together comprise what was known as the ‘mass,’ and they
still constitute, with slight variations, the essential portions in
all musical masses, whether written for church or concert performance.
During the period under consideration it was an almost universal custom
to have one subject (_cantus firmus_) do service for all the movements
of a mass, which accordingly took its name from this subject. These
subjects, particularly in the earlier periods of polyphonic music,
were plain-song melodies, whence we have such names for masses as
_Missa Iste confessor_, _Missa Tu es Petrus_, and _Missa Veni sponsa
Christi_. But, as has already been mentioned, sacred melodies were
not the only ones chosen. Composers frequently invaded the domain of
popular song for subjects for their masses. Such ardent love-songs
as _Adieu, mes amours_ (‘Farewell, my love’) and _Baisez-moi_ (‘Kiss
me’) seem strangely out of place in such surroundings, but these and
similar names appear in the titles of many a mass of this period. The
most famous of all the popular songs thus used was the old French
love-song, _L’homme armé_ (‘The Armed Man’), which nearly every
Netherland master from Dufay[17] to Palestrina wove with infinite skill
into the texture of at least one mass, Josquin des Prés, indeed, into
two. If the composer wished to conceal the source of his subject, for
the ecclesiastical authorities naturally frowned upon the practice
of using secular melodies, or if he invented an original subject, as
he occasionally ventured to do, he affixed the title _sine nomine_
to his mass. If it had some uniform peculiarity of construction it
was called _Missa ad fugam_ or _Missa ad canones_. Sometimes it would
take its name from the number of voices for which it was written, as
_Missa quatuor vocum_, or from the mode in which it was composed, as
_Missa secundi toni_, or _Missa octavi toni_. Occasionally the subject
would be constructed upon the six tones of the hexachord and the work
entitled _Missa ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la_; or upon some practice-phrase
from the choir-room, as Josquin’s _Missa la, sol, fa, re, mi_.

                      [Illustration: Music score]
                          _L’homme armé_

The Netherlanders have been severely reproached for their frequent use
of non-ecclesiastical subjects for their church compositions, and at
first thought such a practice would seem to be entirely indefensible
and reprehensible. The censure was undoubtedly merited when the secular
words accompanied the folk-melodies in their forced journeys into
such sacred regions. It was equally merited in the early periods when
the meagre art of the discanters possessed so few resources either to
conceal the identity of the secular tune or to expunge its secularity
by rhythmic alterations. The case was quite different, however, with
the complicated polyphonic structures into which the later masters of
the ‘new art’ (_ars nova_) injected the secular melodies. With the
early discanters ‘the _tenor_ (the voice that carried the subject)
formed the foundation of the arches, now it became one of the arches
which, united in harmonious structure, formed the bridge.’[18] With the
contrapuntists the subject itself became more plastic and submitted
to whatever rhythmic changes were desirable in the working out of
their contrapuntal purposes; each part became entirely independent
in its melodic and rhythmic movement. In the complex interweavings
of voice-parts the identity of the subject itself became practically
lost. The ear could no longer identify it in performance as a complete
melody, though the eye could recognize it on the printed page. In
such a case the secularity of its origin became a largely negligible
element, swallowed up by the purely ecclesiastical manner in which
the subject was handled. In an era when it was not the custom for
composers to invent their own subjects, this practice of using merely
the melodies of secular songs for church compositions was no more
censurable than the later employment of folk-songs as the basis of many
of the splendid chorales of the German Protestant movement. Moreover,
it must be borne in mind, in justice to the Netherlanders, that during
this whole period there were no essential differences of style or
treatment to distinguish secular from sacred compositions.

But it should be further noticed that in the relation of text to music
there is revealed the most glaring weakness of the Netherlanders.
Until the brilliant close of this period was nearly reached, the text
was of quite secondary importance. Starting from a basis of theory
and science, counterpoint, in all its evolutionary processes, became
largely a matter of mathematical calculation in which the sound, not
the word, governed. So deeply were composers absorbed in working out
the problems of pure sound-combinations and so little importance
did they attach to the text that they did not deem it necessary to
write down more than the opening word of each movement of the mass,
as _Sanctus_ or _Benedictus_, leaving it to the intelligence of the
trained singers to fill in the remainder of the familiar texts as they
saw fit. This laxness in respect to the text invited many abuses,
such as the mixing of secular and sacred words, the interpolation of
unauthorized words, the blending of texts from various parts of the
liturgy, to the danger of errors in dogma, which eventually placed the
whole structure of polyphonic music under the reproach of the church
authorities.


                                   II

Notwithstanding faults due to the immaturity of the art and a certain
false perspective, the church composers of this period displayed,
up to their light, a rare devotion to the one supreme purpose of
enhancing the impressiveness of the religious rites and their liturgic
significance, thus making possible a line of unbroken continuity in
the development of the art of unaccompanied vocal polyphony, which was
destined to become the peculiar glory of the Netherland era. Trained
in cloisters and choirs, acknowledging the church as their only patron
and master to whose service they dedicated all their powers, these men
were far removed from worldly affairs and especially protected from
the distracting and corrupting influences of the savage strife and
turmoil of the times. Every important ecclesiastical establishment
maintained its own staff of composers, for, until the founding of
musical publishing houses soon after 1500 made the multiplication
and circulation of musical scores easy, the labor and expense of
copying the manuscripts prevented any extensive exchange of musical
compositions among the thousands of ecclesiastical establishments that
dotted western Europe and each establishment was compelled to depend
largely on its own resources for its more elaborate ritual-music.
For the most part the ecclesiastical musicians passed their lives in
the absorbing routine of their official duties, close to the heart
of their religion and living constantly in an atmosphere permeated
with austere ecclesiastical traditions. Thus the best Catholic music
of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, unaffected by the external
conditions and influences that brought weakness and decline to some of
the other arts, preserved its serene course of development toward its
culminating point in the sublime creations of Palestrina. But before
this zenith of the second great period of musical art was reached,
there were two centuries of artistic yearning and searching, a period
that Parry calls ‘the youth of modern music--a period most pure,
serene, and innocent--when mankind was yet too immature in things
musical to express itself in terms of passion or of force, but used
forms and moods of art which are like tranquil dreams and communings of
man with his inner self, before the sterner experiences of life have
quite awakened him to its multiform realities and vicissitudes.’[19]

The Netherland period was one of quite astonishing musical activity.
The number of musicians actually engaged in the composition of
ritual-music constitutes an imposing array (the names of nearly 400 are
recorded) and their actual output both in bulk and quality measures
not at all unworthily with that of the other arts of this period, the
names of whose masterpieces are household words. That the equally great
masterpieces of polyphonic vocal art are not familiar, indeed, are
almost wholly unknown even to musicians, is inevitable from the very
limitations imposed upon music by the matter of performance, and from
the inavailability of this music outside its special home--the church.
Its speech was always idiomatic, a kind of developed specialty, and,
for about two centuries after its culminating point was reached, it
became archaic even in the church from whose bosom it sprang, so that
the avenues to a wide public acquaintance with its peculiar beauties
were largely closed soon after its greatest masterpieces were written.

The masses and motets of the period reflect all the changing phases
of the gradually advancing musical art. They express the deep and
serious things of the art; the madrigals and _chansons_ are the
emanations of the composers’ lighter moments of relaxation, incidental
deviations from the main course of artistic endeavor, written mostly
for the entertainment of noble and wealthy patrons. The oldest known
mass is the celebrated ‘Mass of Tournay,’[20] which Coussemaker
ascribes to the thirteenth century. It is written in three parts
with the subject (_cantus_) in the middle; one of the added parts
moves almost constantly in parallel fourths or fifths with either
the subject or the third part, while this third part generally has a
contrary movement to one of the other parts. Historically it forms an
interesting transitional link between the primitive organum and the
crude counterpoint of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.

It is customary for musical historians to distinguish two Netherland
schools. The first was occupied with pioneer work; its music was severe
and unmelodious, simple and unpretentious when compared with that of
the succeeding school, with only faint attempts to attain euphonic
beauty; yet earnestness of purpose coupled with much contrapuntal
science and ingenuity are everywhere in evidence. William Dufay
(1400-1474) was the principal master of this school, although the
mass _Ecce Ancilla_, by Antoine Busnois (1440-1492), is regarded by
Naumann as ‘the most important musical historical monument up to the
year 1475.’[21] In this period the several movements of the mass
began to take on a certain definiteness and individuality of form
corresponding to the natural subdivisions of the texts, making several
movements within each movement. Likewise certain modes of treatment
came to be associated with certain movements. Thus, in the _Agnus Dei_,
which was divided into two parts, the composer was expected to employ
the utmost resources of his contrapuntal skill; the second part was
usually written in canon or in intricate fugue and frequently with a
larger number of voices than in the other movements of the mass. The
_Benedictus_ came to be regarded as a composition for two, three, or
four solo voices, usually followed by a choral _Osanna_. And so the
various movements gradually assumed quite definite outlines as to form
and character, which remained in force for a century and a half.

With Joannes Okeghem (about 1430-1495 or 6) the second Netherland
school was ushered in. This master, to whom the laudatory title of
‘Prince of Music’ was given, appears to have carried the possibilities
of contrapuntal ingenuity and contrivance to extremest limits.
Comparatively few of his works are extant, and most of these display
wonderful technical skill in handling musical problems rather than
attempts at expression. Among those preserved is the famous _Missa
cujusvis toni_ (mass in any tone or mode), which seems to have been
composed as an intellectual exercise for the highly trained choristers
of his time, demanding in its rendition perfect mastery of all the
church modes and ability to transpose from one mode to another. He was
rather a great teacher and theorist than a great church composer. His
pupils carried the art of polyphony into all countries and Kiesewetter
maintains that through these students he became ‘the founder of all
schools from his own to the present age.’[22] One of the most prominent
of Okeghem’s contemporaries was Jacob Hobrecht or Obrecht (1430-1505 or
6), who was a most devoted disciple and admirer, though not a pupil,
of the learned master. He left many masses, motets, and _chansons_, in
some of which, notably in the motet _Parce Domine_ for three voices, he
attains a high degree of real expressive power. This fine work exerted
a powerful influence on Josquin des Prés and reveals its creator as
possibly the first composer to make polyphony bend to the necessity of
musical expression as we understand it.

Okeghem’s most celebrated pupil was Josquin des Prés (about 1450-1521),
who eclipsed his master’s fame in musical learning and wealth of
ingenuity and became the most brilliant exponent of the musical art
of the Netherlanders. He was the most popular composer and celebrated
musician of his time, the spread of his music as well as his fame being
greatly aided, no doubt, by the newly-invented process of printing
music from movable type, which appeared at the very moment when he
was at the height of his power. In his best works (he was a most
prolific writer) we can detect a more flowing and emotional style and
catch glimpses of a quality of sublime seriousness joined with fervid
beauty that still makes a strong appeal to modern taste. Ambros well
characterizes him as ‘the first musician who impresses us as having
genius.’ His printed works consist of 19 masses (32 are extant), more
than 150 motets, and about 50 secular works. Of his masses the most
beautiful and the most advanced in style are the _Ad fugam_, the
_De Beata Virgine_, the _Da pacem_, and the _La, sol, fa, re, mi_.
In Naumann’s judgment, no master of modern times has surpassed the
grandeur of the _Incarnatus_ from the _Missa Da pacem_. When not in
a trifling or humorous mood, he rises above form and technique into
the realm of expression where, among vocal contrapuntists, he is
excelled only by Lassus and Palestrina. The music of Dufay and his
contemporaries was frequently beautiful, but it was helpless to reflect
the character of the words. Whether the words were gay or mournful, the
music conveyed the same impression to the listener. But Josquin knew
how to unlock the expressive power of music and henceforward music more
and more assumed the function of definite delineation of mood and word.

But Josquin evidently possessed a light-heartedness and vivacity that
would not always brook restraint and that led him to introduce bits of
quaint humor into his church music that, to say the least, displayed
a lack of reverence and marred an otherwise admirable style. It is
related that he much desired to receive a church benefice from Louis
XII of France, at whose court he held an appointment, but as often as
he applied to the proper official he received only the answer, _Lascia
fare mi_. At length Josquin wearied of the delay and, seizing upon the
musical sound of the courtier’s words, composed a mass on the subject
_La, sol, fa, re, mi_, which appeared again and again, mimicking the
official’s curt and oft-repeated answer. The musician’s wit pleased the
king and won his promise of a benefice, which promise, however, was
straightway forgotten. But the composer was in nowise discouraged. He
dedicated to the king a motet for which he took the text from the 119th
Psalm (118th in the Vulgate), _Memor esto verbi tui servo tuo, in quo
mihi spem dedisti_ (‘Remember the word unto thy servant, upon which
thou hast caused me to hope’), thinking thereby to quicken the memory
of his royal master. Louis was evidently dull of understanding, for
yet a second time the musical joker dedicated to him a motet, _Portio
mea non est in terra viventium_ (‘My portion is not in the land of
the living’), which evidently won the object of his desire, for still
another motet, _Bonitatem fecisti cum servo tuo_, is generally regarded
as a polite thank-offering for the appointment. It is further related
that the king, who was wholly unmusical and who possessed a very feeble
voice, requested the great musician to compose a piece in which his
Majesty could join. The sagacious Josquin forthwith wrote a canon for
two boys’ voices, supplemented by a part for the king consisting of
one note sustained throughout.[23] In his celebrated _Missa Hercules
Dux Ferrariae_, a quaint conceit prompted him to build his subject,
_Re ut re ut re fa mi re_, on the succession of syllables whose vowels
correspond to the vowels in the words _Hercules Dux Ferrariae_.
These were innocent pranks, but he carried his musical trifling to
unpardonable extremes in his _Missa didadi_ (‘Dice’ Mass), in which
he set himself the profane task of solving a dice-problem in terms of
musical technique. But the faults of Josquin were in large measure
the faults of his period. In common with Okeghem and others, he was
exceedingly fond of inventing riddle-canons and other musical puzzles.
So much did this practice, especially in connection with ecclesiastical
music, arouse the indignation of Martin Agricola that this worthy
scholar even threatened the composers with the terrors of the last day
‘when all will certainly not go well with the outrageous riddle-makers.’

The modernity of Josquin’s art, his ability to interest us by intensity
of expression in depicting the meaning of the words, is finely
illustrated in his two motets _Planxit autem David_ and _Absolon fili
mi_. In the latter especially he attains an expression of pathos, an
effect of extreme sadness, which at times becomes poignant. In the
closing measures there occurs a remarkably daring use of the augmented
fifth, a dissonance whose introduction is ‘terribly effective.’ His
psalm _Laudate pueri_, in contrasting mood, is pervaded by a persistent
feeling of joy. The music, which moves happily along through a chain of
pure concords without a disturbing dissonance, exhibits tranquillity
and joyful confidence throughout.

By a strange perversion the mass, although the most solemn and sacred
portion of the Roman service, was treated by church composers in their
musical settings of it up to the middle of the sixteenth century as
the proper parade-ground for all conceivable forms of musical riddles
and extravagances that would display their technical learning and
ingenuity. But these aberrations are found much less frequently in
the motets and madrigals. Here the composer was governed by no such
fancied necessity; he felt a much greater sense of freedom to follow
musical impulses. Hence these forms were the first to profit from the
remarkable awakening of the musical understanding that took place
at the close of the fifteenth century and to be enriched with the
accompanying first flashes of the dawning sense of harmonic propriety
and characterization.


                                   III

The motet[24] occupies a place in ecclesiastical music next in
importance to the mass. It has always been extra-liturgical; the
words, though not prescribed, are generally selected from the Bible
(the Psalms, antiphons, etc.) or the office-books. In the Roman Church
service it is intended to be sung at high mass, usually after or in
place of the plain-song offertorium for the day to fill out the time
while the priest is preparing the oblations and presenting them at the
altar. The great antiquity of the motet is attested by the fact that
Franco of Cologne in his epochal work on Measured Music gives it place
in one of the three classes[25] of choral compositions in use in his
time. The characteristic features of the early motet were separate
texts for each voice and a subject (_tenor_) made up of some short
phrase or group of motives repeated several or many times, according to
the length of the composition.

These phrases were borrowed from either plain-song or secular
melodies. Like the mass, the early motet was not an original
composition, but the combination of existing chants or secular songs.
Frequently it was frankly secular; more frequently all the texts were
sacred, but sometimes, as in the mass, secular texts and melodies were
mingled with the sacred. When the texts in the motet were various,
they always bore some kind of mental relation to each other,[26]
a condition which was by no means always present in the mass when
different texts were used. The practice of providing each voice-part
with a separate text, while it tended to confuse the listener, served,
on the other hand, to emphasize the musical independence of the parts
and so threw stress on a quality of utmost benefit to the advancement
of contrapuntal methods.

A few motets by Philip of Vitry,[27] written about 1300, are the most
ancient purely church motets of which we have authentic record. We are
informed by Morley that this composer’s motets ‘were for some time
of all others best esteemed and most used in the church.’ Beginning
probably in France and cultivated with marked success by the great
Netherlanders, the motet reached its highest point of perfection under
Palestrina in Rome. It was adopted, with important modifications, into
the services of the two great branches of the Protestant Church from
their very beginning. In England, until the ‘full’ anthem finally
superseded it, and in Germany from Luther until after Bach’s time, it
held a high place in ecclesiastical music, but the words were almost
invariably in the vernacular, while in the Roman service they were
always in Latin.

In the period represented by Okeghem there may be noticed the
beginning of a distinctive style for motet-music differing quite
materially from that of the mass. It has been already stated that the
disfiguring extravagances and learned complexities which composers
felt in duty bound to lavish on the music of the mass, were more and
more avoided in the motet. A solemnity, dignity, and breadth of style,
of which one finds but few examples in the masses of the period, were
encouraged in the motet. This different viewpoint led composers to
focus their interest and attention on the portrayal of the meaning of
the words rather than on the working of contrapuntal miracles and the
church composers of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries left a rich
legacy of compositions in this form appropriate to their appointed
use and permeated with the spirit of devotion and reverence. After
the compelling genius of Des Prés had once revealed the expressive
capabilities of music, this new power was evoked with so much
enthusiasm by all his great contemporaries and successors among the
Netherlanders that the richest period of motet writing is to be found
between the years 1500 and 1600.

As soon as the text became a matter of solicitous care on the part
of composers, there can be discovered a number of distinct groups of
motets, distinguished from each other by the character of the texts
employed, each group possessing certain individual peculiarities. There
was a numerous class based on selections from the Gospels dealing with
the various parables, as the Pharisee and Publican. The Passion of our
Lord as given in the different Gospels formed the basis of another
large group. One of the earliest of these Passion motets is Hobrecht’s,
a work filled with deep pathos and tender sadness. The Passion motets
of Loyset Compère (about 1450-1518) are spoken of as possessing
extraordinary beauty. The Magnificat was frequently treated in motet
form, the oldest known example of which is Dufay’s. A vast number of
texts were drawn from the Book of Canticles, while the Lamentations
of Jeremiah inspired the writing of numberless compositions in motet
style. Carpentrasso’s Lamentations were sung in the Sistine Chapel
once each year until 1587, when they were superseded by Palestrina’s
superb compositions. Several of the sequences were also set as motets,
among which must be especially noted two by Josquin des Prés--a
_Victimæ Paschali_, in which he used parts of the old plain-song
melody intermingled with two popular airs, and a _Stabat Mater_, the
subject for which he borrowed from a secular air of the time, _Comme
femme_. Less interesting were the laudatory motets inscribed to princes
and nobles by the composers attached to their individual courts, and
the countless motets written for the greater festivals and special
occasions in the church calendar.

Reverence for the Virgin-mother inspired some of the most beautiful
of all motets and a multitude of these fine compositions, delicate in
texture and of impressive beauty, might be cited; such are Dufay’s
_Ave Regina, Salve Virgo_, and _Flos florum, fons amorum_; Brassart’s
_Ave Maria_; Bianchoys’ _Beata Dei genetrix_; Arcadelt’s _Ave Maria_,
which is now probably one of the best known of sixteenth-century motets
and which sounds wonderfully modern with its compact chords, sweet
tunefulness, and simple pathos; Gombert’s _Vita dulcedo_; Josquin’s
_Ave vera virginitas_. There remains to be mentioned the large group
of funeral motets or _Næniæ_, comprising some of the finest examples
of the pure motet style. One of the most celebrated of these is the
dirge written by Josquin in memory of his friend and teacher Okeghem,
which is scarcely exceeded in beauty by anything which this master has
produced.

About 1500 the triad was recognized as a musical factor of importance
and close upon this recognition came the discovery of modal harmony.
Chord progressions, groups of closely-knit harmonies, appropriate to
the church mode employed, now became common and in the relation of
this new factor to musical expression is to be found the basis of
distinction between secular and sacred music, a distinction which
rapidly grew more marked as the harmonic sense unfolded and developed.
From Josquin’s time secular music strove after the representation
of specific moods of feeling suggested by the words, in which
representation the new element of harmony was summoned to give warmth
and color and dramatic significance, while sacred music sought to
express only the general mood of the text, representing an unvariable
and fixed aspiration, with little or no attempt at detailed delineation.


                                   IV

The last great Netherlander, and indeed the greatest of them all, was
Orlandus Lassus or Orlando di Lasso (1532-1594), who spent nearly the
whole of the best creative period of his life outside the boundaries
of his native land in Munich in the service of the art-loving Duke
Albert V and his son Duke William of Bavaria. Next to Palestrina the
greatest genius of the sixteenth century, he left a deep impress on the
development of Germanic art. Though not so ideal in purely ritual-music
as his great contemporary, he displayed a greater fertility, a wider
sympathy, and a warmer human feeling. Proske’s estimate of him is
noteworthy: ‘Lassus is a universal genius.... No one resembles so
closely the great Handel, and, as in the latter, the German, Italian,
and English genius of the eighteenth century were found blended, so
in Lassus the entire glory of contemporary Germanic and Latin art was
commingled in a single mighty personality.’ (_Musica Divina_, Vol. I,
p. 52.)

Lassus was probably the most prolific composer of all time, having
left the enormous number of nearly 2,500 separate compositions. As
his master, Duke Albert, was a staunch and devout Catholic, by far
the larger part of his creative energy was expended in the field
of pure church-music, of which he wrote no less than 1,200 motets
and _sacræ cantiones_, 51 masses, about 180 Magnificats, and over
150 lamentations, psalms, hymns, Requiems, Ave Marias, antiphons,
etc. The most celebrated of his works and, according to Ambros,[28]
the only other work of the sixteenth century worthy to stand beside
Palestrina’s _Missa Papæ Marcelli_, are the ‘Penitential Psalms,’
which were composed at the duke’s suggestion prior to 1565, though
not published until 1584. The establishment of the date of their
composition definitely upsets the familiar legend that they were
written for Charles IX of France to solace his troubled conscience
after the horrors of the massacre of St. Bartholomew. It may well
be, however, that they were sung before this unhappy monarch, for
Lassus spent some time at the court of France at Charles’ invitation.
Lassus’ masterpiece, though written comparatively early in his career,
possesses in a marked degree all the qualities of strength, grandeur,
dignity, repose, and especially impersonality and absence of what
would now be called dramatic effects, that are the distinguishing
characteristics of the maturest period of ritual-music of the great
Netherlander and his Italian compeer, Palestrina. The ‘Penitential
Psalms’ (the 6th, 32d, 38th, 51st, 102d, 130th, and 143d) were set
for from two to six voices, according to the suggestion of the text,
and the style of expression varies from the extreme simplicity of the
opening chords to the massive and intricate tone-structures by means
of which he depicts the remorse and fear of the penitent sinner. But,
while a note of sorrow and wailing runs throughout, the master has with
equal genius portrayed the strong consolation of sincere repentance and
the sure hope of pardon from a loving God.

In all of Lassus’ works there is a noticeable breaking away from
the intricacies and complicated forms of Josquin and the older
Netherlanders in favor of a more direct and simple style. Secular music
may well have exerted an indirect influence to produce such a result,
but a more direct cause must be sought in the religious movements of
his period. Lassus, like Palestrina, was a man of strong and sincere
religious convictions. Zealous Catholics in Rome were seeking to reform
the abuses in ecclesiastical government and procedure that had started
the Reformation and given such astonishing strength to its progress.
The court at Munich, in which Lassus was such a prominent figure, was
the first in Europe to espouse the cause of this counter-reformation.
Simplicity of style and directness of expression were the natural
and logical consequences of the earnestness of purpose and religious
conviction that breathes in the music of both Lassus and Palestrina and
that sought to grasp the essential spirit of the Roman liturgy and body
it forth in vitalizing tones. Indeed, the tendency toward a simpler
and less ornate style was well under way before the Council of Trent
undertook to discuss the defects in the prevalent church style.

Of Lassus’ 1,200 compositions of the motet type 429 were called
_sacræ cantiones_, a term that is rather vague as to its inclusion
and exact application. The most famous of the motets is the masterly
_Gustate et Videte_, to which additional interest is attached from a
pretty story related by Heinrich Delmotte, one of the most reliable of
Lassus’ biographers, to the effect that, during the festival of Corpus
Christi in 1584, the singing of this motet, as the solemn procession
headed by the choir emerged from the church, caused the sun to shine
forth brightly in the midst of a terrific thunder-storm, permitting the
procession to traverse its accustomed course through the city. But when
the procession returned to the church and the singing ceased, the storm
burst forth again in all its fury. The multitude cried ‘A miracle,’ and
for many years thereafter the singing of this motet always accompanied
the offering up of prayers for fine weather. Though one might select
a score of his fine motets for special mention, three may be spoken
of here in addition to the _Gustate_, namely, _Dixit autem Maria_,
_Improperium expectabit cor meum_, and _Timor et Tremor_ in six parts,
replete with wonderful vocal effects. His simple, direct, and earnest
style is well set forth in the _Adoramus te Christe_, a short chorale
for four male voices, utterly devoid of contrapuntal artifice, yet
breathing a spirit of humble adoration that maintains throughout an
atmosphere of solemn tenderness. His motets were written for from two
to twelve voices and the masses for four and five voices.

But Lassus had an open heart also for secular inspiration. The genius
that could thrill us with the solemnity and pathos of religious
aspirations and sentiments was also moved to expression by the
pleasantries of human experience; no other composer of his century was
so prolific in humorous works. One is a setting of the Psalm _Super
flumina Babylonis_, in which the separate letters and syllables are
sung in the fashion of a spelling-lesson, ‘S-U--Su--P-E-R--per--Super,’
evidently parodying the ridiculous handling of words by the older
masters. It takes two movements of this comic procedure to get through
the first verse. In some of his German songs his humor rises to the
height of hilarious joy, though most of them are the expression of a
simple naïveté. In one of his Italian villanellas he makes a German
infantry captain sing a grotesque serenade to his lady-love. But he was
especially famous for his drinking songs, one of the most celebrated of
which was a setting of Walter Mapes’ convivial song _Si bene perpendi,
causæ sunt quinque bibendi_, to which Dean Aldrich has given the
following well-known translation:

      ‘If all be true that I do think,
      There are five reasons we should drink:
      Good wine, a friend, or being dry,
      Or lest you should be by and by,
      Or any other reason why.’

The remainder of his secular compositions comprise 233 madrigals,
34 Latin songs,[29] 370 French songs, and 59 canzonets, which
formidable list reveals him as a lyric writer of great versatility.
Notwithstanding his great fame during his lifetime and the succeeding
generation, the last half of the seventeenth century witnessed a great
decline in his popularity and his music fell into almost complete
oblivion, from which it has been happily rescued by the recent revival
of interest in the old masters and especially by the publication by
Breitkopf & Haertel of a complete edition of his works which will
comprise about sixty volumes.


                                   V

We are now face to face with one of the greatest geniuses of all
time, Palestrina,[30] or to give his real name, Giovanni Pierluigi
(1526-1594). Into his hands it was given not only to restore to Italy,
for a time at least, its leadership in the domain of musical art, but
also to carry to completion the magnificent structure of polyphonic
ecclesiastical music founded and fashioned into stately proportions
by the Netherlanders, and to utter the final words in the art of
unaccompanied vocal counterpoint. Thus the cycle of development in
Roman ritual-music was consummated on the very spot where just ten
centuries before it had found its first definite formulation under
the guiding hand of Gregory the Great and in perfect consonance with
the spirit and best traditions of the great liturgy around which
Christian worship had centred through all the intervening centuries,
until Luther’s momentous break with Rome had caused a deflection
in the current of religious thought. He summed up all the best
qualities in the art of his predecessors. He added nothing new to
its technique, but, child as he was of the land whose peculiar gift
is melody, he crowned this art with a radiant richness of melodious
charm and graceful movement which none of his masters could achieve.
Palestrina’s peculiar greatness seems to lie in the supreme fact that,
through a perfect sympathy with and understanding of the mysteries of
the Roman system of worship and through an unequalled mastery of the
Netherlanders’ art of contrapuntal expression, he was able to restore
music to its proper relation to the service as established by the Early
Church, a relation that had been lost by the incongruous and disturbing
intricacies of the musical forms which by their very elaborateness had
so overlaid the text as to render it unintelligible and thus obliterate
the religious significance of the words and warp the whole function
of music in the larger organism of the mass. This reform was brought
about by a return to the simpler methods of the ancient church. While
the musical world around him was teeming with signs of the new spirit
of impending change and progress, his genius, the richest of them
all, was satisfied to dwell within the sanctuary of tradition. While
all his contemporaries were facing forward, filled with the rapture
of discovery and innovation, ‘the Palestrina style belonged rather
to the mediæval world, with its emphasis upon monastic reveries and
contemplation.’[31] What has been termed ‘the Palestrina style’ had
existed before his time in isolated church compositions, but, since
his whole life was dedicated with singular fidelity and purity of
purpose to the development of an exalted and chaste style that would
perfectly reflect the inner spirit of the church ceremonies, his name
has become attached to a type which is peculiarly his. Its external
characteristics are the repudiation of mere intellectual cleverness,
the avoidance of secularity either in form or in spirit, and the
employment of an unaffected, indescribable simplicity of expression as
the best means of preserving the liturgic significance of the text and
enforcing the impressiveness of the music on the worshipper’s mind.
For its greatest effect this music must be heard in the particular
religious environment for which it was created. ‘No sensuous melodies,
no dissonant, tension-creating harmonies, no abrupt rhythms distract
the thoughts and excite the sensibilities. Chains of consonant chords
growing out of the combination of smoothly-flowing, closely-interwoven
parts, the contours of which are all but lost in the maze of tones,
lull the mind into that state of submission to indefinite impressions
which makes it susceptible to the mystic influence of the ceremonial
and turns it away from worldly things.’[32]

In analyzing music of this type it will be found that each
voice-part is equal in independence and importance with every other
voice-part; that the voices enter, intertwine, and drop out with
absolute freedom of movement; that one key is maintained throughout
the whole composition, with no modulations in the modern sense; that
the beginnings and endings of the melodic phrases usually occur at
different points in different voices, producing a constant shifting in
the rhythmical flux that baffles aural analysis and creates a feeling
of vagueness and indefiniteness of design. The changes in dynamics or
in speed are never startling or abrupt, but are accomplished through
almost imperceptible gradations. Furthermore, certain values entered
into the construction of these wonderfully plastic creations that were
almost wholly dependent upon a perfect understanding of purely vocal
effects. ‘The distribution of the components of a chord in order to
produce the greatest sonority; the alternation of the lower voices
with the higher; the elimination of voices as a section approached its
close, until the harmony was reduced at the last syllable to two higher
voices in _pianissimo_, as though the strain were vanishing into the
upper air; the resolution of tangled polyphony into a sunburst of open
golden chords; the subtle intrusion of veiled dissonances into the
fluent gleaming concord; the skillful blending of the vocal registers
for the production of exquisite contrasts of light and shade--these
and many other devices were employed for the attainment of delicate
and lustrous sound tints, with results to which modern chorus writing
affords no parallel.’[33]

It is quite characteristic of the inherent and unostentatious
greatness of Palestrina that the _Missa Papæ Marcelli_, the singing
of which before the Commission of Cardinals in the Sistine Chapel
on the nineteenth of June, 1565, caused this mass to be chosen as a
model in style and in structure of what all future music of the Roman
liturgy should be, was written several years before that event as an
ordinary item of routine loyalty in the service of the church which
he so devoutly loved.[34] It did not come into being, as has been
persistently proclaimed by legend and history,[35] at the request of
the Commission nor as a specific answer to the warning of the Council
of Trent that all figured or polyphonic music would be excluded from
the Roman service because of the current abuses. The name by which this
famous mass has been known was not given to it until 1567. The Pope
to whom it was dedicated, Marcellus II, had died in 1555, ten years
before fame and immortality had been accorded to this composition by
the award of the Cardinal Commission, but, though he had reigned only
twenty-three days, Palestrina did not forget his earnest efforts in
behalf of church-music while he was a Cardinal. This mass stands by
universal consent as an unrivalled monument to the piety, depth of
feeling, and intensity of expression, as well as the technical skill,
of its creator. All technical contrivances, the devices of fugue and
canon, are in complete subjection to the demands of expression, and
the listener is never for a moment conscious of the consummate art
with which the parts are fashioned. Its subjects are all original and
all are of great simplicity, but treated with infinite variety. It is
written for six voices--soprano, alto, two tenors of equal compass,
and two equal basses--which are so grouped as constantly to suggest
the effects of antiphonal choirs. Though an atmosphere of solemnity
pervades the whole, each movement has individual characterization.
Baini, Palestrina’s biographer, calls the Kyrie devout, the Gloria
animated, the Credo majestic, the Sanctus angelic, and the Agnus Dei
prayerful.

Palestrina wrote in all ninety-three masses for four, five, six,
and eight voices, many of them of surpassing beauty, but only a
comparatively few are sung outside the Sistine Chapel. The six-part
_Assumpta est Maria_, composed in 1585 for the Papal Choir, is
accounted by many critics to be even more beautiful than the celebrated
_Missa Papæ Marcelli_. It possesses all the fine qualities of the
latter and is certainly its equal. The _Missa Brevis_[36] was composed
upon subjects taken from the plain-song melody _Audi filia_, upon which
Goudimel had written a fine mass of earlier date. The mass _L’homme
armé_ is one of the very few of his church compositions into which he
introduced secular melodies. It is quite possible that he took this
means of demonstrating that he could excel the Netherlanders on their
own ground, for it is apparently conceived throughout in the Netherland
style and is tremendously difficult and elaborate.

Among the most superb of his church compositions must be named the
motets, of which 179 for from four to twelve voices appear in the
complete critical edition published by Breitkopf & Haertel in 33
volumes. Some of these are as unapproachable in their beauty as are
the masses which gave Palestrina his title of _Musicæ Princeps_. Among
the finest may be mentioned _Peccantem me quotidie_, filled with an
indescribable sweetness and tenderness of feeling, and _Super flumina
Babylonis_, written soon after the death of his wife Lucrezia, in
which can be detected the expression of the pathetic grief of ‘the
heart-broken composer mourning by the banks of the Tiber’ for his lost
wife. His other church compositions include 45 Hymns for the whole
year, 68 Offertories, and a large number of Lamentations, Magnificats,
Vesper-psalms, and Litanies. His setting of the _Stabat Mater_, for
which Dr. Burney had a boundless admiration, is one of the most
effective in existence and one of his most celebrated works. The fine
_Improperia_, which are still among the greatest treasures of the Papal
Choir, probably reflect the experiences of his inner life during the
anxious period following his dismissal from the Papal Choir by Paul
IV in 1555, when physical and mental ills attacked the over-sensitive
master.

The second half of the sixteenth century has been aptly called ‘The
Golden Age of Ecclesiastical Music.’ Further progress was impossible
along the line of vocal counterpoint brought to such astounding
perfection by Palestrina, yet the Palestrina style found zealous
imitators for a half-century at least after the passing of the great
Roman master. But the spirit of the Renaissance, now rampant in every
field of human thought, refused to be held in check by church doors,
and the glories of the ‘Golden Age,’ the products of an art rejoicing
in the full maturity of its power, were almost immediately followed
by a period of decadence, in which secular sentimentality was mingled
in strange fellowship with what remained of the majestic devotional
style of the old masters. The triumphant progress of secular music,
instrumental as well as operatic, soon broke down the opposition of
the ecclesiastical purists, and after Allegri the Palestrina style
practically disappeared. Gregorio Allegri (about 1580-1652) is
remembered now almost wholly by his celebrated _Miserere_ for nine
voices in two choirs, which is considered to be one of the finest
compositions ever conceived for the Roman service. Until recently
at least, it has been sung annually during Holy Week at the Sistine
Chapel, where it was prized as so rare a treasure that to copy it was
punishable with excommunication.[37] Up to the year 1770 only three
copies are known to have been legally made. In that year, it will be
recalled, the fourteen-year-old Mozart wrote it down with marvellous
accuracy from the memory of a single performance. Much of the ineffable
sadness of this piece, which, as it is performed in the Sistine Chapel,
has always aroused the unbounded enthusiasm of musicians, is said to
be due to certain traditional embellishments or florid passages which
were introduced in the form of elaborate four-part cadenzas to take the
place of the simple endings of some of the verses. Mendelssohn, in a
letter to Zelter during his Italian journey in 1831, described in great
detail the music of these beautiful _abbellimenti_. Of one of these he
says: ‘It is often repeated, and makes so deep an impression that when
it begins an evident excitement pervades all present.... The soprano
intones the high C in a pure, soft voice, allowing it to vibrate for a
time, and slowly gliding down, while the alto holds its C steadily, so
that at first I was under the delusion that the high C was still held
by the soprano. The skill, too, with which the harmony is gradually
developed is truly marvellous.’

It must not be supposed that Palestrina was the only great church
composer of his period. There were others during his lifetime and
immediately following, whose genius would have been proclaimed of
the first magnitude had it not been for the greater effulgence of
Palestrina’s. Giovanni Maria Nanino (about 1545-1607) ranks as second
only to Palestrina among the Italian church composers, as witness his
motet for six voices, _Hodie nobis cœlorum rex_, annually sung in the
Sistine Chapel on Christmas morning; his mass, _Vestiva i colli_, for
five voices; and particularly his Lamentations set in simple melodious
style for four male voices. His brother, Giovanni Bernardino Nanino
(about 1560-about 1618), wrote a remarkable _Salve Regina_ for twelve
voices in which the new spirit of striving for unusual effects is
noticeable. Viadana (about 1564-1645) introduced into church music
the _concerti ecclesiastici_, which were a kind of monodic chant or
song for from one to four voices with organ accompaniment indicated
by a _basso continuo_, or figured bass. Most of his church music,
however, was written in the old contrapuntal style. Following the
trend of the times, Francesco Soriano or Suriano (1549-about 1621)
permitted the dramatic style of the monodists to enter very perceptibly
into his ‘Passions for Holy Week,’ probably his best work. Among
the greatest of Palestrina’s contemporaries was Tomasso da Vittoria
(about 1540-about 1613), sometimes called ‘the Spanish Palestrina.’
His greatest masterpiece is the elaborate six-part Requiem Mass,
composed for the obsequies of the Empress Maria, widow of Maximilian
II. Next to Palestrina’s Mass for the Dead, this is the most important
and profoundly moving among the many settings of this office as pure
ritual-music. Its subjects are all taken from plain-song melodies, yet
it has an astonishingly modern quality, due to Vittoria’s employment of
powerful, sonorous chords and especially to a warmer and more direct
and personal mode of expressing his religious emotions than composers
of the polyphonic school were wont to assume. Palestrina’s religious
music is the music of a soul of immaculate purity, as though, to use
Ambros’ figure, his strains were messengers from a higher world;
Vittoria’s music was the responsive utterance of a saintly soul on
earth, struggling amid poignantly human emotions for a heavenly estate.
Among his other works, the _Improperia_ gained great renown for their
purity of church style and warmth and tenderness of expression.

Before leaving the field of church music of this period, something
must be said of the worthy rival to the Roman school that had sprung up
and flourished mightily in Venice. Here in the midst of the prosperity,
luxury, and splendor of this cultured ‘Queen of the Seas’ was a group
of earnest musicians who did not fear to loosen the bands of tradition
or to accept new ideals and venture on untrodden paths that led in new
directions; so that the products of the Venetian school, rather than
the Roman, formed the natural bridge between the mediæval and modern
conceptions of religious music. The masters of Venetian music, Willaert
and the two Gabrielis, seemed to borrow for their music something of
the brilliant coloring of the Venetian painters. Luxuriant harmonies,
massive and bold chord-effects, the employment of numerous chromatic
tones which assisted powerfully in changing the old modal system into
the modern key system, a desire for greater sonority and contrast in
color and expression--all these qualities, with their emphasis upon
individual characterization, opposed themselves strikingly to the
calmness, the delicacy, and the impersonality of the Palestrina style.
All the great Venetian masters occupied the post of chapel-master at
St. Mark’s, then one of the most important musical appointments in
Europe. The use of several choirs, which was introduced by Adrian
Willaert (about 1480-1562) and became a characteristic feature of
Venetian church music, owed its origin to the architectural structure
of this church, which contains two opposing choir lofts, each with
its own organ. Andrea and Giovanni Gabrieli added a third choir and
with this elaborate mechanism produced unprecedented choral effects by
ingenious groupings of voices, heard now as separate choirs, now in
answering alternation, now as selected voices from each choir, and now
in magnificent masses of tone. A twelve-part psalm, _Deus misereatur
nostri_, written by G. Gabrieli (1557-1612) for three choirs--one
consisting of deep voices, one of higher, and the third of the usual
four parts--is one of the most imposing examples of this type of
grandiose many-choired music. He is one of the few church composers
who have left no masses. His most famous work, two volumes of _Sacræ
Symphoniæ_, consisted of motets for from six to sixteen voices, to
which he added free accompaniments written for various combinations
of orchestral instruments with organ. In thus broadening the scope
of church music to include instrumental groupings and effects in
combination with voices, he stands as the pioneer of a dawning movement
fraught with greatest possibilities for the future development of both
ecclesiastical music and independent instrumental music. The chief work
of Andrea Gabrieli (1510-1586), uncle of Giovanni, was, according to
his own testimony, the six-part ‘Penitential Psalms,’ though this was
outdone in magnificence and tonal beauty by his many compositions for
several choirs. One of the most notable and popular of the Venetian
composers was Giovanni Croce (about 1560-1609), whose masses, written
in a style of noble simplicity, are still favorites with Catholic
church choirs.


                                   VI

The century which culminated in the ‘Golden Age of Ecclesiastical
Music’ was also the period of greatest glory for the madrigal. In the
first half of the century its leading exponents were Jacques Arcadelt
(about 1514-about 1555), Philippe Verdelot (dates of birth and death
unknown), Huberto Waelrant (about 1518-1595), and especially Adrian
Willaert (about 1480-1562), in the madrigals of all of whom there are
revealed a lucidity of style, a graceful melodic flow, and, when the
character of the words demanded, a simplicity of treatment, which
together constituted the true sixteenth-century madrigalian style.
Arcadelt, a Netherlander by birth and education, lived for many years
in Italy, where his madrigals became so popular that his First Book,
published in Venice in 1538, passed through sixteen editions in eighty
years, the first to win marked success. Though he wrote much church
music, his fame rests on his charming madrigals, only a few of which,
unfortunately, are accessible in modern form. Waelrant’s _Vorrei
morire_ (published with English words ‘Hard by a fountain,’ which,
however, have no relation to the Italian text) is a beautiful example
of this type. Orlandus Lassus was the last of the great Netherland
madrigalists and he left many books of splendid compositions in this
style.

In art-loving Venice an especially brilliant group of madrigalists
appeared who brought added renown and honor to this centre of culture
and learning. Adrian Willaert, one of the many gifted migratory
Netherlanders, was the first to make the Venetians acquainted with
this form, of distinctly northern origin, and its popularity quickly
spread all over Italy. Under Italian influences the severity of its
melodic outlines softened and it readily responded to the national
love of color and warmth. While Willaert can no longer be called the
‘Father of the Madrigal,’ he was one of the first strong writers in
the madrigal-form, and his transplantation of it from Flanders to
sunny Italy gave to it just the genial quality needed to bring it to
full maturity. He was especially influential in developing a freer
style and a taste for chromaticism. This tendency found strongest
accentuation in the ‘Chromatic Madrigals’[38] of Ciprian de Rore
(1516-1565). He published five books of these and, while many were
in the nature of experiments, they served to prepare the way for the
mastery of chromatic elements so conspicuous in later composers. His
madrigals, written in an original and genial style of great richness,
enjoyed enormous popularity. Giovanni Croce paid homage to the spirit
of the times in a notable collection of humorous part-songs (_Triaca
musicale_, _Capricci_) for from four to seven voices. The Gabrielis
were also generous contributors to the development of the madrigal,
which, in its adopted home in Italy, attained its fairest and most
luxuriant flowering.

The earliest of the Italians to achieve notable success in
madrigal-writing was the Roman, Constanzo Festa (died 1545). One
of his madrigals, ‘Down in a flowery vale’ (_Quando ritrovo la mia
pastorella_), attained the distinction of being for a long time
the most widely-known piece of its class in England. Palestrina
showed his supreme command over all styles by freeing the madrigal
from Flemish influences and contributing in goodly measure to the
literature of this fascinating form. Among them are many _madrigali
spirituali_--compositions midway in seriousness between the motet and
the light _chanson_, which aimed to bring into church music more of
the warmth and grace of the best secular music. In the new style of
madrigal-writing Palestrina was followed with splendid results by his
successor in office as ‘composer to the Papal Choir,’ Felice Anerio,
by Francesco Anerio, brother of the preceding, by the Naninis, and, in
particular, by Luca Marenzio (about 1560-1599), who devoted himself
especially to the advancement of secular art and whose madrigals were
of such captivating beauty and expressive power that he earned for
himself the title of ‘the sweetest swan of Italy.’ His reputation was
far-extended and his popularity[39] in England was so great that Dr.
Burney not only places him among the greatest of all madrigal writers,
but traces the passion for this form of secular music that spread over
England beginning about 1590, directly to the wide appreciation of his
highly-perfected madrigal style.

The madrigal was carried to Germany by Netherlanders and German
students of the Venetians, but it never succeeded in making much
headway against the national fondness for the folk-song (_Volkslied_),
from which it radically differed. Neither was it seriously valued in
France, although here the _chanson_ had long enjoyed great popularity
and had furnished the type from which the early Flemish madrigals
were evolved. English soil, however, was especially favorable to its
development, and it was no sooner transplanted thither from Italy
and Flanders than it took deep root and flourished with a luxuriance
that did not lose its splendor beside the best works of Rome or
Venice. Richard Edwards (1523-1566) and William Byrd (1543-1623),
the latter the greatest English composer of the sixteenth century,
had both written polyphonic secular songs of the madrigal type that
had achieved wide fame, but the national love of part-songs received
an extraordinary stimulus from the publication in 1588 of _Musica
Transalpina_,[40] a collection of over fifty madrigals selected from
the best Flemish and Italian composers of the time and adapted to
English words. These were received with such astonishing favor that
the madrigal at once leaped into the importance almost of a national
institution, fostered by a numerous school of composers who devoted
themselves almost wholly to perfecting it. All the best English
composers delighted in producing madrigals in countless profusion.
Between the years of 1590 and 1630 no less than 2,000 pieces in this
form were published, so that at the beginning of the seventeenth
century the madrigal stands out as the clearest expression of the
contemporary English national taste, the favorite of composers and
public alike. The flowering period of the English madrigal was the
first two decades of the seventeenth century, when a truly brilliant
galaxy of native composers developed characteristics that distinguish
it quite clearly from its continental relatives and place it on a
secure vantage-ground where it need fear no rival. In delicacy,
simplicity, and a delicious naïveté, some of the English madrigals of
this period are unapproachable. During the Elizabethan era English
church-music reached a high standard, but it sounds restrained and
almost perfunctory beside the joyous, fresh, spontaneous flow of these
madrigals.

Chief in importance among the English madrigalists was Thomas Morley
(1557-about 1602), whose music revels in irrepressible cheerfulness
and sweet tunefulness. He showed an especial fondness for the light
canzonets and ballets, or fa-las, in which latter form, introduced by
him into England, he is unrivalled. His contemporary, John Dowland
(1563-1626), was equally successful in his canzonets and ‘Songes or
Ayres of foure parts.’ But the inspired pieces of John Wilbye (dates
of birth and death unknown) are universally considered to be the
best representatives of the English madrigal in its purest and most
characteristic and comprehensive form. Other great masters of this
form were George Kirbye (died 1634), Thomas Weelkes (about 1575-1623),
John Bennet (dates unknown), Michael Este (dates unknown), Thomas
Ravenscroft (about 1582-about 1635), and Orlando Gibbons (1583-1625).
There can be no doubt that the splendor of this era of madrigal-writing
was made more lustrous by the sympathetic interest taken in this
popular form by many of the best poets of the brilliant Elizabethan
period. The works of many of the inspired makers of these sweet old
melodies are still sung with delight and dearly prized by the numerous
choral societies and clubs that zealously cultivate unaccompanied
vocal part-music. Since madrigal-writing has experienced somewhat of
a revival in recent years, it will be of interest to enumerate some
of the most beautiful and most famous of these old compositions which
still retain an imperishable charm and undying appeal. Among such will
be found the following: Dowland’s ‘Awake, sweet Love,’ ‘Come again,’
and ‘Now, oh! now, I needs must part’; Weelkes’ ‘In pride of May,’
‘The Nightingale,’ and the bold ‘Like two proud armies’; Wilbye’s ‘The
Lady Oriana’ (in praise of Queen Elizabeth), ‘Flora gave me fairest
flowers,’ ‘Lady, when I behold,’ ‘Down in a valley,’ ‘Draw on, sweet
Night,’ and ‘But Sweet take heed’; and Bateson’s ‘In Heaven lives
Oriana.’

Some of the English madrigalists of this period, as Edwards and
Gibbons, were close kin to the Netherlanders in style and feeling. Many
of the madrigals of Byrd, Weelkes, Wilbye, and Kirbye are elaborate in
design and display ingenious and delightful imitation, but in general
there is discoverable a clear tendency to discard the burdensome rules
of ecclesiastical writing. With the development of this tendency the
passing of the madrigal proper began, for the prime essentials of
a true madrigal, no matter what it may be called, are that it must
conform to the general feeling of some ecclesiastical mode and must
be written in accordance with contrapuntal procedure. Without these
qualities the madrigal flavor is lost. After 1620 it began to merge
into the simpler and lighter glee and part-song, which forms will be
considered in Chapter IV.


                              FOOTNOTES:

[14] Dickinson, ‘Music in the History of the Western Church,’ p. 83.

[15] The largest contributions to the mass were made by the Eastern
Church during the first four centuries and were translated into Latin
by the Church of Rome.

[16] From the Latin _missa_ in the sentence, _Ite, missa est_ (‘Depart,
the assembly is dismissed’), sung by the deacon immediately before the
close of the service.

[17] The practice of thus displacing the authorized Gregorian chants
with folk-songs was inaugurated by Dufay. In three of his four-part
masses, preserved in the archives of the Papal Choir, the subjects are
all borrowed from popular songs, with the secular words accompanying
them--among them being _L’homme armé_.

[18] Weinmann, ‘History of Church Music,’ p. 85.

[19] Parry, ‘The Evolution of the Art of Music,’ p. 103.

[20] Tournay was one of the chief musical centres of the Gallo-Belgic
period and its cathedral possessed a body of choristers trained to the
highest point of efficiency then known to the vocal art.

[21] Naumann, ‘The History of Music’ (Eng. trans.), Vol. I, p. 325.

[22] Kiesewetter, ‘The History of Music,’ p. 131.

[23] Mendelssohn wrote a similar part for Hensel in his ‘Son and
Stranger.’

[24] The origin of the word is veiled in much obscurity, which has been
increased in large measure by the varied spellings adopted by early
writers (_motetum_, _motectum_, _motellus_, _motulus_, _mutetus_).

[25] These three classes comprised (1) those forms in which all
voice-parts had the same words, as the _Cantilena_, the _Rondel_ or
_Rota_, the _Organum communiter sumptum_; (2) those in which each part
had its own special words, as the _Motet_; and (3) those in which some
parts had words and others merely vocalized, as _Hoquet_ or _Ochetus_,
the _Conductus_, and _Organum purum vel proprie sumptum_. _Organum
purum_ was the oldest form and was held in great reverence by the
earliest writers.

[26] Thus in _Salvatoris mater_, an old three-part Latin motet,
probably of the first half of the fifteenth century, by the Englishman,
Thomas Damett, quoted in the ‘Oxford History of Music,’ Vol. II, p.
149, the texts of the two upper parts are prayers to the Virgin and to
St. George in behalf of King Henry VI, while the lowest part sings the
_Benedictus_.

[27] His _Ars compositionis de Motetis_, preserved in the Paris
library, is supposed to have been written between 1290 and 1310.

[28] _Geschichte der Musik_, Vol. III, p. 353.

[29] All of these were part-songs of the _chanson_ and madrigal type.

[30] So called from the name of his birthplace, a small town southeast
of Rome, the ancient Præneste.

[31] Waldo S. Pratt, ‘History of Music,’ p. 124.

[32] Arthur Mees, ‘Choirs and Choral Music,’ p. 62.

[33] Edward Dickinson, ‘Music in the History of the Western Church,’ p.
167.

[34] He was then _Maestro di Cappella_ of Santa Maria Maggiore.

[35] A full and authoritative discussion of the facts and fables
associated with this mass, based on researches in the archives, will
be found in F. X. Haberl’s _Die Kardinal-Kommission von 1564 und
Palestrina’s Missa Papæ Marcelli_.

[36] _Missa Brevis_ was a name given to a mass of moderate length and
not intended for festival occasions of great solemnity.

[37] It was published for the first time with the Pope’s permission by
Dr. Burney. It is given in almost complete form in Grove’s ‘Dictionary
of Music and Musicians,’ Art. ‘Miserere.’

[38] The most famous of these, set to Petrarch’s _Vergini_, have in
recent years been published by Breitkopf and Haertel.

[39] Of the 57 madrigals in _Musica Transalpina_, published in London
in 1588, ten were by him, and of the twenty-eight numbers in Watson’s
‘Italian Madrigals Englished,’ published in 1590, twenty-three were
from his pen.

[40] Rockstro avers that the word ‘madrigal’ appears for the first
time in England in the preface to this volume.




                               CHAPTER III

             THE FIRST CENTURY OF PROTESTANT CHURCH MUSIC

     Martin Luther; the chorale as the nucleus of German
     Protestant church music--Early Reformation composers:
     Walther, Eccard, Prætorius; influence of church choir schools
     in Germany during the Reformation period--English Protestant
     music, music of the Anglican liturgy: the anthem, its early
     history and style--The spread of congregational song; psalms
     and hymns.


                                   I

Christian art in its general outlines has followed upon the heels of
Christian thought and doctrine with the fidelity and persistence of
a shadow. Ever since it first learned definite articulation, it has
responded with childlike obedience to the varying conditions which
the church has experienced in its endeavors to win and to hold the
allegiance of humanity to its spiritual leadership. Music, the youngest
of the arts, strikingly illustrates this attitude of dependence.
Consequent on the doctrine of the universality of the church, a marked
sameness and uniformity existed in the ritual-music of French, Italian,
Spanish, German, and English church composers, as long as the supremacy
of the church was undisputed. This absence of variation in style,
form, and expression, this suppression of national and individual
characteristics, was the natural manifestation of the doctrine of the
complete surrender of the individual, which governed all his relations
to the church. The workings of the forces of humanistic thought in the
sixteenth century brought about some deviations, even in sacred music,
from this uniform mode of expression, and in Italy we can easily find
points of differentiation between the music of Venetian, Roman, and
Neapolitan composers, though all were loyal adherents of the same faith.

But when Luther struck the mighty blow at the spiritual and political
power of Rome which loosened a large part of northern Europe from
its grasp and changed the whole current of the world’s religious
thought, it was quite natural that there was a resounding echo in the
musical methods and forms of expression that accompanied the manifold
developments of this new religious movement. In the discussion of this
movement as it relates to the subject in hand, two facts need constant
reaffirmation--(1) that even before Luther’s time there had been many
evidences of the impending change in religious thought, evidences that
run back with more or less frequency even to the Middle Ages,[41] and
(2) that Luther was first of all a reformer, not a destroyer, of the
ancient church and her modes of worship. For a full understanding of
the music of the Reformation it must be kept in mind that the doctrinal
points back of Luther’s revolt included the denial of the mediatorial
function of the priest, the declaration of the universal priesthood of
believers, and the stout insistence on the inalienable right of the
individual believer not only to freedom of reason and conscience, but
to direct access in prayer to Deity at all times. The whole character
and color of Protestant music is derived from this recognition of the
individual, and his duties and privileges in the direct worship of
God. This freer, more spontaneous and democratic conception of worship
threw the emphasis upon the congregation, and Luther’s form of public
worship was built up around this central fact. The two changes most
responsive to this new conception were the substitution of the people’s
vernacular for Latin as the official language of the service[42]
and the restoration to the people of the office of song, which had
been withdrawn from them at the very beginning of the development
of elaborate liturgic forms. This newly-found liturgic use for the
people’s song caused a prompt development of the singularly rich and
impressive hymnody of the early German Protestant Church and Luther, in
the order of services which he prepared for the Wittenberg churches in
1526 (the _Deutsche Messe_), gave especial prominence to this element.

Luther’s fervent desire was to bring all elements of the church
service within the comprehension of the whole congregation; it was to
be a people’s service. The congregational hymns, so conspicuous in his
scheme of public worship, were not only sung in the mother-tongue,
but many of them were sung to melodies whose origin was equally close
and dear to the people’s heart. Luther was the founder of German
Protestant hymnody (though not of German hymnody, as we shall see), and
in furnishing tunes to the multitude of hymns which he and his helpers
wrote, translated, or adapted, to give voice to the new religious
aspirations and ideals of the Protestant faith, recourse was had to two
popular sources, the rich treasury of religious folk-song that had been
in existence for centuries[43] and contemporary secular folk-song of
the more noble and sedate type. In thus transferring the familiar and
beloved melodies of home and social life to the use of the sanctuary,
an intimate and personal relation of the congregation to the church
service was established that was wholly lacking in the old church
associations. A third source of Luther’s melodies was Gregorian chant
and the stately Catholic hymns. Many of the melodies were original, and
this was more and more the case as time went on, but the musician of
this period, as has been pointed out in the discussion of Netherland
music, was thoroughly accustomed to borrowing his melodies (subjects)
either from popular song or plain-song. The name ‘chorale’ was soon
given to these hymn-melodies, from whatever source they were derived,
and the chorale, from its importance in the Lutheran liturgy, promptly
became the nucleus of the whole Lutheran musical system, in exactly
the same sense that plain-song was of the Roman musical system. Its
close relation to the sturdy folk-song gave to the chorale and to the
entire literature of religious music evolved from it a virility and
vitality that made it, of all the artistic products of the sixteenth
and seventeenth centuries, alone comparable with the superb creations
of Palestrina and his school. The origin of probably more than half of
the melodies of the Lutheran chorale-books may be traced to folk-songs
of some kind or period. Moreover, in wedding his hymns to music Luther
was careful to provide strongly rhythmical melodies, which naturally
made a more lively appeal to the people than did the unrhythmical Latin
music of the Roman service, a fact whose significance has been largely
overlooked by historians. The militant and assertive ring of many of
the early chorales, contrasting strongly with the calm, contemplative
mood of so many of the Catholic hymns, finds at least partial
explanation in this fact.

The place of Luther in German religious music is quite easy
to estimate now, though it has required over three centuries to
disentangle the great reformer’s actual achievement in this field
from the gross exaggerations and inaccuracies of partisan bias in
both attack and defence. But if it now seems to be well established
that Luther actually composed only a few[44] of the 137 melodies once
attributed to him, and that only five of the thirty-six hymns which he
wrote are entirely original, this does not detract one whit from his
greatness or his wisdom as a leader in pointing musical aspirations in
a new direction, for his real significance in German music, whether he
composed melodies or not, lies, not in new forms, but in the new spirit
that he gave to his followers and infused into sacred music. He had no
thought of breaking with the past. In preserving intact the line of
continuity, he was wise enough to retain many forms and practices in
the old Church that he regarded as vital and permanent and to build
them firmly into the structure of his new liturgy. Realizing the
importance of having an abundance of hymns for his followers, Luther
once said to Spalatin, ‘We are looking everywhere for poets,’ and in a
short time his wish was more than realized in the thousands of original
hymns that were poured forth. But in addition to these he and his
collaborators did not hesitate to look in other directions. As he had
freely utilized existing material for his hymn-melodies, so he borrowed
liberally from the magnificent store of religious poetry that had
gradually accumulated during the centuries. The principal sources thus
drawn upon were (1) old Latin hymns which were translated and modified
(as _Verleih uns Frieden gnädiglich_ from _Da pacem Domine_, a sixth-or
seventh-century antiphon; _Der du bist drei_ from _O Lux beata_, a
fifth-century Epiphany hymn; and _Herr Gott, dich loben wir_ from the
_Te Deum_); (2) early German translations of Latin hymns which were
amplified; (3) early German hymns which were corrected or arranged; and
(4) Latin Psalms and other Biblical passages which were translated and
paraphrased in metrical German verse. A fifth and prolific source must
not be overlooked--secular songs, favorite songs of love and praise of
Nature, which were recast into religious hymns by the simple device of
altering a few words or lines.


          [Illustration: Luther in the Circle of His Family]
              _After the painting by E. Spangenberg_


The importance of music in the Lutheran service was greatly enhanced
by Luther’s relentless war on the worship of images and pictures. The
arts of painting and sculpture practically disappeared from the church
edifices or were put under almost prohibitive restrictions. Music thus
became almost the sole artistic accessory to religion in the service
of the Reformed Church. But in music Luther recognized that there was
no real conflict between Protestant and Catholic ideals; hence he
retained the principal features of the musical system of the ancient
Church, and readjusted them in accordance with his altered conception
of worship. We have observed how he exalted the German hymn, which
had existed in pre-Reformation times only as an occasional religious
utterance and then always in extra-liturgical services, to a place
of chief importance in congregational worship. In his enthusiasm for
congregational song, however, there was no antagonism to the choir;
on the contrary, he made ample provision for it and urged every
encouragement of the use of contrapuntal music. Luther introduced
only one real innovation into his musical system--the congregational
chorale; for the rest it was based squarely on existing methods,
adopting with no essential changes the three chief features of the
Roman system: (1) the principles of the old polyphony as developed
by the Netherlanders and Italians; (2) the use of borrowed subjects
(_canti firmi_) as the basis of the church polyphony, the subjects
being taken from chorales, however, instead of from plain-song as in
the Roman system; and (3) a few Gregorian melodies and priestly chants
for certain parts of the service. Until the church-cantata developed as
a distinguishing feature under Bach’s guiding hands, the motet, with
Latin or German words and identical in form and style with the motet
of the old Church, was the chief representative of contrapuntal vocal
music in the Reformed Church. The important place which contrapuntal
organ music occupied in the service will be treated in the chapter in
which the early organ masters are discussed.

The first result of Luther’s efforts to bring about a reform in the
liturgy was the _Formula Missæ_ of 1523. In reality this was simply an
abridged form of the Roman Mass and was intended only as a temporary
expedient; everything repugnant to the fundamental principles of
the new faith was omitted, but Latin was retained as the language
of worship. In the _Deutsche Messe_ of 1526 he completed his long
contemplated and carefully thought out revision of the liturgy, in
which the process of simplification was carried still further and the
mother-tongue substituted for Latin in nearly all the offices.

Two years before this (1524) he had published the first Protestant
hymn-book (_Geystliche Gesangk Buchleyn_, for four voices), with the
assistance of his friend and musical adviser, Johann Walther. In 1525
Walther published another and larger one, with a preface by Luther.
Chorale-books now multiplied with such astonishing rapidity that at
the time of Luther’s death in 1546 there were no less than sixty
collections in use, including the various editions. The very first
hymn-melodies sung by the congregation were not harmonized at all. Soon
simple contrapuntal settings were given to these melodies, and in all
the early chorale-books the melody, following the contemporary usage
in contrapuntal writing, was placed in the tenor, the congregation
singing it in unison while the choir supplied the contrapuntal
parts. But by the end of the sixteenth century harmonic feeling had
progressed far enough to permit the melody to pass to the treble,[45]
where it naturally belonged in the people’s song. Henceforth it is
generally found there, supported by solid chord-movement, and its early
contrapuntal character becomes transformed into a simpler harmonic
style. The development of the organ in Germany during the closing
decades of the sixteenth century made it possible for this instrument
to take the place of the choir as an accompaniment to the unison
congregational song, the choir after 1600 finding ample scope for its
powers in the elaborate motet.

The brutal devastation of the Thirty Years’ War was followed by a
weakening of religious faith and vigor, and after the middle of the
seventeenth century interest in the chorale waned and the steady stream
of chorales slackened and soon came to a full stop. The sturdy militant
enthusiasm of the early years of the Reformation was superseded by
religious apathy which had a corresponding influence on church music.
The rhythmical freedom and variety of the early chorales gradually
disappeared and their vigorous character became tamed down to the type
as now sung, in which the tones of the melody assumed a uniform length.
While this style is undoubtedly dignified and imposing, it represents a
distinct loss of energy and vigor, as compared with the original free
form. But the chorale had already passed into the larger arteries of
German secular art-music, and here its tremendous powers of stimulation
were no longer dependent on the spiritual pulse of the church.

The historical importance of the chorale can scarcely be
overestimated. Musically speaking, it forms the basis of a large and
significant portion of the literature of German music, both vocal and
instrumental; religiously speaking, it was the effective instrument
through which the intensely devout faith of the German people found
its readiest and most expressive voice for their emotions of joy and
thanksgiving in the newly-found office of direct communion with God;
politically speaking, it was recognized by friend and foe alike as
the most powerful agency for the spread of the new doctrines. Whole
towns were said to have been won over to Protestantism by Luther’s
hymns. An irate priest exclaimed: ‘Luther’s songs have damned more
souls than all his books and speeches.’ Furthermore, the Protestant
hymn exercised an immediate and wholesome influence on the Roman
Catholic hymn. Realizing the popularity and devotional value of
the Lutheran hymn-singing, the Catholic authorities reversed their
traditional attitude toward the congregational hymn and strove to stem
the inroads made by this alluring propaganda on their congregations by
providing hymn-books of their own in the language of the people. The
first German Catholic collection (_Ein New Gesangbüchlin Geystlicher
Lieder_) appeared in 1537 in Leipzig, the work of the Dominican monk,
Michael Vehe, of Halle. It contained fifty-two hymns and forty-seven
melodies, many of which, in altered form, were borrowed from the
Protestant hymn-books, as Luther had borrowed from the best Catholic
hymns. Thus these religious opponents sought to square musical accounts
by freely appropriating each other’s treasures of sacred song. The
second Catholic hymn-book (_Geistliche Lieder und Psalmen_) did not
appear until 1567. It was edited by Johann Leisentrit of Bautzen and
comprised 147 melodies and 250 texts, among which were no less than
sixty-six hymns by Protestant poets, four, indeed, by Luther himself!
Thereafter similar hymn-books multiplied rapidly, and the history
of the development and subsequent decline of the Catholic German
hymn coincides quite largely with that of the Lutheran hymn and with
nearly the same contributing causes, political and religious. It is
of interest to note that about 1600 the hymn found its way for a time
even into the office of the Holy Mass. In the eighteenth century the
Catholic hymn sank back into its pre-Reformation status of unimportance
in public worship, but retained its position in the parochial schools,
where it was permanently placed early in the seventeenth century.


                                   II

Just as a veritable swarm of religious poets had responded to
Luther’s Macedonian call for hymn-writers, so there soon appeared
among his followers a numerous array of musicians, eager and competent
to furnish the music for the new service. Johann Walther (1496-1570)
was one of the first composers in the Reformed Church--first in
importance as well as chronologically. Luther had summoned him to
Wittenberg in 1524 to assist him in arranging the musical part
of the German Mass, and, as already mentioned, he played a most
important part in arranging and editing the first chorale-books. He
was the first[46] to harmonize the hymn-melodies after the manner
of secular part-songs, that is, in simple four-part harmony, note
against note, which form has characterized the congregational hymn
since his time. He was the composer of many well-known chorales and
motets, and there are a few historians who even attribute to him the
authorship of the melody of the famous _Ein’ feste Burg_. Johann
Eccard (1553-1611), a prominent pupil of Orlandus Lassus, appeared
soon enough after Luther’s passing to be under the direct influence
of the great reformer. He enjoyed great popularity on account of his
simple and graceful part-songs, chorales, and motets. His chief work
was _Geistliche Lieder_ (‘A Collection of Fifty-five Sacred Melodies
for Feast-days and Holy-days’). Another important work was _Preussische
Fest-lieder_ (‘Prussian Festival Songs for the Whole Year’) for five
to eight voices. These were somewhat in the nature of a new form,
occupying a place midway in simplicity between the chorale and the
motet--akin to the chorale in having the melody in the highest part
and possessing a certain folk-song flavor, and approaching the motet
in having the melody contrapuntally dependent on the other parts and
therefore not to be sung alone. Michael Prætorius (1571-1621) was a
prolific writer of motets, psalms, chorales, and choir-pieces, some of
the last-named being compositions for several choirs in the Venetian
style for as many as thirty voices. From 1605 to 1610 he issued his
_Musæ Sioniæ_, a huge collection of sacred part-songs, including many
of his own, in sixteen volumes, five with Latin words, the remainder
with German. The name of Johann Crüger (1598-1662) is inseparably
connected with Lutheran church-song. He was one of the last great
composers of chorales--and one of the most prolific--and is remembered
now chiefly for the large number of these chorales that have remained
favorites during all the intervening years. Among the best-known are
_Nun danket alle Gott_; _Jesu meine Zuversicht_; _Schmücke dich, O
liebe Seele_; and _Jesu meine Freude_. Most of his chorales were
written in the rhythmically regular and subdued form which later was
accepted as the modern idea of the chorale. Other Protestant composers
who gained distinction as writers of Lutheran church-music before
Bach were Joachim von Burck or Moller (1541-1610), celebrated for his
_Odæ sacræ_ or part-songs; Bartholomäus Gesius (about 1555-1613);
Melchior Franck (about 1573-1639); Hermann Schein (1586-1630), known
chiefly by his _Cantional_, published in 1627, consisting of over
200 chorale-melodies, inclusive of about 80 original ones, which he
harmonized, mostly note against note, retaining the old irregular
rhythm of the earliest chorale melodies; and Andreas Hammerschmidt
(1612-1675), who, in his _Musikalische Andachten_ (‘Musical Devotions’)
in five volumes and ‘Dialogues between God and a Faithful Soul’ in two
volumes, pointed to a new and freer style in sacred composition and
made a deep impression on contemporary music of the Lutheran service.
With Heinrich Schütz, who will be discussed in a succeeding chapter,
Hammerschmidt constitutes the important connecting link between the
sixteenth-century ecclesiastical style and the perfected forms of
Sebastian Bach.

In retaining the trained choir for the performance of the more
elaborate choral music of the service, Luther was forced to make
special provision for the education of the choristers, for with
the Reformation came the suppression of the abbeys and monasteries
that formerly had been the chief supporters of the choir-schools,
and the complete transformation of the choristers from their former
semi-clerical to a laic status. As early as 1524 he had aroused
Protestant Germany to the imperative need of public education as the
only means of securing the success and permanence of Protestant ideals,
by addressing a stirring appeal to the councilors of German cities. In
all Protestant centres schools were founded and actively maintained
by municipal, private, and parochial endowment. Music was an integral
part of Luther’s scheme of public education, and in connection with
the larger institutions he urged the appointment of precentors or
cantors[47] who should have charge of the training of the choristers
and the selection and singing of the church music. These precentorships
became a powerful element in the development of Protestant sacred music
and in the diffusion of choral culture. The most famous one was that
of the _Thomasschule_ or School of St. Thomas in Leipzig, where a long
line of illustrious musicians from Schein, Kuhnau, and Sebastian Bach
down to Moritz Hauptmann, E. F. Richter, and Wilhelm Rust (died 1892)
enjoyed brilliant careers as cantors. Here a choir of about sixty boys
served four churches--St. Thomas, St. Nicholas, St. Peter, and the
New-Church. The lay character of the choirs and the close relation
between the religious life of the church and the home aided greatly in
the general movement of popular musical education.

Another influential factor in the spread of choral culture was the
wandering choirs, or _currendi_. The ancient custom of pupils from the
monastic schools going about town on certain festival days and singing
for alms was utilized in the Reformation period for the twofold purpose
of spreading the new doctrines and strengthening the popular love of
sacred song. The members of these _currendi_ belonged to the lower
grades of the parochial and cathedral schools, and to them was assigned
the duty of singing choral responses and chorales in the service.
On week-days they passed from house to house singing canticles, and
soon became so much of a public institution that their services were
in demand, at a small fee, for all sorts of home and semi-religious
occasions, such as birthdays, weddings, and baptisms. The older members
of the choirs were recruited in the higher or Latin schools from the
_alumni_ or boys who were given a home in the school buildings and who
in return obligated themselves to serve in the church choir and church
orchestra. They received the best vocal and instrumental instruction
and were therefore well equipped to perform the florid and difficult
music of the polyphonic masters. The interest of these choristers
in choral music continued after their connection with the choirs as
_alumni_ and _currendani_ (members of the _currendi_) had ceased,
and, as students in seminaries and universities or as plain citizens,
they exerted a wide influence on choral music either by individually
supplementing the local choirs or by establishing choruses which were
independent of the churches but which were used to augment the choirs
on important church festivals.


                                   III

While the remarkable fermentation caused by Luther’s doctrines was
working such significant readjustments in the religious, intellectual,
and artistic life of Germany, with echoing responses in adjacent
continental countries, a similar movement of revolt and reconstruction
gathered headway in England, generated by the same fundamental causes
but starting some years later, and resulting in a complete separation
from Rome and in the establishment of the Church of England. But the
Anglican Church, like the Lutheran Church, did not stand upon a wholly
independent basis of its own. Both proclaimed themselves purifiers and
reformers, not destroyers, of the ancient church, hence both retained
a large portion of the liturgy of the parent church from which they
revolted. The Reformation in England, however, developed along quite
different lines from Luther’s energetic movement in Germany. On the
continent the revolt from Rome was from first to last a religious
movement; in England its first outward manifestation was political.
The incentive which led Henry VIII to break with Pope Clement VII was
not an unalterable religious conviction such as buttressed Luther at
the Diet of Worms, but was personal pique at the refusal of the Pope
to recognize the validity of his marriage with Anne Boleyn. In the
Act of Supremacy of 1534 the King and his successors were declared to
be ‘protector and supreme head on earth of the church and clergy of
England,’ but no doctrinal changes were involved and the immediate
result was merely a change in the name of the church. Yet Henry’s
secession soon had the result of forming a distinct line of cleavage
for those who had been secretly sympathizing with the religious ideals
of Luther and Zwingli on the continent and in whose Anglo-Saxon hearts
the right to independent thought and a liberated reason was deeply
cherished.

The real reconstruction of the liturgy for the new national Church in
conformity to fundamental Protestant doctrine began under Edward VI,
who authorized two forms of the Book of Common Prayer in succession
(1549 and 1552). In 1559 Elizabeth authorized a third form, which
remained in use for over a century. The revision of the Book of Common
Prayer in 1662 under Charles II practically completed the restatement
of doctrine begun by Edward VI.

The entire ritual of the Church of England is contained in this Book of
Common Prayer, and, as far as the ordinary congregational worship is
concerned, is divided into Matins and Evensong (or Morning Prayer and
Evening Prayer) and the office of Holy Communion. The ritual-music in
all three consists of chants, hymns, anthems, and certain free musical
settings of the canticles and other constant portions of the liturgy
technically called ‘services.’ In all matters of style and construction
the ‘service’ has closely followed the development of the anthem, the
early stages of which we shall now trace.

The anthem was recognized as a regular part of divine service early
in Elizabeth’s reign, but the word was not actually used in the Prayer
Book until the revision of 1662, which simply states after the third
collect, ‘In quires and places where they sing here followeth the
anthem.’ A few years after Elizabeth issued the ‘Injunctions’ granting
permission to use ‘a hymn or such like song in churches,’ the word
anthem appears in the second edition of Day’s choral collection,
entitled ‘Certain Notes set forth in four and five Parts to be sung
at the Morning and Evening Prayer and Communion.’ The high place
that church music has occupied in the thought of English musicians
is amply evidenced by the fact that practically every composer that
England has produced has given his most serious efforts to this form.
The actual output of anthems has been enormous; and, while it may be
said with much truth that the qualities of pedantry and dryness are
too much in evidence to permit the use of the terms ‘inspiring’ or
‘inspired’ for the bulk of them, it may be maintained with equal truth
that in no other class of church music, except the mighty individual
contributions of Palestrina and Bach, has the element of secularity
been so rigorously excluded as in the English anthem and its allied
forms. While the religious music of Protestant Germany and Catholic
Italy and France suffered a lamentable relapse in the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries under the insinuating influence of the operatic
style, the music of the English cathedral service maintained on the
whole a serenity and certain austerity of style entirely consistent
with ecclesiastical ideals and dignity. The best examples of this
style--and they are numerous--give to the music of the Anglican Church
an honorable place in the literature of the worship music of the four
great historic branches of the church universal, notwithstanding its
average mediocrity and the absence of really great names among English
church composers.

The anthem is the culminating point of the ritual-music of the
Anglican Church, as the cantata was of the early Lutheran Church. In
its more extended form it has much the same general musical structure
as the cantata, comprising choruses, solos, duets, etc., but it has
never attained the large dimensions of its German analogue. Like the
church cantata, it made use of the vernacular from the beginning,
and, thus established on the basis of a direct verbal appeal to the
congregation, it in time evolved a musical type of its own, clearly
differentiated from other distinctive types of church-music and
embodying the essential qualities of the church from whose innermost
being it blossomed.

The word ‘anthem’ (from the Greek _Antiphona_, through the changing
forms, _antefne_, _antem_, _anthem_) naturally suggests the idea of
antiphonal or responsive music, and it originally had this application,
but not since the restriction of its use to a specific and distinctive
form of church music. Its text is usually taken from the Psalms or
other portions of the Bible, or from the liturgy. The anthem has never
been a real part of the liturgy in the same sense as musical portions
of the ‘service,’ for its words have never been authoritatively
prescribed for the various days of the church calendar, a wide latitude
being allowed in this respect.

Four kinds of anthems are recognized and named according to the vocal
forces employed in performance. They are called ‘full’ when written
for chorus throughout; ‘verse’ when written for chorus and various
groupings of solo voices, the chorus being of secondary importance;
‘solo’ when written for chorus and one solo voice; and ‘double’ when
written for a double choir singing antiphonally. The ‘full’ anthem
is the natural successor to the earlier Latin motet; the ‘verse’ and
‘solo’ anthems clearly show the influence of Italian solo-forms applied
to the problems of church-music. The utmost freedom of form is now
permitted in the anthem and its dimensions vary from those of a simple
hymn-tune to extended compositions in several movements constructed
with elaborate contrapuntal skill and employing independent organ, and
sometimes orchestral, accompaniment. In this larger form it approaches
closely the character of the cantata, although not so individualized in
its parts.

The earliest anthems date from the beginning of Elizabeth’s long reign
(1558-1603) and the cultivation of this form has gone on from this
period in unbroken continuity, save for the brief ascendency of Puritan
ideals during the Commonwealth. The literature of Anglican Church music
divides itself into four periods of quite distinctive characteristics:

       I. (1550-1660) in the contrapuntal style of the unaccompanied
          motet;

      II. (1660-1720) the beginning of the modern free style;

     III. (1720-1850) middle modern; and

      IV. 1850 to the present.

The peculiar character of the English Reformation in its early stages
was reflected in the ritual-music of the newly-founded national
church. The leaders of the Protestant movement on the continent were
mostly men who sprang from the ranks of the common people. It was in
large measure a democratic and popular movement. It was only natural
that the music of the people should find an echoing response in the
music of the church which sprang from such a foundation, and thus the
chorale, adapted from or closely related to folk-music, forced its way
into the Lutheran ritual-music and exercised a profound influence on
all aspects of the worship-music of German Protestantism. The English
Reformation had no such popular basis. The various stages of its
progress were in the main determined by royal edicts or by acts of
parliaments subservient to the royal will. No channel was open through
which the music of the people could exert any appreciable influence on
the figured music of the Anglican Church. The fragrance of the English
folk-song may be detected in many an example of English hymnology, but
no such aroma ever penetrated into the atmosphere of the anthem or the
‘service.’

When the break with Rome came and the reorganized Church became an
established fact, an astonishingly small number of changes were made,
considering the momentous nature of the revolt, either in the general
body of ecclesiastical officers of the Church or among the church
musicians. For the first century of its existence the figured music
of the Anglican service was almost identical in character with the
corresponding portions of the Roman Catholic service. The style and
structure of the anthem with English words differed in no respect from
the Latin motet. The traditions of English church-music, traditions
whose effects are still to be felt in the choral portions, were firmly
laid by men deeply skilled in polyphonic writing, men whose learning
and musicianship made them worthy compeers of the great continental
contrapuntists, Lassus and Palestrina.

Among the greatest of the church composers of this early period were
such men as Thomas Tallis (1529?-1585), whose anthems ‘I Call and
Cry’ and ‘All People that on Earth do Dwell’ are fine examples of the
old contrapuntal style; William Byrd (1538?-1623), with his masterful
‘Bow Thine Ear’ and ‘Sing Joyfully’; and Orlando Gibbons (1583-1625),
the ‘English Palestrina,’ whose ‘Hosanna,’ ‘Lift up your Heads,’ ‘O
Clap your Hands together,’ and ‘Almighty and Everlasting God’ have
not yet ceased to excite admiration and reverence for their solemnity
and dignity. Most of the anthems of this period are ‘full,’ though
occasional ‘verse’ anthems are also to be found. All were essentially
_a cappella_ and relied wholly upon purely vocal effects. Small
portable organs were in common use in many churches, but when they
were employed as accompaniment they, as well as occasional orchestral
instruments, merely reinforced the voice-parts or filled out the vocal
‘rests.’


                                   IV

Since the Reformation in all countries was fundamentally democratic,
though in varying degrees of expression, it was inevitable that the
people’s song should be given substantial recognition in all forms
of the Protestant service. In Germany the chorale was at once the
utterance of profoundest religious conviction in the sanctuary, in
the home, and on the battlefield; and the incitement to creative
energy in more elaborate musical forms. But in respect to its alliance
with higher forms of art-music, the chorale has no analogue in the
ritual-music of other Protestant services. In France, Switzerland,
and the Netherlands, the only form of religious song tolerated by the
Reformed Church was Calvin’s austere psalmody, which was the beginning
and end of worship-music in all churches under his leadership. His
intolerant antipathy to everything that even suggested the elaborate
and beautiful forms of the Roman ritual rigidly excluded all polyphonic
or figured music as well as all forms of instrumental accompaniment.
The Genevan Psalter, published in various editions from 1542 to 1562
when it appeared in its complete form, consisted of the metrical
translations of the Psalms by Clement Marot and Theodore Beza set, for
the most part, to adaptations of popular secular French songs, though
many of the finest tunes have been variously attributed, but without
conclusive proof, to Louis Bourgeois, Guillaume Franc, and Claude
Goudimel. Many of the fine melodies of the Genevan Psalter, such as
‘Old Hundredth’ or the long-metre doxology and ‘Toulon,’ have persisted
in popularity during the centuries and have been permanently enshrined
in Protestant hymnology. Although many editions of the most popular of
the psalm-tunes appeared for four voices (the melody at first in the
tenor), finely harmonized by Bourgeois, Goudimel and others, no other
than plain unisonal singing of the tunes was permitted in the church
service for over two centuries.

The movement in favor of congregational song quickly passed to
England, where, however, complex conditions prevented the development
of any such uniform type as the chorale. The establishment of the
Church of England, with its revised liturgy and musical service, had
scarcely been effected when it came into collision with opposition
within the Protestant fold far more intense and bitter than any
encountered from its Roman Catholic foes. The Puritan party, in its
excessive repugnance to all forms of ritualism or ceremonial and in its
invincible conviction that everything artistic in worship was sinful,
fiercely attacked the Anglican Church as an insincere compromise with
popery. Following Calvin’s leadership, Puritanism threw overboard the
whole structure of formal worship in the historic church and permitted
in the service no music at all except the congregational singing of the
metrical psalms. In this wholly democratic conception of worship-music
there was obviously no incentive to any higher form of musical
expression. The only contribution of the Dissenters, therefore, to the
literature of church-music was their hymnody, or rather psalmody, for
the words, even though many times rewritten and reparaphrased, were
rigidly limited to the Psalms. The first complete English metrical
Psalter[48] was the famous one by Sternhold and Hopkins in 1562, which
held sway among Puritan congregations for nearly two centuries and a
half and was likewise supreme in the Anglican Church for at least a
century and a half. The new version of the Psalter by Tate and Brady,
published in 1696, remained in favor till a still later date or till
about the middle of the nineteenth century, but the popularity of
both was seriously challenged by the splendid version of Isaac Watts
in 1719. The origin of the sixty-five different psalm-tunes in the
Sternhold and Hopkins collection has been open to much controversy. It
seems highly probable that most of them were of English composition,
though many were doubtless written in imitation of hymn-tunes that were
favorites among the French, Swiss, and German Protestants.

The congregational song of the Anglican Church in the first century
and a half of its existence likewise kept close to the Psalter. Hymns,
in the German sense of spontaneous expression of individual religious
sentiment, were practically unknown in English religious song until
just before the period of Watts and the Wesleys. The idea that nothing
should be used in public worship that was not strictly Scriptural
dominated the services of Conformists and Non-conformists alike. To be
sure, a few ancient hymns, such as the _Te Deum_ and _Veni Creator_,
together with some canticles and ‘spiritual songs,’ were admitted into
the Appendix to the Psalter, to be sung in private devotions, but
it was not until the closing years of the seventeenth century that
the hymn emerged from the protecting care of the Psalms and asserted
itself as an independent form in the service. The first successful
collection in which it assumed a place of its own was ‘Select Psalms
and Hymns’ for St. James’s, Westminster, 1697. A new and glorious era
for English hymnody was at hand, in which the hard, prosaic lines of
the old psalmody were to be laid aside for more spontaneous, inspired
religious utterance. But if the verses of the old poets of an austere,
unloving religion were to be discarded and gradually forgotten, many of
the melodies to which they were sung have lived to be joined to words
of sweeter comfort and more joyous hope than the English religionists
of those olden days permitted themselves. Most of the early tunes were
written in the then prevalent church modes, many were undoubtedly
adapted from English folk-songs and continental melodies, but the names
of many of the greatest English composers of this period--Tye, Tallis,
Gibbons, Byrd--lived on in their inspired church tunes and are still
to be found in nearly every modern hymnal in use, whether prepared for
liturgical or non-liturgical services.


                              FOOTNOTES:

[41] In the ‘Thuringian Mystery, or the Parable of the Ten Virgins,’
written evidently by monks and performed for the first time at
Eisenach, Thuringia, on April 24, 1322, the futility of intercessory
prayers to saints or even to the Virgin is asserted.

[42] This substitution was not entirely accomplished during Luther’s
lifetime, however, as a few Latin motets were retained for a long time.

[43] Philip Wackernagel in his collection of old German hymns (_Das
deutsche Kirchenlied_) gives 1,448 examples of these, dating from 868
to 1518.

[44] Only two can with certainty be ascribed to him--_Jesaia dem
Propheten das geschah_ and _Ein’ feste Burg ist unser Gott_--while five
more are probably by him.

[45] The first chorale-book to adopt this as a fixed principle was the
one published in 1586 at Nuremberg by Lucas Osiander, ‘Fifty Sacred
Songs and Psalms, arranged contrapuntally for four voices, so that a
whole Christian congregation may unite in the singing of them.’

[46] _Cf._ Naumann, ‘The History of Music’ (Eng. trans.), Vol. I, p.
473.

[47] Cantors, however, had existed from early times in the
ecclesiastical establishments and singing schools (_scholæ cantorum_).

[48] Sternhold’s first incomplete collection of nineteen psalms was
published in 1549, the year of his death.




                               CHAPTER IV

 THE EARLY ITALIAN SECULAR CANTATA, THE GERMAN CLASSICAL CANTATA, THE
             ENGLISH ANTHEM, AND OTHER SHORT CHORAL FORMS

     The entrance of dramatic tendencies into music--Carissimi
     and the early cantata; Rossi, Cesti, and Legrenzi--A.
     Scarlatti, the culminating point in cantata-writing in
     Italy; later developments of the Italian cantata--The German
     church cantata and its relation to the Lutheran service;
     cantata-texts of Neumeister and others--Bach in the service
     of the church; his church cantatas--G. F. Handel; Joseph
     Haydn; W. A. Mozart--English church music in the eighteenth
     century; the anthem; Croft, Greene, Boyce, and others--Later
     history of the motet in England, Italy, and Germany;
     decadence of the madrigal; the glee, the part-song, the
     masque and the ode.


The year 1600 is probably the most significant milestone in all the
long history of the development of the art of music. By a strange
coincidence this year witnessed the performance of the first oratorio,
Cavalieri’s ‘The Representation of Body and Soul,’ in Rome and the
first public performance[49] of opera, Peri’s _Euridice_, in Florence.
These events were of tremendous import in that they not only emphasized
and gave direction to the newly-developed dramatic tendencies, but
made necessary the further and more complete development of two
closely-related but subordinate activities--independent instrumental
music and pure vocal art. The entrance of a consciously dramatic
element into musical composition meant a comprehensive widening of
the area of musical expression. Heretofore music had served its
chief purpose and had found its justification in the service of the
church. Though there are portions of the Roman Catholic liturgy
that are essentially dramatic in their spiritual significance, the
avowedly impersonal character of the whole liturgy had excluded the
possibility of utilizing these situations for dramatic treatment, even
in those parts specifically given over to elaborate musical settings.
Had such a dramatic treatment been in consonance with the spirit of
this liturgy, some of the many opportunities would certainly have
been seized upon by such a genius as Palestrina, for there are many
striking examples in his masses and motets of his wonderful ability to
delineate the sentiment and mood of the text and reinforce the meaning
and significance of a word by some expressive chord or dissonance.
These instances serve to suggest how deeply he sensed the genius of the
Roman liturgy and under what admirable artistic restraint he must have
labored in not exploiting the dramatic possibilities which lay even in
the limited musical vocabulary of his period. But this restraint was no
longer necessary in the new secular fields of composition opened up by
the disciples of ‘the new music’ (_nuove musiche_).

The first results of the infusion of this consciously new factor into
musical speech was an intense activity in all fields of composition
that offered opportunity for the employment of the _musica parlante_
or _stilo rappresentativo_, as the new form of musical declamation or
recitative was called that formed the distinguishing characteristic
of the works of Peri, Cavalieri and other early composers of the new
movement. This new form of musical speech was not intended by the
Florentine reformers as an invention, but merely as a revival of the
ancient manner of declaiming tragedy, using varying degrees of vocal
inflection in accordance with the demands of the rhetorical utterance
of the text, with no reference whatever to melodic structure or design.

While the use of the recitative was at first confined to the
opera,[50] it was only natural that experiments should be made in other
forms, less pretentious, in which it was desired to clothe a poetic
text with the expressive strength and beauty of musical tones.

The term ‘cantata’ came to be used by composers in the early part of
the seventeenth century (first probably not far from 1650) to designate
some of these short secular compositions for the chamber, usually
dramatic in character, which were written for a single voice with
a simple accompaniment for one instrument, generally a lute. These
secular compositions were called _cantate da camera_. They were given
without action and at first were sung in unbroken recitative, imitating
the style employed with such success in the operas of Caccini, Peri,
and Monteverdi. But the monotony of this style soon led to the
introduction of the air or sustained melody, which recurred several
times during the progress of the recitative, but with a different text
each time.


                                   I

The cantata as a distinct musical form was assiduously cultivated by
nearly all of the important Italian composers during the seventeenth
century and its form soon began to crystallize along the lines which,
for the following century, characterized it. In this work of definition
and crystallization, Giacomo Carissimi (born probably 1604, died 1674)
had a most distinguished part. He also transferred the cantata from the
chamber to the church and wrote prolifically in both secular and sacred
forms. A more detailed analysis of Carissimi’s influence on choral
writing will be reserved for the discussion of early oratorio, but it
may be said here that, though he cannot be credited with the invention
of the sacred cantata, he was the first musician of large calibre to
adopt this form and to lavish on it his best thought and most profound
skill. He is generally admitted to have exerted more influence on
the perfecting of the recitative than any of his contemporaries and
he firmly established in sacred music those elements of pathos and
dramatic fervor which had proved to be so effective in the opera
and for which the public had acquired so keen an appetite. This
enrichment of the purely musical means of expression in church music
in the interest of greater dramatic realism was by no means a healthy
accretion from the standpoint of pure ecclesiastical music, for, with
the introduction of the dramatic element and the employment of the solo
voice with all the possibilities for virtuosity and the temptations for
display, the period of decadence in the music of the Roman Church began.

All of Carissimi’s cantatas were for one voice or at most for two and
all were written with accompaniment for a single instrument--lute,
harpsichord, ‘cello, etc. His accompaniments were simple, but displayed
unusual lightness and variety for his period. He left a vast amount
of completed work behind him, but little of it is now available.
Dr. Charles Burney,[51] writing near the close of the eighteenth
century, when actual performances of Carissimi’s works were not such
a matter of ancient history as now, gives warm praise to the beauty
and musical effectiveness of his cantatas and liberally reproduces
musical extracts. In speaking of a collection of twenty-two of his
cantatas, preserved in Christ Church, Oxford, Burney says: ‘There is
not one which does not offer something that is still new, curious, and
pleasing; but most particularly in the recitatives, many of which seem
the most expressive, affecting, and perfect that I have seen. In the
airs there are frequently sweet and graceful passages, which more than
a hundred years have not impaired.’ His secular cantatas were both
lyric and dramatic. Only one was suggested by a special event, the
death of Mary Queen of Scots.

The cantata of the seventeenth century was evidently as diverse in
style and character as were its descendants in the eighteenth and
nineteenth centuries. It dealt with subjects that were sacred, profane,
heroic, comic, and sometimes ludicrous. The wider range of subjects
available for the secular or chamber cantata made this form especially
appealing to composers. Then, too, the voice was the most perfectly
developed medium of musical expression that the age provided--the
heritage of centuries of training in the service of the church. While
the violins of the last half of the century approached the most
perfect specimens that the great Cremona violin-makers produced, this
instrument was at a disadvantage as compared with the voice, because
instrumental forms were still very crude and in the making, and the
instruments on which the violin depends for accompanying harmonic
background (the harpsichord and the clavichord) were inadequate,
unsatisfactory, and very limited in their range of musical expression.
Avoidance of a set or arbitrary form was one of the characteristics of
the seventeenth-century chamber cantata as a whole. This freedom in
form (that is, in the order and kind of arias, etc.) offered greatest
scope for the imagination and intellectual capacities of the composer.
The period of vocal virtuosity and degeneracy had not yet set in and
the singers themselves were not only the best trained in everything
pertaining to musical science, but were the most intellectual of
musicians and represented the best phases of musical art and culture.
The intimacy of the chamber and the absence of scenery and action in
performance gave the highest incentive and best opportunity to both
composer and singer to subordinate everything to the higher demands
of artistic expression. Hence the composers of the seventeenth and
first half of the eighteenth centuries regarded the chamber cantata
much in the same light that Beethoven and Brahms in the nineteenth
century regarded the pianoforte sonata and the violin sonata--the most
intimate and intellectual form of music that the age could produce. All
the great composers up to and including Handel practised in this form
as Bach did in fugue, and in its exploitation they worked out many a
problem of thematic development, of contrast in melodic forms, and of
interesting harmonic structure and key-relationships, thereby enriching
the vocabulary of the art for succeeding generations. Mention will
here be made of the more important of Carissimi’s contemporaries and
immediate successors who gained distinction as writers of cantata and
who aided in its further development.

The elaborate cantatas of Luigi Rossi (born near the end of the
sixteenth century, died about 1650) for a single voice--_a voce
sola_--are among the very earliest examples of this form and are
noteworthy illustrations of how quickly the vague and indefinite
recitative of the Florentine monodies began to show tendencies to
formal organization and a pleasing, fluent style for the solo voices.
A fine example of the newly-awakened tendency toward definite form in
secular music is found in his cantata _Gelosia_, which Burney quotes in
full in his History and in which Parry[52] finds the following definite
formal scheme, which had evidently been carefully thought out by the
composer:

     A^1. 4/4, declamatory recitative of 23 measures and close.

     B^1. 3/4, tuneful--nine measures.

     C^1. 4/4, declamatory recitative of 19 measures.

     A^2. Same bass as A^1, but different words and varied
            voice-part.

     B^2. 3/4, same bass as B^1, but different words and different
            voice-part.

     C^2. 4/4, recitative. Same bass as C^1, but different words
            and different voice-part.

     A^3. Same music as A^1, but different words.

     B^3. 3/4, same as B^1, with different words.

     C^3. Same bass and almost the same voice-part as C^1 till
          last three measures, which are varied to give effect to the
          conclusion.

Marc’ Antonio Cesti (about 1620-1669) was a pupil of Carissimi and
went far beyond the efforts of his teacher in the formal construction
of his melodies. His great popularity attests the increasing fondness
of Italian taste for tuneful formality. One of his cantatas, _O cara
libertà_, is said to have been one of the most famous of the century.
Many of his melodies approximate the characteristic forms in which
later vocal arias were cast, including the forms consisting of two
contrasted parts (A B) and of three parts with the contrasted section
in the middle (A B A). In the latter form the third part is a varied or
free repetition of the first part.

Giovanni Legrenzi (about 1625-1690), though only five years younger
than Cesti, made a much larger contribution to the development of his
art, especially on the instrumental side of vocal music. He is credited
with being one of the first composers to display a real instinct for
instrumental music, and he is said to have reorganized the orchestra
used to supplement the organ at St. Mark’s, Venice, increasing it to 34
performers--8 violins, 11 violette (small viola), 2 viole da braccia,
2 viole da gamba, 1 violone (bass viol), 4 theorbos, 2 cornets, 1
bassoon, and 3 trombones. His accompaniments show great vivacity and in
general a variety of style in strong contrast to those of most of his
co-workers. He published many cantatas in which the music runs along
uninterruptedly from beginning to end. The succession of recitatives,
melodious passages, and what might be called arias varies in each
cantata according to the demands of the texts. A great variety is also
noticeable in the form of the arias, which are remarkably free in
rhythm and declamatory flow. His cantatas are among the best types of
this seventeenth-century form.


                                   II

Alessandro Scarlatti (1659-1725) undoubtedly looms largest among the
figures in Italian music of the seventeenth century and the first half
of the eighteenth century, with especially marked influence in the
fields of opera and cantata. One of the most prolific composers of all
ages, he completed 115 operas, many masses (at least 10 survive), 8
oratorios, and a vast number of cantatas[53] (500 have come down to
us), besides quantities of music in other forms. The extraordinary
number of his chamber cantatas that survive him is strong evidence
of his estimate of and affection for this form, examples of which
cover every period of his life and reflect as faithfully as do
Beethoven’s sonatas the various phases and stages of the composer’s
artistic unfolding. Scarlatti was the greatest of the writers of
chamber-cantatas and only a few of his successors approached him in
excellence in this field. Indeed, the popularity of this form seems to
have spent its force in Italy soon after the middle of the eighteenth
century. Many of his cantatas bear internal evidence that he regarded
them as ‘carefully designed studies in composition,’[54] in the
working out of which he brought to bear his best musicianship. One of
the finest examples of this careful and beautiful workmanship is the
cantata _Andata a miei sospiri_, two settings of which he wrote for and
sent to his composer-friend, Gasparini, in 1712.

But the very fertility of his invention and the ease and rapidity with
which his musical thoughts flowed from his pen generated a tendency
toward the adoption of a stereotyped style, influenced as he was by
the growing inclination of his pleasure-loving Neapolitan audiences
to demand triviality more than dramatic seriousness, tuneful melody
and vocal display more than sincerity of expression. He did not
possess the rugged tenacity of artistic purpose that drove Gluck, a
half-century later, to insist on the primacy of the dramatic intent and
the complete subordination of the musical element to the dramatic. So
we find that under his hand the cantata, as well as the opera, became
conventionalized in form. The vocal element, on which he lavished
greatest care, became predominant and the aria, as the chief means
of vocal utterance, fell under the same spell of conventionality.
But in the cantatas, especially in the essentially musical parts,
there are comparatively few evidences of the spirit of triviality
that he so freely admitted into his operas. It is not true, as is
frequently asserted, that Scarlatti invented the stereotyped forms
of the aria that were the chief stock in trade of his successors in
Italian opera until the middle of the nineteenth century. Nearly all
of these aria-forms, including the commonest and most banal operatic
form, the one with the indispensable _da capo_, may be found in the
cantatas and operas of the composers already mentioned, among whom the
inclination toward definite organization in melodic form was already
well developed before Scarlatti had more than begun his career as
composer. The incredible number of arias that he wrote and their easy
classification as to form certainly made this common error of statement
a very pardonable one. From his position as the greatest composer of
his period, however, he gave to their use an authority and an impetus
whose force was not fully spent for a century and a quarter after his
death.

But if Scarlatti’s contributions to the cantata and opera were
mainly along the line of the glorification of the purely musical and
vocal elements, in one direction certainly he contributed richly to
the permanent progress of musical art. In Carissimi’s cantatas the
accompaniments were very simple, written usually with figured bass
only, which was left to the performers to fill in at their discretion.
After Carissimi the accompaniment began to assume a more elaborate
character, but many of Scarlatti’s show utmost care in working out.
Most of these were for violin or ‘cello. Some of those for ‘cello
required such large technical equipment that ability to play them was
looked upon as a mark of distinguished musicianship. Indeed, it was not
uncommon in that age, which was far more superstitious than our own,
for audiences, deeply impressed with the beauty of tone and marvellous
skill of the performers, to believe and declare that angels had assumed
the form of men.

Cantata-writing in Italy reached its highest point in A. Scarlatti
and seems to have been, for a period extending, roughly speaking,
from 1650 to 1750, almost the only form of vocal music used for
private or chamber purposes. As Parry points out, ‘it is certainly
creditable to the taste of the prosperous classes that a branch of art
which had such distinguished qualities should have been so much in
demand; for the standard of style, notwithstanding obvious defects,
is always high.’[55] But the decline in the standards of opera had an
inevitable effect on the character of its closely allied form, the
chamber-cantata. Though composers continued industriously to employ
it, the finest examples are to be found among the composers already
mentioned. In addition to the above, Giovanni Battista Bassani (about
1657-1716) published numerous cantatas on love themes for one, two,
or three voices with instruments and maintained a noble style in both
vocal and instrumental parts, his handling of the instrumental parts
being distinctly an advance over previous composers.


It is to be noted that few, if any, distinguishing or personal marks
can be discovered in the works of the various Italian composers of
this period, particularly those whose names follow. All say the same
elegant, suave things in much the same elegant, suave manner. Francesco
Gasparini (1668-1727) had such a high reputation in his time that
Alessandro Scarlatti sent his son, Domenico, to study with him. Later
a curious rivalry sprang up between Gasparini and the elder Scarlatti,
which took the strange guise of a cantata-correspondence in which
each sought to puzzle and outdo the other. Gasparini’s fame, however,
rested on a treatise upon accompaniment, published in 1708, which
remained a standard work in Italy until well along in the nineteenth
century. Benedetto Marcello (1686-1739), celebrated for his settings
of 50 psalms for one, two, three, and four voices with accompaniment,
published 26 cantatas for different voices with accompaniment for
various instruments. The Royal Library at Dresden contains copies of
two of his cantatas--_Timotheus_, to his own Italian translation of
Dryden’s poem, and _Cassandra_--both of which were famous in their
time. Emanuele Astorga (1681-1736) is remembered now almost entirely by
his beautiful cantatas for solo voices (soprano or contralto), of which
about 100 are extant, and for two voices, all with accompaniment in
figured bass for the harpsichord. Ten of these duets (for soprano and
contralto) are published in Peters’ Edition and also by Leuckhart with
accompaniment arranged for pianoforte.

Domenico Scarlatti (1685-1757), son of Alessandro Scarlatti and
especially famous as a harpsichord player and composer for this
instrument, wrote many cantatas in which the form became more
extended, comprising various movements. In this extension of form
Scarlatti was followed by Pergolesi (1710-1736), whose cantata _Orfeo
ed Euridice_, written in the composer’s last illness, was the most
famous of the period. Giovanni Battista Bononcini (about 1660-about
1750), remembered now as the defeated rival of the great Handel in the
famous London opera-writing duel, was one of the most prolific of all
cantata writers, though the music was quite mediocre. Other well-known
Italian composers of the eighteenth century who employed the extended
cantata-form were Antonio Caldara (1678-1763) and Niccola Porpora
(1686-1766 or 1767). The great Handel himself wrote many cantatas for
single voice in the prevalent fashion and in many of them used for
his accompaniment such combinations of instruments as strings and
oboes. After Handel’s time the cantata of the Italian type described
above lost favor and was gradually superseded by the concert aria,
a form which Mozart, Beethoven, and Mendelssohn have used with fine
results.[56] Mozart gave the name cantata to a composition for three
solo voices, chorus, and orchestra in three movements, written about
1783 (Koëchel No. 429). The distinction of having used the chorus in
the cantata for the first time, however, probably rests with Giovanni
Paësiello (1741-1816), who, in an attempt to revive the waning interest
in this form, sought to give greater vocal effectiveness by contrasting
choral with solo effects. In this formal respect at least, several
of his cantatas (as _Dafne ed Alceo_ and _Retour de Persée_) are
prototypes of the present-day form.

Thus far in the consideration of the cantata we have been concerned
mainly with its secular form and with its development in Italy. The
secular cantata in Italian style does not seem to have gained any
permanent popularity outside the land of its birth, certainly not
enough to attract the attention of the best composers either in France,
which had developed a dramatic style of its own along different
principles from those of the Italians, or in Germany and England, in
both of which countries the influence of Italian opera predominated. In
France only unimportant composers cared to employ it. In England native
composers of the seventeenth century found two worthy substitutes for
the cantata in the masque and the ode.

In the very beginning of its career the cantata was successfully placed
within the domain of church music by Carissimi, and during his lifetime
and later the church-cantata in Italy had much the same form as that of
the oratorio, to which it was so closely allied in spirit and function.
But in Germany, under the influence of the intense religious feeling
engendered by the stormy days of the Reformation, it took on the
character almost of a national religious institution. Here it developed
into a form of such magnificent proportions and significant influence
that an extended exposition of some of the contributing causes and
accompanying conditions may be pertinent.


                                   III

German choral music, which in its early history means German
church music, cannot be considered apart from certain fundamental
national traits which are present in some degree even in the earliest
folk-music of this nation and in the effusions of the mediæval
minnesingers--traits which instinctively turned their artistic
attention toward sincerity of poetic thought and utterance rather
than sensuous beauty of melodic expression. An instinct for grasping
fundamentals, a fervid devotion, and a rugged tenacity in following
accepted ideals--these were qualities that made Germany a fit cradle
for the Reformation and the German people the foremost defenders and
stoutest preachers of the religious emancipation of the individual
which Luther proclaimed with such far-sounding tones. The contrapuntal
skill that German musicians had learned, along with the rest of
Europe, from the Netherland masters, they did not use so much for
the glorification of music or for æsthetic and formal considerations
as for the enrichment and elucidation of the ideas and sentiments of
the words. When the rest of Europe had capitulated to the ravishing
sweetness and allurements of Italian melody, Germany listened somewhat
incredulously, and even when this charmer was finally admitted into the
inner courts of its musical household, it was compelled to assume a
purified and chastened form.

The essential characteristics of German musical art are well
illustrated by the condition of music in Germany in the seventeenth
century as compared with that of Italy. The secular impulse that had
wrought such a revolution in Italian music and musical methods had
made itself felt in Germany at an even earlier period, but in a very
different manner. In the southern country it brought about an intense
development of the dramatic element. This almost immediately reacted
upon church music and left upon it an indelible impression, sadly
weakening the Palestrina ideal of impersonality with the impingement of
the strong personal, human element which the introduction of the solo
inevitably emphasized, and which led, as has been pointed out, to a
period of deterioration in Catholic church music.

The change in German music can also be traced to a secular source,
but not only were the immediate results of this change, in terms of
actual music, vastly different from those in Italy, but the controlling
motive which molded its varied manifestations was alike different.
The German Protestants were at once summoned to test the strength
and sincerity of their new-found faith in the crucible of physical
combat, and they were stirred as was possibly no other nation engaged
in the complicated succession of religious wars of the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries. As it was religious fervor that led them to take
up the sword in defence, so it was religious sentiment and devotion
that furnished the motive that lies back of the entire scheme of German
musical art of the seventeenth century. To the rather austere German
composers of this period music seemed to be too lovely and pure a thing
to be used for histrionic tricks and trappings. So the most sincere
and important utterances of German musical art of the seventeenth
century are to be found in the field of religious music. It has been
pointed out (page 79) that the chorale was the basis of the music which
sprang into being as the natural expression of the Protestant movement
in Germany. Since the rich mass of folk-song supplied such abundant
material for the chorales used in the Lutheran service, the secular
element through this channel entered into the very warp and woof of
German music, and carried into it the quality of simple and fervid
sincerity that in a marked degree has always characterized the German
folk-song and the art-music that sprang from it.

The secular element had wrought a complete change in Italian music
within the short space of a half century and the impetuous Italians
had given themselves over to the new tendency so whole-heartedly
that the boundaries of the old ecclesiastical art were almost wholly
obliterated. An unexpected caution and conservatism, however,
manifested itself among the Germans and an entire century elapsed
before a definite and distinctive art-fabric was evolved from the
material at hand. Composers, now almost wholly forgotten, but who
might have won more frequent historic mention had they chosen to tread
the more brilliant path of histrionic art, worked contentedly and
with pious enthusiasm to make chorales for the church service or to
construct motets by using the chorale tunes as subjects and weaving
voice-parts around them in expressive counterpoint or in imitative
figures, with all the polyphonic skill they possessed.

Out of this religious zeal finally emerged the German church cantata,
which found its culminating point, as did so many other musical forms
associated with German church music, in Johann Sebastian Bach. In
Italy and elsewhere in connection with Roman Catholic music, the
church cantata never possessed any liturgical significance, though
it was freely employed for purposes of religious entertainment and
instruction. But almost immediately after its introduction into
Germany through the gifted German students who had studied in Italian
art-centres, notably in Venice, the church cantata became a part of the
regular order of the German Protestant church worship and thus became
the object of solicitous attention on the part of Protestant German
composers. Encouraged by the church and firmly imbedded in its liturgy,
it needed only the touch of Bach’s genius to cause it to grow into
full artistic stature and stand as the most precious musical gift of
German Protestantism to the world. In the seventeenth century it was
frequently called ‘spiritual concerto’ or ‘spiritual dialogue,’[57]
and consisted of Biblical passages and church or devotional hymns.
During this period its rather crude musical form usually followed this
order--an instrumental introduction, a ‘spiritual aria’ (a simple
strophic song for one or more voices), one or two vocal solos, and a
chorale or two.

While German religious music was cautiously feeling its way toward
individual self-expression, there were not wanting among German
musicians those who felt that the forms of Italian dramatic music,
such as the recitative and aria with their obvious possibilities for
the expression of impassioned human feeling, should be fully utilized
in the structure of their new religious art, and who argued that the
qualities of brilliance, variety, and personal utterance should be
present in ecclesiastical art as well as in secular. On the other hand
were those who were in favor of banishing from the church service
all vocal music except that based on the austere chorale and motet
(analogous to the Latin motet of the sixteenth century), and who would
restrict all church music to the more abstract, objective, and liturgic
conception derived from ecclesiastical traditions. Standing on middle
ground between these two extreme ideals, Bach, with the insight born of
genius, retained all that was best and most serviceable in each--the
simple strength and sturdy devotion of the chorale, together with the
contrapuntal chorus, as the collective expression of exalted religious
sentiment, and the recitative and Italian aria, chastened and stripped
of its histrionic shallowness and insincerity, as the individual
personal utterance of the more subjective moods of meditation and
introspection.

The Lutheran Church retained in its liturgy many of the prominent
features of the Roman liturgy. Among them were portions of the mass,
the custom of chanting certain parts of the service, the singing of
ancient hymns and traditional tunes, and the observance of special
church days and festivals. The calendar of the church year was largely
the same in the two faiths, and in the Lutheran Church, as in the
Roman, the order and character of the different portions of the service
were carefully prescribed by church law. Each Sunday and special day
had its own appropriate Bible lesson, versicles and prayers, and its
own chorales, the words of which would illustrate the Bible texts
of the day, commenting upon them and applying their lessons to the
common experience of the devout worshippers. This intimate relation of
chorales to a definite church-day was of obvious advantage to composers
in that it enabled them to construct, around the chorales as central
points, compositions which would amplify the sentiment of the stanzas
of the chorales and serve as musical commentaries on the religious
significance of the various days of the church calendar. The cantata
thus became the chief musical feature of the Lutheran liturgy, and the
words brought to the attention of the congregation some particular
feature of the religious thought that received special emphasis in the
order of the day.

The great popularity of the cantata with both church authorities
and congregation in Germany was undoubtedly due in part to the many
opportunities it offered for satisfying the universal craving for
greater individualization, for freer utterance of individual emotion
and sentiment. The opera of the period, which consisted largely of
solo-singing, gave free rein to the expression of personal feeling, as
the spirit of the times demanded. Yet nothing that was really permanent
or artistic could arise from this foundation, since the subjects of
opera were drawn almost exclusively from far-removed classical and
mythological sources. These subjects held little or no real interest
for the masses, and the singers who impersonated the legendary
characters were actuated almost solely by professional vanity. The
opera was thus inevitably surrounded with an atmosphere of insincerity
and moral indifference. While the people applauded, they remained
untouched except on the surface, and only partly satisfied. When the
element of personal expression was transferred to church performances,
the situation was radically changed. Their religious experiences were
real and vital and tangible. The important part that the congregation
was encouraged to take in the singing of hymns and chorales gave to
the zealous worshippers a feeling of individual responsibility in the
services. Even in those more elaborate musical portions assigned to
the choir, they could follow, in fancied participation, the religious
emotions set forth in a language that they could readily understand and
that was intensified by the expressive power of appropriate music. The
intensely subjective, sometimes even sentimental, nature of the texts
made a deep appeal to the warm Protestant piety of the German people.

Poetical texts of a semi-dramatic character, suited in more or less
definite way to the different church days, soon came to be in great
demand. The first to supply such cantata texts of real literary merit
was Erdmann Neumeister (1671-1756), a preacher-poet of Sorau and
Hamburg, who wrote no less than five complete cycles of texts for the
church calendar. Though a host of other poets followed him in writing
similar cantata texts, Neumeister seems to have been unexcelled and
to have had a large influence by the sheer literary excellence of his
poetry and the moving power of his pious eloquence. Both Telemann and
Mattheson were appreciative collaborators with him, and among the
cantatas which Bach wrote with such incredible industry for his choir
at St. Thomas’ Church are several with Neumeister’s fine texts.

Neumeister’s cycles of cantatas were published between the years 1704
and 1716. In the preface to the first of these cycles he frankly stated
that ‘a cantata has the appearance of a piece taken out of an opera.’
The publication of these cycles of cantata texts brought on a fierce
controversy between his adherents among churchmen and musicians on the
one side and the Pietists and those who were swayed by an instinctive
antipathy to theatrical music of any kind on the other. Even the older
and more severe cantatas had been accused of worldliness, but the very
idea of using in the worship of God the recitative and aria, which
were the chief vehicles of musical expression in the profane opera,
was repugnant to the pietistic mind. The innovators were charged with
bringing into the church all sorts of ‘singable stuff’ and gay and
dance-like tunes. To this Mattheson, who was chief among the musicians
of his period who could wield a pen in defence of their art-theories,
replied that of course a distinction must be made between a sacred and
an operatic recitative, and that intelligent musicians knew well enough
how to treat it in the spirit of the church service and thus preserve
a true church style which would be at the same time an independent
style.[58] And so the question as to what constitutes the true church
style, as to what is pure church music, has been hotly discussed, with
greater or less absence of brotherly love, in every generation for
the last two centuries, and, it is to be observed, with much the same
arguments as weapons in each succeeding generation.


                                   IV

In simplest definition church music, as Spitta has concisely said, is
music ‘that has grown up within the bosom of the church’[59] and, he
might have added, that best expresses the essence and spirit of its
distinctive creedal beliefs. It took centuries for Roman Catholicism
to produce a Palestrina. But, when he did appear, he acted as genius
has always acted; while the learned theologians of the Council of
Trent were speculating on the true character of church music and
fulminating against abuses, he was quietly creating those wonderful
masses and motets that have ever since been regarded as the loftiest
musical embodiment of the spirit of the Roman Catholic liturgy and
which, therefore, needed no edict of council or pontiff to establish
their supremacy. And so, while lesser musicians were busily engaged
in defending the new ideas, Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750), with
all the quiet confidence of genius, was steadily producing works for
the church service that stand in the same relation to the Lutheran
liturgy and to the spirit of the Lutheran Church of his period that
Palestrina’s music stands to the Roman liturgy.

The whole creative energy of Bach’s genius seemed to centre around
his deeply religious nature. The great majority of his works were
written either expressly for the Lutheran Church service or in forms
appropriate to the spirit of this service. He consciously set himself
the task not only to regenerate church music, which even in his time
had fallen into melancholy ways, but especially to take the forms
which he found already technically developed and to apply them to the
utterance of the exalted ideas of religious life and experience as
interpreted through the German Protestant faith. Bach was the only
one of the eighteenth-century German composers who was completely
equipped for so worthy a task. Springing from sturdy peasant stock,
bred and educated entirely in his own beloved Thuringia and wholly in
accordance with German traditions and Protestant ideals, and never
deeming it necessary to go abroad for those superficial refinements
which his nation lacked, Bach was essentially and peculiarly the
product of a culture that was purely German Protestant. He was endowed
with an intellectual force of truly gigantic proportions and with a
catholicity wide and wise enough to assimilate whatever was vital and
vigorous in the various musical forms and styles with which the air was
filled. He was absolute master of organ music, which throughout the
seventeenth century was the only branch of art to develop real splendor
as an indigenous product of the Lutheran Church. Although in thought
and feeling a thoroughgoing churchman, he had the wit to discern that
even the opera, the worldly antipode of the churchly ideal, contained
elements that could be rendered valuable in reverent service to purely
religious purposes. In Bach’s hands these operatic elements lost their
emotional sensuality, washed clean in the pure impersonal flow of his
organ music. Thus he reconciled the two seemingly dissimilar styles and
fused them into one, which so perfectly expressed the essential being
of the Church he so deeply loved and so loyally served that, as Spitta
asserts, he ‘has remained to this day the last church composer.’[60]

During all his years of musical activity Bach was a church organist and
choir director. In these positions it was a part of his official duties
to compose music for the various services of the church calendar. The
zeal and fidelity with which he performed this part of his task is
clearly evidenced by the following list of his more important church
works, vocal and instrumental: about 20 large fantasias, preludes
and fugues, a passacaglia, several toccatas, and a large number of
chorale-preludes and elaborations, about 300 cantatas, 5 Passions, 3
oratorios for Christmas, Easter, and Ascension, 5 large masses and
several shorter ones, many motets, 2 Magnificats, 5 Sanctuses, etc.

By far the largest single group of his compositions consists of
church cantatas. Of these he wrote five series for the Sundays and
festivals of the church year, 295 cantatas in all, of which 266 were
written while he was director of music at the Thomas and Nicolai
Churches in Leipzig, which post he held from 1723 until his death
in 1750. They easily take rank among the master’s best works, and,
notwithstanding the rather astounding fact that for over four years
he wrote a cantata each week for the following Sunday’s service in
addition to other compositions, they contain many of the finest and
loftiest examples of accompanied church music of his own or any other
period, and give unmistakable evidence of the scholarly care and loving
thought he bestowed upon them. As a group they are excelled only by
the Passions and the great B minor Mass, and some of their choruses
are not surpassed even by these wonderful creations. Not one of them
was published during his life and many have been lost. The manuscripts
remained almost forgotten for nearly a century after his death, but
the Bach-Gesellschaft has published about two hundred of them in its
authoritative edition of the master’s works (1851-1899), comprising
over fifty volumes and forming an enduring monument to the master’s
genius.

An interesting and illuminating light is thrown upon Bach’s attitude
toward the composition of his church music, especially the cantatas,
when we remember that they were all written, not for universal fame
or popular acclaim, but for the use of his own choir and for the
edification of that particular congregation for whom it was his
business to write music. He wrote them, exactly as the minister
wrote his sermons, as personal contributions to the effectiveness
and completeness of individual church services and occasions. There
is little evidence to show that the congregation looked upon these
masterly compositions in any other light than as regular and necessary
parts of the ordinary routine of service, little dreaming that a future
century would give them such lofty valuation.

The church cantatas[61] reveal an astonishing versatility and range
of expression which show how completely he surrendered his merely
technical musicianship to the guidance of the sentiment and mood of
the texts, and the needs of their liturgic environment. In these
cantatas he has bequeathed to his church and nation ‘a treasury
of religious song compared with which, for magnitude, diversity,
and power, the creative work of any other church composer that may
be named--Palestrina, Gabrieli, or whoever he may be--sinks into
insignificance.’[62]

In length they vary from four to seven movements, frequently with an
instrumental prelude or overture. The shortest consume about twenty
minutes in performance and the longest an hour or so. They are all
written with accompaniment for organ and, usually, some solo instrument
or group of instruments. The vocal numbers consist of recitatives,
arias, duets, and choruses. In no other eighteenth-century composer
does the recitative assume such qualities of expressive and fluent
melody as in Bach. The arias vary greatly in form, ranging from the use
of the _da capo_, which in his hands loses its Italian superficiality
and conventionality, to the utmost freedom of melodic design. In the
choruses he found full opportunity for indulging his characteristic
fondness for elaborate and complex polyphonic structures. His
conception of the relation of the voice-parts to the whole tonal scheme
differed radically from contemporary usage. To him the solo part was
not a thing complete in and of itself, but rather a contrapuntal
detail of a larger tonal unit. Hence the accompaniment usually rises
to melodic importance coordinate with the voice-part. Sometimes,
indeed, the voice-part sinks to secondary consideration, and merely
concertizes with a more significant theme assigned to the organ or
some solo instrument. Bach’s whole mode of thought was so essentially
instrumental in its coloring and expressional devices that he
frequently produces results that are hardly consonant with what might
be called vocal idiom. Such a mode of treatment easily lapses into
monotony and over-austerity, of which there are occasional instances in
all of his vocal works. But there are more than enough counterbalancing
examples of arias in his cantatas to show how plastic this form could
become in his hands for the expression of the deepest and tenderest
sentiments and for the musical delineation of the subtlest details in
the changing thought of the texts.

The chorale, as already mentioned, played a most important rôle in
the constructional plan of Bach’s cantatas. Since each church day had
its especially appointed chorale (_Hauptlied_), he made it an almost
universal practice to introduce this, either in whole or in modified
form, as material for contrapuntal treatment in the voice-parts or in
the accompaniments of at least several of the movements. In some of
the cantatas, such as _Wer nur den lieben Gott_ and especially the
famous _Ein’ feste Burg_, chorales appear in some guise or other in
every movement, whether recitative, aria, or chorus. There are but
very few of the cantatas, among them the well-known _Ich hatte viel
Bekümmerniss_, in which no chorale-melody appears. The Bach cantata
regularly closed with a chorale in a plain and unornamented four-part
form, but richly harmonized.

It is a real misfortune that the profound beauties of these rare
examples of ecclesiastical art are now practically unknown to any
except the occasional student. But there are at least three things
that have conspired to keep them away from the general knowledge and
appreciation of the present-day public--(1) the Lutheran service, which
in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries usually lasted for four
hours at least, has been much shortened and the cantata is no longer a
necessary component, hence at present it is rarely heard even in its
original home, the Lutheran service; (2) the organ was such a central
and dominating part of Bach’s whole scheme of musical utterance that
the cantata cannot be performed with any other accompaniment without
a large shrinkage in artistic effectiveness; (3) these works are so
completely saturated with the spirit and meaning of the particular
type of church worship for which they were created that when performed
in the concert room, even with the organ, they lose in large measure,
merely from the changed perspective and environment. Many of the
cantatas are available for study in Peters’ Edition and, in English
translation, in the Novello Edition.

Bach’s vocal polyphony, as illustrated by the intricate choruses of
his cantatas, was built squarely on his conception of instrumental
polyphony as applied to the church service. All the finest qualities of
his organ style--the inexhaustible wealth of invention, the masterful
use of every contrapuntal device for exploiting the thematic material,
the majestic sweep of massive bodies of closely knit melodies--all
are found in these choruses in a profusion and affluence that show
at once the marvellous fecundity of his genius and the reverent love
and patient care with which his task was wrought. Of the nearly fifty
cantatas that are published with German and English texts, many might
justly be chosen for analysis that would closely approach in excellence
the few here presented. These few, however, are recognized as among the
greatest and are thoroughly representative of Bach’s cantata style.
In addition to these there may also be enumerated _Wer nur den lieben
Gott_ (‘If Thou but Sufferest God to Guide Thee’), _Jesu, meine Freude_
(‘Jesu, Priceless Treasure’), _Aus tiefer Noth schrei’ ich zu Dir_
(‘From Depths of Woe I Call on Thee’), and the Ascension cantata _Wer
da glaubet und getauft wird_ (‘Whoso Believeth and Is Baptized’).

_Ich hatte viel Bekümmerniss_ (‘My Heart was Full of Heaviness’).--This
work was Bach’s first sacred cantata. He composed it in 1714 at Weimar
while still depressed over his difficulties with the elders of the
_Liebfrauenkirche_ at Halle about an organ position; the music is
strongly colored by this mental condition. It was written for the third
Sunday after Trinity and contains eleven numbers. The first part,
which is mournful in character, consists of a quiet opening chorus, a
beautiful aria for soprano accompanied by oboe and strings, a tender
recitative and aria full of intense sorrow, and a closing chorus
tinged with deep pathos, ‘Why, my Soul, art thou vexed?’ Part II is
more cheerful. A duet for soprano and bass, who represent the soul and
Christ, is followed by a richly harmonized chorus introducing a chorale
melody. Then comes a pleasing tenor aria with graceful accompaniment,
‘Rejoice, O my Soul, change weeping to smiling,’ leading to a final
chorus. The words ‘The Lamb that for us is slain, to Him will we
render power and glory,’ are uttered majestically by the full choir;
the solo bass gives out the words ‘Power and glory and praise be unto
Him forevermore,’ leading to the final ‘Hallelujah,’ poured forth with
tremendous effect by the combined choir and orchestra.

_Gottes Zeit ist die allerbeste Zeit_ (‘God’s time is the best of
all’) is usually called the _Actus Tragicus_, and occasionally the
‘Mourning Cantata,’ as it was evidently written to commemorate the
death of some aged man. This work, too, was composed at Weimar in
Bach’s younger days. The introduction is quiet and tender, introducing
some themes used later in the body of the cantata. The opening chorus
(‘God’s own time is the best of all. In Him we live, move, and have
our being, as long as He wills. And in Him we die at His good time’)
is at first slow and solemn, but changes to a quick fugue and ends in
a strain of mournful beauty, befitting the last part of the text. Next
comes a tenor solo, ‘O Lord, incline us to consider that our days are
numbered,’ the text being continued in a mournful aria for bass, ‘Set
in order thine house, for thou shalt die and not live.’ The choir then
sings ‘It is the old decree, Man, thou art mortal,’ the lower voices
forming a double fugue, while the soprano repeats the words ‘Yea, come,
Lord Jesus,’ and the orchestra intones the melody of an old hymn, ‘I
have cast all my care on God.’ The words spoken on the cross, ‘Into
Thy hands my spirit I commend,’ are rendered by the alto, the bass
answering ‘Thou shalt be with Me to-day in Paradise.’ A chorale sung by
the alto mingles with the last of the bass arioso. The work closes with
a chorus, using the so-called Fifth Gloria,

      ‘All glory, praise, and majesty
      To Father, Son, and Spirit be,
      The holy, blessed Trinity,’ etc.

_Ein’ feste Burg._--This cantata, one of the strongest of the
remarkable series of church works composed by Bach, is constructed on
Luther’s immortal hymn, the battle-hymn of the Reformation. Historians
differ as to the exact time of its composition, but all agree that it
was when Bach was at the height of his creative power, the occasion
probably being either the Reformation Festival of 1730 or the
bicentenary of Protestantism in Saxony, May 17, 1739. It is laid out in
truly grand proportions and is permeated from first to last with the
bold spirit of triumphant confidence that made the old Reformation days
such a stirring memory in every German heart. The cantata opens with a
stupendous fugue based on Luther’s melody and using the first stanza
of the hymn, than which Bach never wrote anything grander. Following
this comes a duet for soprano and bass, the text including the second
stanza. A bass recitative and a soprano aria lead to the second great
chorus, in which the chorale is sung in unison and with mighty effect,
amid a whirl of wildly leaping figures in the orchestra, to the third
stanza of the hymn, ‘And were the world all devils o’er And watching
to devour us.’ The sixth number, a tenor recitative, leads to a duet
for alto and tenor, ‘How blessed then are they who still on God are
calling.’ The chorale is heard again in the final chorus, this time
sung without accompaniment to the last stanza of the hymn--a thrilling
ending to a colossal work.


                                   V

Handel (1685-1759), one of the few great masters of choral writing, was
a man in whose life strange contrasts jostled each other. He was born a
German, but died a naturalized Englishman and was buried in Westminster
Abbey among England’s most illustrious sons; he was intended by his
parents to be a lawyer, but by nature to be a musician; the greater
part of his life was spent in writing operas, popular in his day but
now forgotten, while his fame now rests almost entirely on the great
oratorios that he wrote after he was fifty years old and had been
practically driven from the operatic stage by intrigues and cabals. He
towers above all his contemporaries except Bach; while his greatest
masterpieces are his oratorios, his smaller choral works in secular
cantata-form display his fine instinct for gracious melody, dramatic
coloring, and characteristic choral effects.

‘Acis and Galatea.’--This cantata or pastoral (the composer calls it
a serenata, under which title it had its first London performance in
1732) was composed by Handel in 1720, while he was chapel-master to
the Duke of Chandos, and was performed at Cannons the following year.
In writing it, following a custom very much in vogue among composers
of his time, he drew upon an earlier work composed in 1708 during his
sojourn in Italy. Most of the text was written by the poet John Gay,
though certain fragments were borrowed from Dryden, Hughes, and Pope.

The nymph Galatea deeply loved the shepherd Acis, but in turn was
adored by Polyphemus, the one-eyed Cyclops of Ætna. One day, while she
was reclining in Acis’ embrace, the giant, believing himself alone,
poured out his story of hopeless love, ending in a burst of jealousy
against his rival, when, spying the lovers, he hurled an immense rock
at Acis and crushed him. His blood, gushing forth, became a purling
stream.

A graceful overture, pastoral in style, leads to a chorus depicting
the pleasures of rustic life. Galatea enters, seeking her lover, and
sings a recitative, ‘Ye verdant plains and woody mountains,’ followed
by a sweet melody, ‘Hush, ye pretty warbling choir!’ Acis responds with
an aria of exquisite grace and beauty, one of Handel’s finest, ‘Love in
her eyes sits playing and sheds delicious death.’ Galatea replies with
the famous ‘As when the dove laments her love,’ after which the first
part closes with a sparkling duet and chorus, ‘Happy we.’ Part II opens
with a chorus of alarm, expressing fear of the love-sick giant and
describing the phenomena of Nature at his angry approach. Then follows
a recitative by the Cyclops, ‘I melt, I rage, I burn,’ and after it the
well-known aria, ‘O ruddier than the cherry!’ Acis’ plaintive song,
‘Love sounds the alarm,’ follows in marked contrast. Galatea begs him
to trust the gods and is joined by the other two in the trio, ‘The
flocks shall leave the mountain.’ The Cyclops in a rage then seizes
a fragment of Mt. Ætna and crushes the unhappy lover. Galatea’s sad
lament follows, ‘Must I my Acis still bemoan?’ and the work closes with
a consolatory chorus of the shepherds and shepherdesses, ‘Galatea, dry
thy tears.’

‘Alexander’s Feast.’--The text for this work is Dryden’s famous poem,
the full title of which is ‘Alexander’s Feast or the Power of Music, a
Song in Honour of St. Cecilia’s Day, 1697.’ Handel composed the music
in 1736, completing the first part January 5th, the second January
17th. The work came to its first performance at Covent Garden Theatre,
February 19th, 1736, and met with remarkable success, winning a lasting
popularity which even at the present time makes it one of the five
best-known of Handel’s choral works. The chief solos are the stormy
aria ‘"Revenge, Revenge!" Timotheus cries,’ and the great descriptive
recitative, ‘Give the vengeance due to the valiant crew.’ Some of the
choruses are among Handel’s finest, equalling those of the ‘Messiah’ or
‘Israel in Egypt.’ They are ‘Behold Darius great and good,’ ‘Break his
bands of sleep asunder,’ ‘Let old Timotheus yield the prize,’ and ‘The
many rend the skies with loud applause.’

_L’Allegro._--The full title of this work is _L’Allegro, il Penseroso
ed il Moderato_, Milton’s two descriptive poems, _L’Allegro_ and _Il
Penseroso_, supplying the text for the first two movements; but instead
of being preserved as separate poems in the musical work, they are
made to alternate in sixteen contrasting strophes and anti-strophes.
Allegro, represented by the tenor, sings the praises of pleasure and
light-heartedness; Penseroso, a soprano, following each time with
the regularity of a shadow, advocates meditation and seriousness and
melancholy. The Moderato was an addition supplied by Handel and his
librettist, Charles Jennens, and represented chiefly by a chorus, whose
purpose it was to counsel both Allegro and Penseroso to adhere to a
middle course as the safest; but this third part is rarely given. The
work is in Handel’s best style--the Allegro is spirited, the Penseroso
serious and tender, and the Moderato calm and sedate. The music was
composed in the seventeen days between January 19th and February 6th,
1740, and was first performed on February 27th of the same year at the
Royal Theatre, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, London.

Haydn’s (1732-1809) life-work was indissolubly associated with
instrumental forms. The parentage and early development of the sonata
and the modern orchestra can be traced directly to him. He wrote
comparatively little in choral forms and the best of this was in the
field of oratorio and church music.

In 1785 Haydn was commissioned to write ‘The Seven Words of Jesus on
the Cross,’ sometimes called ‘The Passion,’ as music for the Good
Friday service for the cathedral of Cadiz. As first written it was an
instrumental work of seven slow movements, which the composer later
produced in London under the name _Passione Instrumentale_. Later still
he introduced numbers for solo voices and chorus and, by inserting in
the middle a _largo_ movement for wind instruments, divided it into two
parts. In this form it was first presented at Vienna in 1796 and was
published in 1801. The work is simple in structure and a similarity of
mood and character pervades the various movements. It opens with an
impressive orchestral number, after which each of the Seven Words is
successively stated in the form of a chorale followed by a chorus. In
conclusion comes a descriptive chorus in rapid movement, ‘The Veil of
the Temple was rent in twain,’ which pictures vividly the darkness, the
earthquake, the rending tombs, and the raising of the saints. Haydn
frequently expressed a great fondness for this work, and by many of his
contemporaries it was regarded as one of his most sublime creations.

_Ariadne auf Naxos._--This cantata, written for a solo voice (soprano)
and orchestra, is dated 1782. It is one of the most perfect examples
of the original cantata form, the Italian _cantata da camera_ already
described. The story is that of Ariadne, daughter of Minos, king of
Crete, who, desperately in love with Theseus, son of Ægeus, king of
Athens, aids him with a thread to escape from the labyrinth after
slaying the Minotaur, and accompanies him on his return to Athens. She
awakens on the island of Naxos to find herself abandoned by her lover,
and here the cantata opens. The music pictures her awakening, her
gradual realization of Theseus’ perfidy, her anxiety, her anger, and
her despair. The vocal score is intricate, demanding not only facility
in execution, but also a noble style of musical declamation, great
musical intelligence, and refinement of sentiment.

       *       *       *       *       *

Outside of the instrumental forms in which his universal genius made
him so preëminent, Mozart’s natural artistic instinct led him most
strongly to dramatic music. He sought the opera as an opportunity for
highest artistic endeavor; but other vocal forms he employed, not so
much from choice as from the demands of special occasions. Like Haydn,
he paid but passing attention to the cantata.

‘King Thamos.’--The foundation of this work by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
(1756-91) was an historical drama, ‘Thamos, King of Egypt,’ written
by Freiherr von Gebler. To this Mozart composed the incidental music,
consisting of five entr’actes and three majestic choruses. The music
was written in 1779 and 1780 at Salzburg; the work was presented a few
times there under the direction of Boehm and Schikaneder and then was
shelved. However, Mozart utilized some of the music by setting the
choruses to Latin and German words, in which form they were used in the
church service as hymns and motets. They are known to musicians now
by the names _Splendente te Deus_, _Deus tibi laus et honor_, and _Ne
pulvis et cinis_. Though a feeling of great solemnity pervades them,
their original theatrical purpose cannot be entirely concealed behind
their adopted sacred words.

_Davidde Penitente._--This cantata originated in Mozart’s vow, made
before his marriage with Constance Weber, to write a mass to celebrate
her arrival at Salzburg as his wife. The ‘half-mass’ which he actually
wrote for this occasion comprised only the Kyrie, Gloria, Sanctus, and
Benedictus, the rest being supplied from an earlier mass. The work
was given in this form at St. Peter’s Church, August 25, 1783, his
wife taking the solo part. Early in 1785 Mozart received a commission
to write a cantata for a Viennese festival; being short of time, he
took the Kyrie and Gloria from the above mass, expanded them into five
movements, added four new ones, and fitted them all out with Italian
texts selected from the Psalms of David. In this form the work was
presented at the Burg Theater, March 13th, under the title _Davidde
Penitente_. It contains ten numbers, consisting of choruses, soprano
and tenor arias and a terzetto, the tenth number, a final chorus and
fugue, being called the ‘queen of vocal fugues’ by the critics of
the time. This cantata is regarded as one of the finest examples of
Mozart’s church style, notwithstanding the brilliant character of the
solo parts, especially the bravura aria for soprano (_Fra le oscure
ombre_).

The Masonic Cantatas.--Mozart became a Mason soon after he arrived in
Vienna in 1784 and he entered into the activities of the fraternity
with great ardor. The following year he composed a small cantata, _Die
Maurerfreude_ (‘The Mason’s Joy’), for tenor and chorus, in honor of
the master of his lodge, Herr Born. The second Masonic cantata,[63]
_Lob der Freundschaft_ (‘Praise of Friendship’), was finished November
15th, 1791, only three weeks before his death. This work, which is on
a larger scale than its predecessor, but less earnest in spirit, is
pleasing and popular and consists of six numbers--two choruses, two
recitatives, a tenor aria, and a duet. It was Mozart’s last completed
composition. Two days after its performance at his lodge his last
illness attacked him.


                                   VI

In the second period of Anglican Church music, beginning after the
restoration of the Stuarts in 1660, a distinct change in the character
of anthem-writing is discernible. This was inaugurated by Pelham
Humfrey (1647-1674), whose foreign study under Lulli and later in Italy
brought him in touch with the greater freedom of the operatic style.
In his church music and that of his immediate successors there is
noticeable greater variety of plan and detail, more daring harmonies,
more easy grace in the flow of voice-parts, and in general a faint
echo at least of the brilliance reflected from the stage. The Italian
art of solo-singing began to force its way into the domain of church
music, adding relief and contrast to the severity of the old motet type
of ‘full’ anthem. This style culminated in Henry Purcell (1658-1695),
probably the most gifted and certainly the most versatile genius that
English music has produced. In his hands the modern form of the anthem,
as differentiated from the old motet, became clearly defined. Purcell,
trained in the Chapel Royal and himself a ‘most distinguished singer,’
gave large emphasis to the ‘verse’ and ‘solo’ anthems, and these grew
rapidly in favor. Although an operatic composer of profound ability,
in many respects far in advance of his time, his religious music shows
no trace of undue influence from this secular source, and many of his
anthems[64] and ‘services’ are still cherished as among the finest
examples of English church music of any period.

During the latter part of the seventeenth century instrumental music
in England took on new importance, and its influence was felt in all
branches of the art. Orchestral instruments were frequently employed in
the ritual-music in addition to the organ, which instrument, it should
be added, was far behind the German organ of this period in mechanical
development and technical possibilities. Purcell wrote trumpet parts
to his celebrated Te Deum and composed as many as twenty anthems
with orchestra (besides over thirty with organ). His instrumental
accompaniments began to assume quite independent outlines and his
choruses were of such fine workmanship that Handel, who was thoroughly
acquainted with his church music, gladly acknowledged his indebtedness
to him. Other noted composers of anthems of this period were Dr. John
Blow (1648-1708), William Croft (1678-1727), and Jeremiah Clarke
(1670-1707), all of whom were choristers in the Chapel Royal and were
brought up and trained in the atmosphere of the cathedral service.

No accession to the form of the anthem has been made since the
beginning of the eighteenth century. All the forms now in use--the
full, the verse, the solo--were well established in the public esteem
and the old unaccompanied style had been permanently abandoned in favor
of instrumental accompaniment. The eighteenth century was a period
of general religious and intellectual apathy and this condition of
thought brooded over English church-music. After the spontaneous and
melodious Purcell, the compositions of the best church musicians of the
eighteenth and first half of the nineteenth centuries (constituting
the third period of English church-music) sound dry and perfunctory,
although admirable in construction and solid and worthy in content.
If we except the Te Deums and anthems of Handel, this period presents
nothing of striking worth. The composers of this period, the best of
whose anthems are still to be found in the repertory of present-day
choirs, include Maurice Greene (1696?-1755), William Hayes (1706-1777),
William Boyce (1710-1779), and Jonathan Battishill (1738-1801), whose
‘Call to Remembrance’ is a work of eminent beauty, modern in conception
beyond its time.

English psalmody of the eighteenth century, both among the
Non-conformists and in the Established Church, had likewise fallen
into melancholy ways. Although the good old solid psalm-tunes were
still in the Psalters, the interest in them declined, the number in
actual use gradually dwindled, the singing became dry and perfunctory,
and the curious custom of ‘lining out’ the psalms became general.
Especially in the Non-conformist services frivolous tunes were employed
which smacked of the Italian opera style; and vocal flourishes were
introduced in which several tones would be sung to a single syllable.
But in the Church of England the gradual rise of the hymn to an
independent place in the Psalter at the very beginning of the century
served to keep alive the pure flame of sacred song and to inaugurate
the long-delayed period of real English hymnody, a full century and a
half after the corresponding outburst of sacred song among the Germans.
Gawthorn’s _Harmonica Perfecta_ of 1730 included a large portion of
the fine psalm-tunes of the Ravenscroft Psalter, together with some
older ones and many new ones. These new hymn-tunes were in the main
as solid and satisfying as the best of the old psalm-tunes, yet with
more rhythmic freedom. The Church of England, however, was slow to
give full recognition to the hymn, the first church hymn-book for
general use (Madan’s ‘Collection of Psalms and Hymns,’ better known
as the Lock Hospital Collection) not being published until 1769. The
devotional hymns of Watts and Doddridge were just beginning to reach
the public heart, when they received a magnificent accession from
the Wesleyan movement, which, starting in the middle of the century,
took full advantage of the liberty of worship newly conferred upon
non-conformists and brought into English religious life something
of the enthusiasm of the old German Reformation days. A revival of
spiritual life took place in sections of England that let loose a great
creative force of sacred verse and song, which operated not only to
swell the ranks of Methodism with converts whose hearts were filled
with exuberant song, but to bring into England real congregational
singing and into English hymnody some of its richest gems of sacred
lyrics. Thus the century closed with a distinct uplift in the religious
song of the people, which did not bear full fruit in the Church of
England, however, till the dawning years of the next century.


                                   VII

After the glories of the Palestrina epoch, in which all forms of
ecclesiastical music attained their highest point of perfection, the
motet led a rather checkered existence. The English contemporaries of
the great Roman had cultivated it with such success that the _cantiones
sacræ_ (collections of Latin motets) of Tallis and Byrd are held to be
second only to those of Palestrina himself. We have seen that the full
anthem with English words superseded the Latin motet in the service of
the Anglican Church, but, though the name was changed, the true motet
style persisted until the Restoration; indeed, many of the anthems
were actually written as Latin motets and afterward adapted to English
words, as, for example, Byrd’s _Civitas sancti tui_, which is always
sung to the words ‘Bow thine ear, O Lord.’ The last of the great motet
writers in the Roman school were Vittoria, Morales, the two Anerios,
the two Naninis, Luca Marenzio, and Suriano, all of whom closely
approached the excellence of Palestrina’s superb motets; Orlandus
Lassus sustained the reputation of the Netherlanders throughout his
long career; while in Venice Willaert, de Rore, the two Gabrielis, and
Giovanni Croce, the greatest of this school, produced compositions
of wonderful delicacy and beauty. But after the first quarter of the
seventeenth century the splendor of motet-writing disappeared. The
solidity and grandeur of the old style of mass, motet, and madrigal
were thoroughly undermined by the secularity of the monodic style,
which now became all-pervasive. The same influences, in slightly
varying degrees, crept into Catholic and Protestant church music
alike. The rapid development of instrumental music toward the latter
part of this century brought about the abandonment of unaccompanied
motets in favor of those with instrumental accompaniment, and at the
same time the modern major and minor keys gradually supplanted the
old ecclesiastical modes. In Italy the best composers--Alessandro
Scarlatti, Pergolesi, Durante, Leo, and others--strove earnestly to
reconcile the new style with church ideals and succeeded in producing
effective works, though by no means always churchly.

The strongest motet writing of the eighteenth century, however,
flourished in Germany. Many of the motets of the early German
Protestant composers were simple polyphonic adaptations of chorales,
and in the seventeenth century a simple, often trivial, style
prevailed, but in the opening years of the eighteenth century a group
of composers appeared who strove to revive the solid, elaborate style
of the earlier masters. Beginning with Reinhard Keiser (1674-1739) and
continued by Karl Heinrich Graun (1701-1759) and Johann Adolph Hasse
(1699-1783), a Catholic composer of attractive style, this movement
culminated in Sebastian Bach (1685-1750), who clothed the motet in all
the dignity and elaborateness of the old sixteenth century period.
His motets represent the most perfect type of unaccompanied music in
the Protestant church-service, as Palestrina’s do in the Roman, and
in their way are quite as incomparable. Bach wrote about 200 motets,
among the best-known of which are _Komm, Jesu, komm_ (‘Come, Jesu,
come’), _Jesu, meine Freude_ (‘Jesu, priceless treasure’), _Nun ist
das Heil_ (‘Now shall the grace’), and _Singet dem Herrn_ (‘Sing ye to
the Lord’). A score of others equally fine might easily be mentioned.
The motets of Handel, which have only in recent years been snatched
from obscurity by the German Handel Society, are works of transcendent
beauty, full of youthful vigor and strength, and worthy of his best
period.

The madrigal also participated in the common ruin that befell the
old polyphonic style, and after 1620 the true madrigal practically
disappeared. In Italy it was displaced by the interest in the new
chamber-cantata; it was wholly forgotten in Flanders and France;
in England it merged into the glee; and in Germany the rise of the
part-song compensated somewhat for its disappearance.


      [Illustration: St. Thomas’ Church, Leipzig, in Bach’s Time]
                       _From on old print_


The glee[65] is a form peculiar to England, having a certain
native folk-song flavor and quite impossible of transplantation; no
other country except, to a degree, America, has bestowed on it any
attention at all. A whole century separates its appearance from the
decline of the madrigal. The intervening transitional style is well
illustrated by the lovely canzonets of Thomas Ford (about 1580-1648),
such as ‘Since first I saw your face’ and ‘There is a Ladie sweete and
kind,’ which breathe something of the spirit of both madrigal and glee.
Unlike the madrigal, the glee is always sung by solo voices, usually
male, of which there are at least three, but, like the madrigal, it is
always unaccompanied. The first glees were produced in the early years
of the eighteenth century, and the period of its finest achievement
includes the years between 1750 and 1825, a period which is almost
exactly contemporaneous with the long life of the greatest master
of this form, Samuel Webbe (1740-1816). The more obvious traits of
the glee that distinguish it from the madrigal are (1) the modern
major and minor system of keys instead of ecclesiastical modes, (2)
absence of conscious contrapuntal development in the treatment of the
voice-parts and the consequent frequent employment of chord-masses,
(3) short phrases with frequent full cadences, and (4) greater freedom
in changes of rhythm and rate of speed. Notwithstanding these general
characteristics, there are many real glees, such as Stevens’ ‘Ye
spotted snakes,’ that exhibit a high quality of melodic development,
sustained power, and constructional design. While not intended to be
contrapuntal, the glee maintains a high degree of melodic independence
among the parts, so that the impression given is that of several
interweaving melodies. Among the finest specimens of glees are ‘When
winds breathe soft,’ ‘The mighty conqueror,’ ‘Come live with me,’ and
‘Hence, all ye vain delights’ by Samuel Webbe; ‘Ye spotted snakes,’
‘Blow, blow, thou winter wind,’ and ‘Sigh no more, ladies’ by Richard
Stevens (1757-1837); ‘By Celia’s arbour,’ ‘Mine be a cot,’ and ‘Cold is
Cadwallo’s tongue’ by William Horsley (1774-1858). In addition to the
above the principal glee composers are: John Wall Calcott (1766-1821),
Thomas Attwood (1765-1838), Jonathan Bittishill (1738-1801), Benjamin
Cooke (1734-1793), John Danby (1757-1798), Reginald Spoffarth
(1770-1827), and Sir Henry Bishop (1786-1855).

While in a strict sense all the vocal forms thus far mentioned are
part-songs, in choral literature this term is restricted to apply only
to those unaccompanied vocal compositions in which one melody stands
out conspicuously, all the others being more in the nature of harmonic
background. In this respect it differs sharply from the glee, though in
general musical mood the two forms may be very similar. The part-song
has its origin in Germany, where from early times the custom prevailed
of giving simple harmonic setting to the folk-songs,[66] usually note
against note. Modelled largely after the harmonized folk-songs, secular
part-songs in profusion were written by German composers, particularly
after the decline of the madrigal. As an importation from Germany the
part-song was heartily welcomed in England, where it was cultivated
side by side with the madrigal, the two forms often presenting many
points of similarity and constantly reacting on each other. The great
madrigalists wrote many such compositions (which they frequently called
canzonets) on the borderland between the two forms. Such are Morley’s
‘My bonny lass she smileth’ and ‘Now is the month of Maying,’ and
the canzonets of Thomas Ford mentioned above. The eighteenth-century
part-song in England is, on the whole, unimportant; in Germany its
chief value after 1800 lay in the incentive and impetus it gave to the
formation of numerous choral societies and in the resultant diffusion
of choral culture. The real glories of the part-song belong to the
nineteenth century. Before that period the three principal secular _a
cappella_ vocal forms may be thus briefly characterized: the madrigal,
as the secular counterpart of the motet, is modal and contrapuntal; the
glee is harmonic, devoid of strict counterpoint, but all the voices are
melodically interesting; the part-song is harmonic, but concentrates
the melodic interest in one part, usually the highest.

Before passing to the consideration of nineteenth-century choral
music, it remains to give brief mention to two other forms, the masque
and the ode, both of which are characteristically English and belong
essentially to the seventeenth century. The masque occupied a place
midway between the cantata and the opera, and enjoyed great popularity
at court and among the aristocratic classes as a kind of private
entertainment from the time of the early Tudors to the Civil War.
Originally an importation from Italy, it received special development
at the hands of the best English poets--Ben Jonson, Fletcher, Chapman,
Campion, Milton, and others. It was an elaborate dramatic entertainment
based on some mythological or allegorical subject, calling for
dialogue, declamation, airs, madrigals, much dancing, and gorgeous
scenery and costume, and performed for the most part by personages of
high rank in disguise, whence the name. The best English composers of
the seventeenth century gave their talents to the writing of masque
music--Nicholas Lanier, Matthew Locke, Pelham Humfrey, Henry Purcell,
John Eccles, and, in the next century, Dr. Thomas Arne. The ode also
found much favor with the English seventeenth and eighteenth-century
poets, such as Milton, Dryden, Gray, and Collins, but the composer
whose name is most closely allied with it is Henry Purcell (about
1658-1695), who alone wrote twenty-nine odes and welcome songs for
various public and royal occasions, among them four for St. Cecilia’s
Day festivals and four in consecutive years (1690-1693) for Queen
Mary’s birthday. Handel wrote four--‘Alexander’s Feast,’ ‘Ode for St.
Cecilia’s Day,’ ‘Birthday Ode,’ and _L’Allegro ed il Penseroso_,[67]
two of which have been already analyzed.


                              FOOTNOTES:

[49] Peri’s first opera, _Dafne_, composed in collaboration with
Caccini, had been privately performed in Florence in 1597 (1594?).

[50] The success of Cavalieri’s _La Rappresentazione_ was apparently
swallowed up by the greater interest in the success of opera, so that
twenty years elapsed before a second oratorio was written.

[51] ‘History of Music,’ Vol. IV, p. 144.

[52] ‘Oxford History of Music,’ Vol. III, p. 153.

[53] The library of the Paris Conservatoire alone possesses eight
volumes of his cantatas in MS.

[54] Grove’s ‘Dictionary of Music and Musicians,’ Art. ‘Scarlatti,’ by
E. J. Dent.

[55] ‘Oxford History of Music,’ Vol. III, p. 393.

[56] For example, Beethoven’s _Ah, perfido!_ and Mendelssohn’s
_Infelice_.

[57] Andreas Hammerschmidt published ‘Dialogues between God and the
Believing Soul’ (Dresden, 1647) for various groups of voices from two
up to six.

[58] Mattheson, _Das beschütze Orchestre_, p. 142.

[59] Philipp Spitta, ‘The Life of Johann Sebastian Bach,’ Vol. I, p.
484.

[60] _Op. cit._, Vol. I, p. 486.

[61] Bach seldom used the word ‘cantata,’ preferring the terms
‘concerto’ and ‘dialogue.’

[62] Dickinson, ‘Music in the History of the Western Church,’ p. 301.

[63] Catalogued in Köchel, _Eine kleine Freimauer Cantate_.

[64] Among them are ‘O give thanks,’ ‘O God Thou hast cast us out,’ and
‘O Lord God of Hosts.’

[65] This word is derived from the Anglo-Saxon _gligg_--‘music,’ and
has no direct relation to the specific mood of mirth or gaiety. The
glee, therefore, may be either cheerful or serious.

[66] Similarly in Italy the _villanella_ was a harmonized popular
melody, but it failed to exert any further influence on choral forms.

[67] This is called an oratorio in the list of the German Handel
Society.




                               CHAPTER V

                 THE CANTATA IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

     Conflict of tradition and progress--Ludwig van Beethoven:
     ‘Ruins of Athens,’ ‘Glorious Moment’; Andreas Romberg--C.
     M. von Weber; Franz Schubert; Ludwig Spohr--Mendelssohn:
     ‘First Walpurgis Night,’ etc.; 95th Psalm; _Lauda Sion_,
     etc.--Hector Berlioz: ‘Damnation of Faust’--Robert Schumann:
     ‘Paradise and the Peri’; ‘Pilgrimage of the Rose’;
     Miscellany--Ferdinand Hiller; Niels W. Gade: ‘Crusaders,’
     ‘Erl-King’s Daughter,’ ‘Christmas Eve,’ ‘Comala,’
     etc.--Félicien David: ‘The Desert’; Minor cantata writers
     in Germany and England: Benedict, Costa, Macfarren, Smart,
     Bennett--Anglican ritual-music and the German evangelical
     motet in the nineteenth century; the part-song.


The student of history will observe that one of the most noticeable
effects of the constantly accelerated pace that musical progress
assumed after the art had once learned definite articulation, is that
the successive periods in which characteristic styles and forms have
been developed and perfected have been growing steadily shorter and
shorter in duration. The Netherland period of vocal polyphony spanned
two full centuries; the next century and a half was concerned with the
first stage in the development of dramatic music and oratorio, and
with the application of polyphonic principles to instrumental forms;
the period of seventy-five years between 1750 and 1825 was memorable
chiefly by the appearance and swift development of the sonata and
symphony from Haydn to Beethoven, with occasional premonitions of
impending revolutionary changes; the half-century from 1825 to 1875
witnessed the rise and full flowering of the remarkable movement of
nineteenth-century romanticism; in the years since 1875 new ideas and
tendencies, unfolded from the preceding period, have crowded upon the
musical arena in such profusion and with such swiftness and persistence
that intelligent orientation is beset with perplexing difficulties. The
‘youngest of the arts,’ so backward and slow of speech in its infancy,
certainly displays unmistakable symptoms of precocity with advancing
years.

From the above statement of the approximate duration of the general
periods of musical progress it will be noted that the nineteenth
century is divisible into three periods, the first of which merely
carried to completion the classical methods of the preceding century.
But, while instrumental music responded promptly and vigorously and
with far-reaching results to the novel ideals of romanticism, choral
music was far more conservative. It exhibited the utmost reserve toward
the new influences, and for several decades after these had brought
enrichment and expansion to instrumental forms, it admitted them only
with a certain timidity, so that on the whole the effective invasion
of choral music by romanticism was delayed a full half-century after
it had taken possession of instrumental fields. This retardation of
choral progress is due largely to the natural limitations of the human
voice, which is confronted with obvious difficulties when attempting
to adopt for its own peculiar purposes the instrumental standpoint
of unrestrained liberty in the use of melodic intervals and harmonic
progressions. Choral forms have generally proved to be far less
elastic than instrumental forms, and have had to contend with the
tendency toward inertia inherited from their early association with
ecclesiastical traditions--traditions from which the development
of instrumental music has been notably free. Hence, a much longer
period was required in choral music than in instrumental music for
readjustment to the new viewpoint which nineteenth-century romanticism
injected into the whole fabric of art-methods, and the choral
literature of the century falls into only two periods. The great
majority of the choral works--particularly the smaller choral works--of
the first two thirds of the century at least are characterized by
general conformity with the classical methods of Handel, Haydn,
and Mozart; where romantic influences are admitted they express
themselves in terms of greater harmonic warmth and richness, freer
melodic outlines, and a more marked avoidance of the older special
contrapuntal devices in favor of more direct mood-painting and detailed
characterization of the text, but the classical forms and methods are
quite uniformly retained.


                                   I

Beethoven’s (1770-1827) contribution to the literature of choral music
was relatively small and the most significant part of it was made in
the larger forms, as might be expected of a composer possessed of
such mighty intellectual endowments. Of the smaller works, two only
are selected for detailed comment. The others include ‘Calm Sea and
Prosperous Voyage’ (to Goethe’s poem) for mixed chorus and orchestra,
written in 1815, and ‘King Stephen, Hungary’s First Benefactor,’ a
prologue in one act with overture and choruses, the music for which was
composed in 1811 to the text by Kotzebue for the same occasion as ‘The
Ruins of Athens.’

‘The Ruins of Athens.’--The music to an allegorical poem with this
title by Kotzebue was written in 1811 for the opening of a new theatre
at Pesth, Hungary, which took place February 9, 1812. The story of the
poem is as follows: Minerva, having incurred the wrath of Jove, has
been fettered by him with chains ever since the Golden Age within a
rock through which neither the inquiry of man nor the wisdom of the
goddess could penetrate. Finally Jove relents and releases the goddess.
Minerva then hastens to her beloved Athens, only to find it in ruins
and her art debased. She turns sadly away and proceeds to Pesth, where
she establishes her temple in the new theatre and presides over a
triumphal procession in honor of the emperor, its patron, who is to
restore again the Golden Age. The work was presented a second time in
Beethoven’s lifetime at the opening of a new theatre in Vienna in 1822.
This time it was with a new text by Carl Meisl entitled _Die Weihe des
Hauses_ (‘Dedication of the House’), and it was for this occasion that
Beethoven composed the overture, which is still frequently performed.
The music consists of eight numbers. The overture is very light and
deemed even by his friends to be unworthy of the master. The weird,
fervid chorus of the Dervishes for male voices in unison and the
stirring Turkish March are strongly Oriental in color and treatment.
They are strong and effective numbers, as is also the triumphal march
and chorus ‘Twine ye a garland.’

‘The Glorious Moment.’--September, 1814, brought to Vienna many
potentates and distinguished statesmen for the Vienna Congress, which
met to adjust the claims of the European states after the allies had
entered Paris. The occasion was a momentous one and was celebrated
with great pomp by the Viennese authorities. Beethoven was requested
to write for the greeting of the royal guests a cantata, the words of
which had been written by Dr. Aloys Weissenbach of Salzburg. It was
called _Der glorreiche Augenblick_ or _Der heilige Augenblick_ (‘The
Glorious Moment’). The time for writing this work was short in itself
and this was much curtailed by disputes between composer and poet,
as Beethoven made every effort to have the atrocious text altered so
as to lend itself better to a musical setting. The work was begun in
September and performed at a concert given for Beethoven’s benefit on
November 29th, before a remarkable audience of 6,000 persons. This
concert, at which was performed also the recently-composed Seventh
Symphony, was a most brilliant affair, and the audience was wildly
enthusiastic, especially for ‘The Glorious Moment,’ which was hailed as
symbolical of the moment when Europe was to be freed from Napoleonic
domination. Incidentally, it may be recorded that the composer reaped
much substantial advantage from this great occasion, in that, as a
result, he was able to invest 20,000 marks in shares of the Bank of
Austria. The cantata, which for obvious reasons is not one of his
strongest, is in six numbers. In 1836 it appeared with a new title,
_Preis der Tonkunst_ (‘The Praise of Music’), with a new poetical text
by Friedrich Rochlitz.

       *       *       *       *       *

Among the composers of the first quarter of the nineteenth century
Andreas Romberg (1767-1821) occupies a worthy place, though not one of
large importance. He is the composer of five operas, ten symphonies,
twenty violin concertos, etc., now forgotten, much church music, and
several cantatas. The ‘Lay of the Bell’ (_Das Lied von der Glocke_) was
the most widely known of all his works, and at present is nearly the
only one of them to retain any public notice.

‘The Lay of the Bell.’--Schiller’s famous poem with this title forms
the text to which Romberg composed the music of this cantata in 1808.
During the last half of the nineteenth century it enjoyed great
popularity with the smaller choruses in England, Germany, and America,
and is still frequently heard. The work rehearses the various steps in
the making of the bell, from lighting the furnace-fire and mixing the
metals to the casting of the bell and the breaking of the mold by the
master. Each step is used as the basis for the description of scenes
which the bell will witness in its life among the people--scenes of
youth, young manhood, and old age, of joy and love and sorrow--all the
intimate experiences that make up human life. The music is written for
mixed chorus, with soprano, tenor, and bass solos, and, while it lacks
the harmonic warmth and variety of the cantatas written later under
the glow of the romantic spirit, it is full of interest and animation,
though light in style throughout.


                                   II

As the founder of the German romantic movement, Weber (1786-1826) was
an intense nationalist, and his stirring music, folk-song in character
and wholly German in feeling, had a profound political influence in
fanning the flame of national and patriotic sentiment that sprang into
existence during the period of Napoleonic oppression. His inspiring
settings of the patriotic poems in Körner’s _Leyer und Schwert_, for
male voices, made him the idol of the students and young nationalists,
and _Der Freischütz_, the first German opera, created a perfect furor
of patriotic feeling. His first cantata was _Der erste Ton_, written in
1808 for declamation, chorus, and orchestra. Other choral works were
the cantata _Natur und Liebe_ (‘Nature and Love’) for two sopranos, two
tenors, and two basses with pianoforte accompaniment, composed in 1818,
and the hymn _In seiner Ordung schafft der Herr_ (‘In constant order
works the Lord’) for solos, chorus, and orchestra, written in 1812.

‘Jubilee Cantata.’--Weber was commissioned by Count Vitzthum in 1818
to write a grand jubilee cantata for a court concert commemorating
the fiftieth anniversary of the reign of Friedrich August, king of
Saxony, on the 20th of September. The text was written by the poet
Friedrich Kind. Before it was completed, however, he was informed
that the work would not be required and that other plans had been
made. It has been intimated that this change came about through the
intrigues of his Italian rivals (he was then Court Musical Director at
Dresden). The cantata, however, was given in the Neustadt church for
the benefit of the needy peasants in the Hartz Mountains, with Weber
himself as conductor. While it is said that a _Jubel_ overture by
Weber was performed at the court concert, it is believed by the best
authorities that the famous _Jubel_ overture, now known the world over,
was entirely independent of the cantata and of later composition. As
the original text dealt with events in the life of the king, the work
was unsuited for general performance, hence a second text was later
supplied by Amadeus Wendt and the title changed to _Ernte-Cantate_
(‘Harvest Cantata’). This is the version in common use at the present
time. Still another text was made by Hampdon Napier, and this was given
in London under the title of ‘The Festival of Peace’ shortly before
Weber’s death, the composer himself conducting. The cantata is written
for four solo voices, chorus, and orchestra. Joy at the fullness of the
harvest alternates with solemn thanksgiving and praise to the Giver
of all good for His bounty. A devotional spirit prevails throughout,
except in the ‘storm’ chorus, where a dramatic style appears. The
beautiful number for quartet and chorus, ‘Wreathe into garlands the
gold of the harvest,’ is frequently detached from the cantata and
performed separately.

_Kampf und Sieg_ (‘Battle and Victory’).--While Weber was in Munich
in June, 1815, the victory of the allies at Waterloo was announced.
The city was at once filled with rejoicing and a large crowd gathered
at St. Michael’s Church to hear a _Te Deum_. Weber, who was present,
conceived the idea of a grand cantata to commemorate the victory and
he laid the matter before the poet Wohlbrück, whom he had met the same
day. Wohlbrück at once shared the composer’s enthusiasm and by the
first of August the text was ready. The cantata was brought to a first
performance in Prague on December 22d and made a deep impression, not
so much by its musical worth as by its appeal to patriotic ardor and by
the stirring military character of its vivid battle-descriptions. Weber
resorted to the same elements of rather vulgar realism which Beethoven
invoked in his ‘Wellington’s Victory’--the noises and crash of battle
and national melodies to designate the fighting hosts. Amid the roar of
cannon, the cries of the wounded, and the shouts of the soldiers can
be heard the revolutionary melody _Ça ira_ from the advancing French,
‘God save the King’ from the English, while the stirring strains of
the Austrian and Prussian grenadier marches and the refrain from
Weber’s own patriotic song, _Lützow’s wilde Jagd_, swell the volume of
tumultuous sound from the victorious allies. The cantata is written for
four solo voices, chorus, and orchestra. Faith (bass), Love (soprano),
and Hope (tenor) appear in the lyrical portions of the work; the middle
section is given over entirely to the battle scene and the whole closes
with a stately chorus, _Herr Gott, Dich loben wir_.

       *       *       *       *       *

While Franz Schubert (1797-1828) essayed nearly every musical form,
it is as the creator and perfecter of the German art-song that he
takes his place among the great and mighty ones of music. His supreme
gift as a melodist and song-writer is at once apparent in all of his
works. In choral fields he wrote considerable church music and several
smaller works, of which the only one of large importance is _Miriam’s
Siegesgesang_ (‘The Song of Miriam’). Among the others are the
Ninety-second Psalm for baritone solo and mixed chorus (written in 1828
for the synagogue at Vienna); the Twenty-third Psalm for four voices
(quartet, or male or female chorus) with pianoforte accompaniment,
easy, grateful and song-like in character; two hymns, _Herr unser Gott_
and _An dem Heiligen Geist_, the latter for eight-part male chorus
and orchestra; and _Glaube, Hoffnung und Liebe_ (‘Faith, Hope, and
Charity’) for mixed chorus and wood-wind instruments, written in 1816.

_Miriam’s Siegesgesang._--This noble cantata, known in English as
‘The Song of Miriam’ or ‘Miriam’s War Song,’ was composed by Schubert
in March, 1828, the last year of his short life. It was written for
soprano solo and chorus to Grillparzer’s lines paraphrasing the part of
the sixteenth chapter of Exodus that sets forth Miriam’s thanksgiving
for the escape of the Israelites and the people’s song of triumph
as they rejoice over their own deliverance and the destruction of
the pursuing Egyptians. Schubert left it with only a pianoforte
accompaniment, though intending to score it for orchestra. What death
prevented him from doing was supplied a year or two later by his friend
Franz Lachner, who at the time was kapellmeister at the Kärnthnerthor
Theatre in Vienna. The date of its first performance is in doubt.
Nottebohm gives it as January 30, 1829, the occasion being a benefit
concert to raise funds for a monument in memory of the composer. A
spirited solo and chorus (‘Strike the cymbals’) opens the work. This
is followed by a graceful song in which the Lord is described as a
shepherd leading his people out of Egypt. In the next number the awe of
the Israelites is depicted as they pass unharmed through the divided
waters, while Pharaoh’s hosts are engulfed behind them. The sea becomes
calm again and the first chorus is repeated, closing with a majestic
fugue (‘Mighty is the Lord at all times’). Though the cantata is short,
it is replete with passages of enduring charm.

       *       *       *       *       *

Ludwig Spohr (1784-1859), the celebrated violinist and composer of
instrumental music and operas in a style intermediate between the old
classical and the new romantic schools, left much choral music which,
however, has quite largely lost its early vogue. In the shorter forms
are three psalms for solos and double chorus; the Twenty-fourth Psalm
for solos and chorus with pianoforte; the One Hundred and Twenty-eighth
Psalm for solos and chorus with organ or pianoforte; the Eighty-fourth
Psalm (Milton) for solos, chorus, and orchestra; two hymns--‘St.
Cecilia’ for soprano solo and chorus, and ‘God, thou art great’ (_Gott,
du bist gross_) for solos, chorus, and orchestra; and a patriotic
cantata, _Das befreite Deutschland_ (‘Free Germany’).


                                   III

Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy (1809-1847) was the first composer since
Handel to rival him in the mastery of choral forms. Gifted and genial
as he is in other fields, it is here that he has left the most enduring
evidence of his genius. His fine contrapuntal training and his splendid
mastery over all the technical resources of polyphonic writing made
choral forms especially agreeable to his natural and developed gifts.
In general form his choral works follow Handelian models, but his
melodies are far more glowing and his harmonies far richer and of
warmer texture. Most of his smaller choral works fall under the head
of church music. These comprise several anthems and other ritual-music
for the Anglican service, the fruit of his long and intimate relations
with English musical life, some fine motets (especially the three
for female voices written in 1830 for the convent of _Trinità de’
Monti_ in Rome, namely, _Veni Domine_, _Laudate Pueri_, and _Surrexit
Pastor_, and the great eight-part motet, ‘Judge me, O God’), several
compositions for the Berlin Cathedral, hymns, and nine psalms. He is
the first composer in the nineteenth century to give to the psalm the
same breadth and seriousness of treatment accorded to the larger choral
forms. They rise to the dignity of important works, though all are not
equally beautiful. They are: Psalms 115 (‘Not unto us, O Lord’) and 95
(‘O come let us worship’) for solos, chorus, and orchestra; Psalm 114
(‘When Israel out of Egypt came’) for eight-part chorus and orchestra;
Psalm 98 (‘Sing to the Lord’) for eight-part chorus and orchestra,
written for the festival service in the Berlin Cathedral on New Year’s
Day, 1844; Psalm 42 (‘As the hart pants’) for soprano solo, chorus,
and organ; Psalms 2, 22, and 47 for eight-part _a cappella_ chorus,
written for the Berlin Cathedral; and Psalm 13 (‘Lord, how long wilt
Thou forget me’) for alto solo and chorus. The 42d and 95th are the
finest of the psalms; the others are seldom performed now. The hymn,
‘Hear my prayer,’ for soprano solo, chorus, and organ, closing with
the familiar ‘O for the wings of a dove,’ is one of the most beautiful
of Mendelssohn’s devotional inspirations, and has enjoyed, and still
enjoys, great popularity with both choirs and choral societies.

‘The First Walpurgis Night.’--While Mendelssohn was travelling in
Italy in 1831 he composed music to Goethe’s poem ‘The First Walpurgis
Night,’ the dramatic intensity of which made a deep impression on the
young composer; but it was not until February 2, 1843, that it was
publicly performed at Leipzig, and then much altered from the original
draft. St. Walpurgis, to whom May-day eve was dedicated, was an early
missionary who had brought Christianity to the Druids of Saxony.
The scene of the cantata is the summit of the Brocken and the time
May-day eve, when the Druids, taking advantage of the old Northern
myth that on this eve the witches hold high revels here, gather to
celebrate their rites, while their sentinels, disguised as demons,
scare away the Christians with wild gesticulations, clashes of arms,
and hideous noises. The music belongs to Mendelssohn’s most important
and significant work. The overture, graphically depicting the passage
from winter to spring, is followed by a tenor solo and a chorus of
Druids, breathing the atmosphere of spring. Next comes a dramatic
alto solo, uttering a warning, and after it a stately exhortation by
the Druid priest. There ensues a whispering chorus, portraying the
sentinels as they quietly take their places. A guard then discloses
the plan for frightening away intruders. This leads to a chorus in
which the composer uses most grotesque musical effects, both vocal and
instrumental, to picture the infernal scene. This weird chaos gives way
to an impressive hymn for bass solo and chorus. Following this comes
the terrified cry of the Christians, who are driven away, while the
Druids and their priest chant a closing hymn of praise.

‘As the Hart Pants.’--Mendelssohn’s setting of the Forty-second Psalm
was first presented at a Gewandhaus concert in Leipzig in 1838. It is
smaller in form than the ‘Walpurgis Night,’ but is symmetrical and
artistic. A sustained introduction leads to a chorus, tender and full
of passionate longing, ‘As the hart pants after the water brooks, so
panteth my soul for Thee, O God,’ in which the highest point among
the choral portions of the work is reached. A beautiful adagio melody
is given out by the oboe and repeated as a soprano solo, ‘For my soul
thirsteth for God.’ The third number, ‘My tears have been my meat,’
given as a soprano recitative, leads to a march-like chorus for women’s
voices, ‘For I had gone with the multitude.’ The male voices then sing
in unison ‘Why, my soul, art thou cast down?’ and the female voices
answer, ‘Trust thou in God.’ A pathetic soprano recitative follows,
beginning ‘O my God! My soul is cast down within me.’ The eighth number
is sung by a male quartet with string accompaniment, ‘The Lord will
command His loving-kindness in the daytime,’ a beautiful response full
of hope and consolation; while through it is heard the saddening strain
of the soprano. The closing full chorus repeats the fourth number,
‘Trust thou in God,’ more elaborately developed, and ending in a pæan
of praise to God. This Psalm-cantata is one of the finest as well as
most frequently performed of Mendelssohn’s shorter choral works and
breathes throughout a deeply religious feeling couched in terms of
refined romantic sentiment.

‘Come Let Us Sing’ (95th Psalm).--The first performance of this psalm,
which is written for tenor solo, chorus, and orchestra, took place at
Leipzig on February 21, 1839. It opens with a solo, ‘O come, let us
worship,’ the theme of which is immediately taken up and developed by
the chorus in jubilant tone, but which sinks at the end to a quiet
mood. A solo soprano voice then enunciates the words, ‘Come, let us
sing to the Lord,’ and this theme is treated fugally by the chorus
in a joyous allegro movement, closing with a strong two-part canon
in the octave for the male and female voices. The third number is a
graceful duet, ‘In His hands,’ for two sopranos, which is followed by
a stately fugal chorus, ‘For His is the sea,’ at the end of which the
opening section of the first chorus appears with antiphonal phrases
for the tenor solo. The original setting closes with the fifth number,
‘Henceforth, when ye hear His voice,’ for solo and chorus, a movement
of fine contrapuntal workmanship, closing with softest tones to the
pleading words, ‘Turn not deaf ears and hard hearts.’ An additional
number was left by Mendelssohn, written a few weeks after the first
performance, with the evident purpose of bringing the psalm to a more
complete finish. It consists of another choral setting of the words,
‘For His is the sea,’ in which the theme from the first number again
plays an important part and an atmosphere of joy and majestic power is
maintained throughout.

_Lauda Sion_ (‘Praise Jehovah’), one of Mendelssohn’s most beautiful
cantatas, for four solo voices, chorus, and orchestra, was written for
the celebration of the Festival of Corpus Christi by the Church of St.
Martin at Liège, where it was performed June 11, 1846, the composer
himself being present. The _Lauda Sion_ is a sequence (see page 15)
written by Thomas Aquinas about 1264 and is regularly sung at High Mass
on this Feast. There is a short introduction and the announcement of
the theme _Lauda Sion_ leads to a chorus _Laudis thema_, of devotional
character. In the _Sit laus plena_, phrases sung by the soprano are
repeated by the chorus. Then follows a beautiful quartet, _In hac
mensa_. A solemn chorale in unison leads to a charming soprano arioso,
_Caro cibus_. The seventh and last number is an intensely dramatic solo
and chorus, set to the closing lines of the well-known hymn. This is
Mendelssohn’s only excursion into the Catholic liturgy.

‘The Gutenberg Festival Cantata.’--Mendelssohn wrote this short
festival cantata for the fourth centennial celebration of the invention
of printing, observed at Leipzig, June 24, 1840, by the unveiling
of Gutenberg’s statue in the public square. The text was written by
Adolphus Prölsz, a teacher in the Gymnasium at Freiberg. A stately
chorale leads to ‘Fatherland! within thy confines,’ a song[68] written
in memory of Gutenberg. Next comes a spirited melody for tenors, ‘And
God said, "Let there be Light,"’ followed by a closing chorale, ‘Now,
thank God all.’

‘Antigone.’--The incidental music to Sophocles’ _Antigone_ was
composed in 1841 in the short space of eleven days, and was privately
presented at Potsdam before William IV of Prussia and his court,
October 28. Its first public performance was at Leipzig, March 5, 1842.
It was written for male chorus and orchestra and consists of seven
numbers. Although built along modern lines, Mendelssohn’s felicitous
music faithfully represents the spirit of the ancient Greek tragedy.

‘Œdipus at Colonos.’--At the command of the king of Prussia, from whom
Mendelssohn had received the commission of chapel-master in 1841, the
music to this tragedy by Sophocles was composed in 1843 and its first
presentation took place at Potsdam November 1, 1845. The music, sung by
two male choruses antiphonally, embraces nine choral numbers, preceded
by a short introduction. The third number, closing with an invocation
to Neptune by the united choruses, is the gem of the work and has few
equals in effective choral writing. It is frequently heard in detached
form on the concert stage.


                                   IV

The early romantic movement attracted to itself no more enthusiastic
disciple and energetic exponent than Hector Berlioz (1803-1869).
Indeed, he was one of the earliest and at the same time one of the most
extreme of the romanticists. Eccentric, impatient of formalism of any
kind, but gifted with an intensely vivid imagination and a prodigious
sense of color, he possessed a creative force of great originality
and spontaneity, whose effectiveness, however, was frequently marred
by its extravagance of expression. Endowed with an insatiable desire
to interline all music with some kind of a descriptive or narrative
purpose, he gave a tremendous impetus to ‘program music.’ In attempting
to find an effective medium for descriptive effort in striving after
the fantastic, he mightily developed the resources of the orchestra
and became the real founder of the modern science of orchestration;
moreover, he used his orchestra as eloquently in his choral
masterpiece, ‘The Damnation of Faust,’ as in his symphonic works.
His choral-writing came under the same romantic spell of liberation
from formalism as did his instrumental inspirations. His ‘Faust’ is
not only the first choral work, but almost the only one until near
the end of the nineteenth century, in which the romantic ideal wholly
dominates both choral and instrumental forces. If some of the choral
numbers suffer in comparison with present-day choral treatment, this
is not because of any difference of viewpoint, but because of the
inadequacy, which one sometimes feels, of the purely musical vocabulary
at his command to express fully what he felt. He frequently used the
chorus, as did Beethoven in the ‘Ninth Symphony,’ as an adjunct to his
symphonic works, but in distinctly choral forms, he left, in addition
to the ‘Faust’ and the works mentioned in Chapter VIII, the cantata
_La mort de Sardanapale_, which was completed amid the uproar of the
July Revolution, 1830, and with which he won the Grand Prix de Rome
the same year; the cantata _Le cinq mai_ for bass solo, chorus, and
orchestra, written in 1834 for the anniversary of Napoleon’s death; the
cantata _L’Impériale_, written in 1855 for the Paris Exhibition; _Sara
la Baigneuse_, a choral ballad; three youthful cantatas, _La révolution
grecque_ (1826), _Herminie_ (1828), and _La mort de Cléopatre_ (1829);
and a few occasional choruses and choral ballads.

‘The Damnation of Faust.’--This ‘dramatic legend,’ as the composer
calls it, is the aftermath of an early and immature work, ‘Eight Scenes
from Faust’ (published in 1829 as opus 1), and was composed in 1845
and ‘46, part of it here and there while on a concert tour in Austria
and Hungary, the rest in Paris. Its first performance took place at
the Opéra-Comique, Paris, December 6, 1846, under the direction of
the composer, before a wretchedly small audience and without success.
In Germany it was produced at the Royal Opera House, Berlin, June
19, 1847, Berlioz conducting. Though parts of it were frequently
given in England, the first complete performance did not take place
until February 5, 1880, at the Free Trade Hall in Manchester, when
Charles Hallé conducted it. In New York a few days later, on February
12th, it had its first American hearing under the direction of Dr.
Leopold Damrosch with the combined Oratorio and Arion Societies. ‘The
Damnation of Faust’ is undoubtedly Berlioz’s masterpiece and sums
up the best qualities of his exuberant and fantastic style. Both
instrumental and choral parts are overlaid with a wealth of romantic
and poetic coloring, the orchestration is dazzling, and the chorus is
brilliantly handled. Many of its most beautiful and effective numbers
were retained almost without alteration from his earlier ‘Eight Scenes
from Faust’--the work of a youth of twenty-five years. These include
the scene where Faust is lulled to sleep by the sylphs, the peasants’
song, the songs of the rat and the flea, the King of Thule ballad, and
Mephistopheles’ serenade.

The work, which has the dimensions of an oratorio, is divided into
four parts, the first of which contains three scenes, the second
five, the third six, and the fourth six, concluding with a short
epilogue and the apotheosis of Marguerite. The persons represented are
Marguerite (mezzo-soprano), Faust (tenor), Mephistopheles (bass), and
Brander (bass). The story does not closely follow Goethe’s version,
as the opening scene discloses Faust alone at sunrise on a plain in
Hungary, where Berlioz places him in order to have the opportunity of
introducing the Hungarian national march. He sings in tender strain
of the joys of spring and the delights of nature, but his reverie is
disturbed by a rollicking chorus and dance of peasants. From another
part of the plain come warlike sounds of an advancing army to the
stirring and brilliant music of the Rákóczy March. The troops pass and
Faust retires, unmoved by the scene. The second part opens with Faust
in North Germany, alone in his study. He voices his discontent with
the world; as he is on the point of drowning his sorrow with poison,
the tones of the Easter Hymn (‘Christ is risen from the dead’) strike
his ear. He listens in wonderment to the joyful strains and at the
end joins in the stately chorus. Repentant and exalted, he resolves
to begin anew, when Mephistopheles suddenly appears and mockingly
exclaims, ‘Sweet sentiments indeed and fit for any saint!’ Faust is
entrapped by his promises and they disappear. The next scene finds
them in Auerbach’s cellar in Leipzig amid a band of carousing students
who sing a lusty drinking song (‘Oh, it is rare when winter’s storms
are loudly roaring’). There follows the drunken Brander’s song of the
rat, at the end of which the irreverent students improvise an ironical
fugue on the word ‘Amen’ to a motive from the theme of Brander’s song.
Mephistopheles adds to the reckless merriment with the song of the flea
(‘Once on a time a king, sirs, loved a flea passing well’). Amid the
heavy bravos of the drunken students, Faust and Mephistopheles vanish,
to appear again in the next scene, the seventh, on the wooded meadows
on the banks of the Elbe. Mephistopheles sings a delightful melody
(‘Within these bowers’) and summons the spirits of earth and of air to
lull his companion to sleep. Faust slumbers while the gnomes and sylphs
sing a chorus of ravishing beauty (‘Dream, happy Faust’), closing with
an exquisitely delicate orchestral number in waltz-measure, the dance
of the sylphs. As they disappear, Faust wakes and relates his vision
of Marguerite. Mephistopheles agrees to lead him to her chamber and
on the way thither they join a band of jovial soldiers and students
marching along the street. The last scene of this part consists of
a lively soldiers’ chorus (‘Tower and wall may bar our way’) and a
characteristic Latin student-song (_Jam nox stellata_), the two being
cleverly combined at the end.

The action of the third part takes place in Marguerite’s chamber.
Faust enters and sings passionately of his love for her (‘Oh, come,
calm breathing twilight’). Mephistopheles warns him of her approach
and hides him behind a curtain. She enters and in detached phrases
tells of her vision of Faust and her love for him. While preparing
for slumber, she sings the pathetic ballad, ‘Once in far Thule.’ As
its sad strains die away, Mephistopheles summons the evil spirits
and the will-o’-the-wisps to encircle her dwelling and lure her to
her doom. Then follows the lovely dance of the will-o’-the-wisps, an
orchestral minuet which Berlioz has enriched with many a masterly touch
of tonal realism. Mephistopheles sings his sardonic serenade (‘Why,
fair maid, wilt thou linger’), with frequent choral accompaniment
by the will-o’-the-wisps, each stanza closing with a derisive ‘Ha!’
A trio (‘O purest maid’) of great dramatic power and passion brings
this part to a close. Faust and Marguerite avow their mutual love,
Mephistopheles warns them of approaching danger, while a chorus of
neighbors in the street taunts the hapless maiden. As the fourth part
opens, Marguerite, alone in her chamber, sings a sad, sweet romance,
‘Alone and heavy-hearted’ (Goethe’s familiar _Meine Ruh’ ist hin_),
at the end of which distant strains of the songs of the soldiers and
students are heard. The next scene is Faust’s solemn and powerful
invocation to Nature (‘Mysterious Nature! vast and relentless power!’).
Mephistopheles appears on the rocky scene, relates Marguerite’s crime
and imprisonment, and, playing upon Faust’s desire to rescue her,
makes him sign the contract that binds his soul to the Evil One. The
‘Ride to the Abyss’ now begins and Berlioz’s furious music, which
only for one short moment relaxes its impetuous galloping rhythm,
pictures with relentless realism the terrible scenes as the riders
pass horror-stricken peasants praying at the roadside, as they
draw into their train monstrous birds, hideous beasts, and leering
skeleton-phantoms. With a shout of triumph from Mephistopheles and a
cry of horror from Faust, they fall into the abyss, where they are
greeted by a chorus of devils (male voices), who sing in a language
invented for them by the imaginative Berlioz (_Has! Irimiru Karabrao_,
etc.). The glee and triumph of this fiendish host are uttered in
snarling tones of harshest discord, ‘the hellish laugh of fiends
exulting in their torture.’ These sounds of pandemonium are followed
by a short epilogue ‘On Earth,’ leading into an equally short one ‘In
Heaven,’ in which the seraphim plead for Marguerite. The whole work
closes with the ‘Apotheosis of Marguerite,’ in which the celestial
chorus (‘Thou ransomed soul, rest from thy sorrow!’) with joyful tones
welcomes the pardoned maiden to the realms of everlasting light.


                                   V

The achievements of Robert Schumann (1810-1856) in other fields
far outshone his choral works, yet the latter are by no means
inconsiderable in number or unimportant in quality and influence. But
he never mastered the technical details of effective choral-writing as
did Mendelssohn. Sonorous and glowing as many of his choruses are, his
choral works, even the finest one, ‘Paradise and the Peri,’ make their
strongest appeal through the beauty and melodic charm of the solos and
their orchestral accompaniments. He wrote nothing that could strictly
be called church-music though his compositions include a Mass and a
Requiem. Several of his works besides these, however, can be classed
as sacred music. They are the ‘Advent Hymn,’ ‘New Year’s Song,’ and a
motet (_Verzweifle nicht_) for double male chorus and organ (1849).
His secular choral works are numerous, the most important of which are
given detailed mention below. In addition there are the two ballads by
Uhland for solos, chorus, and orchestra, ‘The King’s Son’ and ‘The Luck
of Edenhall’ (for male voices); ‘The Page and the King’s Daughter,’ a
ballad by Geibel written for solos, chorus, and orchestra; a beautiful
setting of Hebbel’s ‘Song of Night’ for chorus and orchestra; and a
number of romances and ballads, among the best-known of which is ‘Gypsy
Life.’ He also wrote incidental music to Byron’s ‘Manfred’ and a set
of scenes (grouped into three parts) from Goethe’s ‘Faust,’ the latter
intended, not for stage performance, but for concert. Some portions of
his ‘Faust’ music are quite equal to ‘Paradise and the Peri’ in melodic
beauty and in freshness and sustained power of invention, but the work
is uneven, the third part being by far the best.

‘Paradise and the Peri’ was Schumann’s first venture in the field of
choral forms with orchestra, yet it is not only his finest choral
work, but it marks the real beginning of the secular or ‘romantic’
oratorio as a form of equal worth and importance with the sacred
oratorio. He published it, however, without giving any classifying
name to its form. The constant use of a narrator seems to ally it to
passion-music, as far as its form is concerned, but in other respects,
notwithstanding its length, it resembles the dramatic secular cantata.
In treating the narrative parts, however, Schumann abandons the older
form of recitative and gives to these connecting links almost the same
melodic importance as to the main events of the story themselves, thus
sacrificing an opportunity for much needed contrast among the vocal
elements.

‘Paradise and the Peri’ was written in 1843 and was given its first
performance at the Gewandhaus, Leipzig, on December 4th of the same
year with the composer conducting. England heard the work for the
first time June 23d, 1856, with Mme. Jenny Lind-Goldschmidt singing
the part of the Peri and Sterndale Bennett conducting. Schumann found
his text in the second poem of Thomas Moore’s ‘Lalla Rookh,’ which he
followed very closely. This deals with the beautiful Hindoo legend of
the fallen Peri, banished from paradise, who is promised readmission
if she succeeds in finding the gift ‘most dear to Heaven.’ She brings
in succession the last drop of blood shed by a hero fighting for his
country’s liberty, the last sigh of a devoted maiden who sacrificed
herself to die by the side of her plague-stricken lover, and the tear
of a repentant sinner--which last precious gift alone can move the
crystal bar that closes the gate of light. These three quests for
the coveted gift constitute the three parts into which the work is
divided. The music has many touches of oriental color, but it breathes
throughout the warm romantic sentiment, in melody and harmony, which
was an inseparable part of Schumann’s individual style. The work
discloses some fine choral-writing, but the composer of _Frauenliebe
und-Leben_ and _Dichterliebe_ is conspicuously apparent in many an
exquisite song, the peers of anything Schumann has written. The persons
represented are the Peri (soprano), the angel (alto), the King of Gazna
(bass), the youth (tenor), the maiden (soprano), and the horseman
(baritone); the part of the narrator is distributed among various
voices. There are choruses of Hindoos, angels, houris, and genii of the
Nile.

An expressive orchestral introduction is followed by the narrator
(alto), who describes the forlorn Peri at the gate of heaven. The
Peri sings a beautiful melody (‘How blest seem to me, banished child
of air!’), full of tender longing; the angel tells her how she may
again be admitted (‘One hope is thine’) and the Peri departs on her
quest, singing ‘I know the wealth hidden in every urn.’ The narrator
here introduces a quartet (‘Oh, beauteous land’), which is immediately
followed by a full chorus (‘But crimson now her rivers ran’). A
stirring march-like movement foretells the approach of the tyrant of
Gazna; choruses of Hindoos and the conquerors shout defiance at each
other; the narrator (tenor) tells of the solitary youth left fighting
for his native land; the tyrant and the youth face each other and utter
short defiant phrases; the youth shoots his last arrow, it misses its
mark and he is slain; and an eight-part chorus cries out in agonized
tones, ‘Woe! for false flew the shaft.’ The Peri saw the deed and flew
to catch the last drop of blood shed for liberty by the youthful hero.
The part closes with a chorus (‘For blood must be holy’), vigorous,
broad, exultant, in which the Peri finally joins.

The second part opens with a tenderly expressive strain which
accompanies the narrator (tenor) as he tells of the return of the
Peri to heaven’s gate with her gift. A short solo for the angel
follows (‘Sweet is our welcome’), and the narrator describes the
disappointment of the Peri. Without any break in the music the scene
suddenly shifts to the banks of the Nile; the spirits of the river
in a pianissimo chorus weave their dainty strains around the lament
of the Peri (‘O Eden, how longeth for thee my heart’) which rises
ever higher and higher. The narrator (tenor) describes at length the
pestilence that afflicts Egypt’s land. The Peri weeps at the scene and
a solo quartet in beautiful phrases sings the magic power of tears.
From this point to the end of the second part there is an unbroken
stream of exquisite melody, as the pathetic scene is unfolded of the
faithful love of the maiden who gladly dies beside her plague-stricken
lover. It contains two of Schumann’s finest lyric inspirations--the
solo of the mezzo-soprano narrator (‘Poor youth, thus deserted’) and
the deeply-moving love-song of the dying maiden (‘Oh, let me only
breathe the air, love!’). The Peri sings a calm, sweet lament over
the bodies of the lovers (‘Sleep on’), in which the chorus joins, and
this beautiful part is brought to a reposeful close. A graceful chorus
of houris (‘Wreathe ye the steps to great Allah’s throne’) opens the
third part, in which chorus a pleasing canon for the first and second
sopranos is given an important place. The narration is taken up by the
tenor (‘Now morn is blushing in the sky’) in very melodious strain. The
angel in a short solo again announces that the gift must be far holier.
The Peri, full of anguish and disappointment but still not despairing,
in a long aria (‘Rejected and sent from Eden’s door’) voices her
determination to find the acceptable gift. The narrator, this time a
baritone, sings a lengthy but graceful melody (‘And now o’er Syria’s
rosy plain’), followed by a beautiful quartet of Peris (‘Say, is it
so?’). The baritone resumes the narrative, and, after a short solo by
the Peri, this is continued by a tenor who in a long and stirring song
describes a scene in Baalbec’s valley--an innocent child playing amid
the flowers, a weary, sin-stained horseman who pauses to drink from the
near-by fountain. The alto narrator pictures the vesper call to prayer
and the child’s instant response. The tenor dwells on the childhood
memories aroused in ‘the man of sin’ at the sight. The horseman in a
short but heartfelt strain (‘There was a time, thou blessed child’)
is touched to repentance. A quartet and chorus (‘Oh, blessed tears of
true repentance’) take up the theme in simple, full harmony. The Peri
and the tenor narrator describe the scene as the man and the child
kneel side by side in prayer. In the final number the Peri in exultant
tones (‘Joy, joy forever! My work is done’) sings her happiness at
having found the acceptable gift, and from a chorus of the blest there
resounds a glad welcome to the redeemed Peri (‘Oh, welcome mid the
blest!’).

‘The Pilgrimage of the Rose’ was written for solos, chorus, and
orchestra in the spring of 1851 and first performed at Düsseldorf, May
6, 1852. It is founded on a fairy tale by Moritz Horn, the uninspiring
and weak text of which is probably responsible for the infrequent
performance of this cantata, though individual numbers are occasionally
given. The narrative calls for eight personages distributed among
the various voices and there are twenty-four numbers. The rather
commonplace story relates the wanderings of a rose, who, transformed
into a lovely maiden, tastes the joys of pure happiness among mortals.
The rose, which she must always carry with her, she finally gives to
her infant babe, and, as she dies, she is carried away by angels. Among
the most interesting numbers are the opening song in canon-form for
two sopranos (‘Of loving will the token’), the chorus of fairies (‘In
dancing’), a spirited male chorus (‘In the thick wood hast wandered’),
the duet (‘In the smiling valley’), and the two bridal choruses (‘Why
sound the horns so gaily?’ and ‘And now at the miller’s’).

‘The Minstrel’s Curse,’ a work for solo voices, chorus, and orchestra,
was written and first performed in 1852. It presents the familiar
Uhland ballad of the same name, adapted for the composer by Richard
Pohl. The original text is not closely followed and several other poems
by Uhland are introduced, such as _Die drei Lieder_, _Entsagung_, and
_Hohe Liebe_, the singing of which last-named song is made the occasion
that leads to the tragedy. The cantata opens with a description of
the castle and the proud king by the narrator, after which an alto
solo announces the advent of the minstrels. The youth sings a graceful
Provençal song and a chorus follows. The stern king angrily objects
to the tender themes chosen by the youth and the harper sings in
sterner mood. The queen plaintively requests more songs and the youth
and the harper again sing of spring and pleasure. The youth then
sings passionately of love and the harper and the queen join him in a
powerful trio that precedes the tragedy, after which the chorus carries
the narration to the end.

‘Advent Hymn.’--This setting of a devotional hymn by Friedrich Rückert
for soprano solo, chorus, and orchestra, was made in 1848. It is a
short work with only seven numbers, but is broad and impressive in
style and is finely illustrative of Schumann’s best choral-writing. The
first number is a melodious solo (‘In lowly guise thy King appeareth’)
for soprano with answering passages for female chorus, which leads
into a strong five-part chorus (‘O King indeed, though no man hail
Thee’). This is followed by a soprano solo (‘When Thou the stormy sea
art crossing’), concluding with a quiet chorus for female voices.
The fourth number is introduced by a short section for male voices
(‘Thou Lord of grace and truth unfailing’), which is taken up at once
by full chorus in delicate pianissimo and interspersed with frequent
five-pulse measures. The fifth number is given to a quartet (‘Need is
there for Thyself, returning’), written in free imitative style. The
last two numbers are elaborate choruses to which a solo quartet is very
effectively joined. The close is massive and stately--a prayer that
Christ will quench all strife and bring peace and unity to the peoples
of the earth.

Friedrich Rückert’s ‘New Year’s Hymn’ was set to music by Schumann
in 1849 for chorus and orchestra, with incidental solos for soprano,
alto, and bass. The theme is the familiar one of solemn retrospection
over the Old Year and hopeful anticipation for the New. The solo work
is slight, the weightier utterances being confided to the chorus. The
final chorus (‘O prince, waking throned for a year as of right’) is
particularly effective. Beginning in full, pianissimo harmony, it rises
to a jubilant close, in which appears the chorale ‘Now thank we all our
God,’ at first in the bass contrapuntally treated and then with all the
voices in unison.

‘Mignon’s Requiem’ is a cantata of slight and delicate texture, but of
rich and varied musical beauty. Very different from many of the texts
which Schumann chose for choral settings, this one was especially
written for music. It is taken from Goethe’s ‘Wilhelm Meister,’ from
the scene in which the obsequies of Mignon occur. The score is full of
poetic and mystical touches from the first quiet chorus (‘Who comes to
join our silent assembly?’) to the last triumphant chorus (‘Children,
haste into life to return’). The work was composed in 1849 for solos,
chorus, and orchestra, but the duties of the soloists are light.


                                   VI

The list of choral works of Ferdinand Hiller (1811-1885) is an
extensive one. The style in which many of them were written is now
obsolete, however, and only one, ‘A Song of Victory,’ has retained its
earlier popularity. Next in importance to this is the dramatic cantata,
‘Nala and Damayanti,’ founded on an ancient Hindoo poem and written in
1871. Other choral works are the two oratorios, ‘The Destruction of
Jerusalem’ (1839) and ‘Saul’ (1858), and the cantatas _O weint um sie_
(1839), ‘Israel’s Song of Victory’ (1841), ‘Song of the Spirits over
the Water’ (1842), ‘Prometheus’ (1843), ‘Rebecca’ (1843), ‘Heloise’
(1844), ‘Loreley’ (1845), and ‘Prince Papagei’ (1872).

‘A Song of Victory.’--The triumph of the German arms in the
Franco-Prussian war of 1870 was the occasion that prompted the
composition of this cantata, and joy and gratitude for victory are
its dominant moods. It was written for soprano solo, chorus, and
orchestra, and the Cologne Festival of 1871 was the scene of its first
performance. The work opens with a powerful chorus (‘The Lord great
wonders for us hath wrought’) beginning with sustained chords, then
changing to a movement of great animation. The soprano voice takes up
the second number (‘Praise, O Jerusalem, praise the Lord’) and, as the
opening phrases are repeated, the chorus adds a soft accompaniment.
This is followed by a vigorous and dramatic chorus (‘The heathen are
fallen in the pit’), describing the terrors of war and, in contrast,
the strong confidence of true believers in the protection of the
Lord. A short soprano solo (‘See, it is written in the book of the
righteous’), lamenting for the slain, leads into a beautiful three-part
chorus for female voices (‘He in tears that soweth’), to which the
soprano obbligato is most effectively added. The sixth number (‘Mighty
is our God’) is a sustained chorus with massive chords. The last two
numbers are for solo and chorus and return to the exultant mood with
which the work begins, the last chorus (‘Praise the Lord for His great
wonders’) closing with an outburst of joy and hallelujah.

       *       *       *       *       *

The first important contribution which Denmark made to the literature
of music in the larger forms came from the pen of Niels Wilhelm Gade
(1817-1890). Although his music shows strong traces of the influence
of Schumann and Mendelssohn, especially the latter, his best works
are virile, individual, and plainly affected by the harmonies and
cadences of the Scandinavian folk-song. Some of his most forceful and
characteristic utterances are to be found in choral forms and here
he followed Schumann’s example in choosing romantic subjects drawn
largely from imaginative and fanciful legends and folklore. Several of
the cantatas are chosen for analysis; the remaining ones are ‘Spring
Fantasy’ (1850), ‘Kalamus’ (1853), ‘Spring’s Message’ (1853) for chorus
and orchestra, and ‘Psyche’ (1856) for solos, chorus, and orchestra.

‘The Crusaders’ is the first[69] secular choral work after ‘Paradise
and the Peri’ to compare in importance and in richness of content and
treatment with Schumann’s fine composition. It easily takes rank among
the strongest and most beautiful of nineteenth-century cantatas. It was
written in 1866 and performed in Copenhagen the same year. In 1876 Gade
conducted this work as well as his ‘Zion’ at the Birmingham Festival,
England. The central motive of the poem by Carl Andersen (much of whose
material is drawn from Tasso’s ‘Jerusalem Delivered’) is the temptation
of the brave crusader Rinaldo d’Este by the sorceress Armida and her
sirens and his triumph over the powers of evil. The personages are
three in number, Rinaldo (tenor), Armida (mezzo-soprano), and Peter
the Hermit (bass); and the work is divided into three parts--(1) In
the desert, (2) Armida, and (3) Towards Jerusalem. The first part
opens with a chorus of pilgrims and women from the crusaders’ host,
depicting the long, weary march and the sufferings in the struggle
to gain the distant goal. The encouraging voice of Peter the Hermit
is heard (‘Soon our God success will send us’) and Rinaldo sings the
stirring Crusaders’ Song (‘Shine, holy sun, shine on my trusty sword’),
to each stanza of which the chorus adds a vigorous, war-like refrain.
The Hermit leads the crusaders in an evening prayer of impressive
strength, beauty, and exalted devotion, and thus the first part
closes. The second part begins with a long orchestral introduction,
descriptive of the direful influence of Armida’s magic charms. The
spirits of darkness appear and, as they dance, sing a weird pianissimo
chorus (‘Silent, creeping so light’). In a fine dramatic solo Armida
outlines her plans for the ensnarement of Rinaldo. The sirens, in a
three-part chorus, sing a melody of truly wonderful sensuous beauty
(‘The wave sweeps my breast’) and their enticing voices are frequently
heard in the tumultuous music of the temptation scene that follows.
Armida sings in seductive tones ‘O Rinaldo, come to endless joy and
rest.’ The brave knight’s senses are enthralled and he is on the point
of yielding when he hears a strain of the Crusaders’ Song as from the
distance. A powerful concerted number is built up from this point.
Rinaldo wavers, the sturdy Crusaders’ Song and the voluptuous music of
the sirens and Armida struggle for the mastery. The former becomes more
insistent, the magic spell of the sorceress is broken, and Rinaldo,
now thoroughly roused, joins fervently in the crusaders’ refrain, ‘Of
heaven the faithful soldier am I ever.’ Like Wagner’s ‘Parsifal,’ with
which this cantata has many points in common, the first and third parts
of ‘The Crusaders’ build a religious frame for the vividly contrasting
temptation scene of the middle part. The third part is introduced by a
calm and devotional morning hymn of the crusaders, their faces fixed
toward Jerusalem. The penitent Rinaldo again vows allegiance to the
cross (‘With holy thoughts seek holy things’). His solo leads into
the choral March of Pilgrims (‘Forward! O weary feet’), stirring,
confident, and exalted. Jerusalem appears in the distance; the Hermit
calls the hosts to final combat, the Crusaders’ Song again resounds
triumphantly and the work closes with a brilliant choral climax (‘To
war! God wills it, up, arouse thee!’).

‘The Erl-King’s Daughter.’--Gade composed the music for this cantata
in 1852, the text being founded on Danish legends quite different from
the one made famous by Goethe’s familiar poem. The knight, Sir Oluf,
has been bewitched by the Erl-King’s daughters as he slept in the
twilight on a mound in the forest. Notwithstanding the warning of his
mother, he fares forth on the eve of his wedding-day to seek again the
alluring maidens. They invite him with enticing songs to join their
moonlight revels and offer him a silken robe for his bride and a silver
cuirass for himself. He refuses to dance with the fairest of them,
she lays her hand upon his brow and predicts his death. He jumps on
his steed and madly rushes home, where his mother tremblingly awaits
him. In the morning light she sees him riding desperately through the
fields without plume or shield; he draws rein at the castle door,
briefly greets his terrified mother, and falls dead from his steed. A
short epilogue draws a moral that youths who ride through the woods at
night should turn aside from the Erl-King’s mound, for ‘danger will
ever him betide who heeds the Erl-maidens’ singing!’ There are three
solo voices--the Erl-King’s daughter (soprano), Sir Oluf (baritone),
and Oluf’s mother (alto). The music throughout is very melodious,
graceful, and pleasing. The most interesting numbers are the chorus of
Erl-maidens, the enticing song of the Erl-King’s daughter, the morning
hymn (‘The sun now mounts the eastern sky’) which opens the third part,
and the dramatic finale, a concerted number of much vigor and animation.

‘Christmas Eve’ is a short meditation on the Nativity (poem by
August von Platen), set in cantata-form for alto solo, eight-part
chorus, and orchestra in 1851. A strongly devotional style is
maintained throughout. In the opening number a seraph (alto) bids
the hosts of angels to carry earthward the glad tidings of Christ’s
coming. The second number is a double chorus of seraphim (‘Behold,
a star appeareth’) and shepherds (‘Angelic hosts surround us’),
the two uniting in rich and varied combinations. The seraph, in a
solo of rare beauty (‘O! with pure devotion’), summons the world to
worship the Child, and the chorus softly sings its ‘praise to the
newly-born.’ The double chorus is handled antiphonally with great
skill and effectiveness. The final number (‘But now a cheerful morning
o’er-spreads the weary earth’) is a flowing, hymn-like melody for alto
solo, repeated in elaborated form for full eight-part chorus, but
sinking quietly to a reposeful close.

‘Comala,’ the earliest of Gade’s choral works, was first performed at
Leipzig through Mendelssohn’s influence on March 3, 1843. The dramatic
poem to which the music is written follows Ossian and relates the story
of the Scottish princess Comala, daughter of Sarno, king of Innistore,
whose ardent passion for Fingal, king of Morven, was as ardently
returned. Disguised as a youth (in the manner of old Italian opera)
she follows him on an expedition against Caracul, king of Lochlin.
The royal lovers part before the battle, Fingal promising to return
victorious in the evening. Filled with sad forebodings, the princess
with her maidens awaits him on a height from which she can witness the
battle. A furious storm arises and amid its roaring blasts the spirits
of the warriors’ ancestors sweep by to guide home the souls of the
slain. Comala imagines that the battle is lost and her lover killed.
Overmastered by her grief, she dies, and Fingal, returning with his
victorious warriors, hears from the weeping maidens the news of the
tragedy. He sorrowfully calls upon the bards to sing her praises, and,
with the maidens, they chant a farewell hymn to her as her departing
soul is borne to the mansions of her fathers. Music and poetry alike
are tinged with the darksome northern colors.

The solo work is distributed among four personages--Comala (soprano),
her two maidens Dersagrena and Malicoma (mezzo-sopranos), and Fingal
(bass). The graceful and, in the main, obvious character of the music
has made this cantata a great favorite for more than a half-century.
Many characteristic touches of northern harmony and melody are brought
to view, as in the orchestral introduction and in the songs of Comala
and the ballads sung by her maids to cheer her (‘There, lonely, sits
Comala’ and ‘One day there came from Lochlin’). The parting duet
between Fingal and Comala is melodious and sincere; but the main charm
of the work springs from the choruses, which are about equally divided
between Fingal’s warriors and Comala’s maidens. Of the male choruses
the one accompanying Fingal’s victorious return (‘Far fled is the foe’)
is particularly stately and forceful. The female chorus is used with
fine effect in the agitated scene of Comala’s fatal forebodings and
subsequent death. The chorus of spirits (‘Our pathway is the storm’) is
weird and sepulchral, but becomes dramatic as the frightened princess
raises her voice in supplication to spare her lover. The cantata closes
with a full chorus of bards and maidens (‘In the darkness of clouds’),
who, in imposing and majestic unison strains, rich in the sombre hues
of the northern splendor, commend the soul of ‘the sweet loving maiden’
to the spirits of the fathers.

‘Zion’ is a sacred cantata for baritone solo, chorus, and orchestra,
written in 1860 when Gade was at the height of his creative powers.
It consists of an introduction (‘Hear, O my flock Israel’) in which
the chorus relates how the Lord God heard the groanings and cries of
the children of Israel and wrought great wonders in their behalf. This
is followed by two choruses--the first describing the departure from
Egypt and closing with a tranquil fugal section (‘Like as a flock He
hath gently led His people’), and the second portraying the captivity
in Babylon. The final number, entitled ‘The Return,’ relates the
prophecy of the New Jerusalem. The baritone solo takes up the theme
in a dignified aria, followed by a female chorus and closing with an
animated full chorus (‘Never shall thy sun be setting’) in impressive,
sonorous phrases. The whole work is conceived in a broad oratorio style
in which the influence of both Handel and Mendelssohn may be detected.

‘Spring’s Message,’ for chorus and orchestra, is based on a poem by
Geibel which depicts Spring as the season of hope, particularly of the
Christian’s hope. This mood is maintained throughout and the composer’s
gift of tuneful melody has thrown over voice-parts and accompaniment
alike a charm that well befits this joyous season. This short work was
written in 1853.


                                   VII

Félicien David (1810-1876) was a prominent French composer of the
nineteenth century who attained his maximum popularity in the fifties.
Though he wrote numerous operas and compositions in various other
fields, he is one of those composers whom posterity has remembered
almost entirely by a single work, in this case, ‘The Desert,’ a
composition of singular beauty and charm. While a comparatively
young man David had sojourned for several years in the East, in
Constantinople, Egypt, and the Holy Land, and his experiences there
made an indelible impression upon his talents. The form of ‘The Desert’
is rather hard to classify. The composer calls it a ‘symphonic ode.’
It consists of orchestral numbers, male choruses, and tenor solos,
grouped into three parts and interspersed with short descriptive
recitations. The poem by Auguste Colin, which forms the text of the
work, made an instant appeal to David and the very spontaneous music
for it was composed in three months. When it was first performed in
the hall of the Conservatoire, December 8, 1844, it was received with
enormous applause and was repeated to crowded houses for a month. The
popular estimate then placed upon it has been largely confirmed by its
long-continued popularity. David wrote three other choral works--the
oratorio ‘Moses on Sinai’ (1846), a second symphonic ode, ‘Christopher
Columbus’ (1847), and ‘Eden,’ a ‘mystery’ in two parts, performed at
the Grand Opéra in 1848--but none of these received popular approval.

‘The Desert.’--The theme of the work on which David’s fame
chiefly rests is the desert with its silent vastness, its gloom, and
its grandeur. The human interest is centred on a caravan in various
situations, in the description of which the composer, with remarkable
success, invokes genuine local color; his Arabs are no mere disguised
Frenchmen. Throughout the orchestral introduction a sustained C
symbolizes the dreary monotony of the boundless stretches of sand; a
fantastic hymn of homage to Allah is sung; the march of the caravan is
brilliantly depicted, first by the orchestra and then by the chorus;
the caravan battles with a fierce simoon; calm is restored and the
march is resumed until evening halts it. The second part, entitled
‘Night,’ opens with a charming tenor solo (‘O night, O lovely night’),
after which the orchestra plays an ‘Arab Fantasia’ and a ‘Dance of the
Dancing Girls.’ The chorus sings of freedom in the desert and the tenor
indulges in an evening meditation, to an accompaniment in Oriental
rhythm. The third part (‘Sunrise’) begins with a chant of the muezzin,
founded on a real Arabian melody, calling the faithful to prayer, and
then the caravan departs on its journey, to the choral music heard in
the first part. The opening hymn to Allah, with some modifications,
brings the work to a close. The Oriental atmosphere is preserved
throughout to an astonishing degree.


       [Illustration: Cantata Writers of the Nineteenth Century:
               Top: Ferdinand Hiller and Félicien David
            Bottom: Niels W. Gade and W. Sterndale Bennett]


It will be observed that the Germans have been given by far the most
numerous representation among the choral works thus far mentioned,
there being among them compositions by only three composers of other
nationalities--Gade, a Dane, and Berlioz and David, both Frenchmen.
This numerical difference represents a fair statement of the relative
importance of choral music in continental countries in the period
under present discussion (that is, from 1800 to about 1870). In France
choral music was entirely overshadowed in artistic significance by the
opera, as, indeed, were all other forms of music. The list of German
composers of cantatas and shorter choral works might be even still
further extended by the inclusion of Robert Franz (1815-1892), the
writer of exquisitely refined songs, who also composed the 117th Psalm
for double chorus _a cappella_, a Kyrie for four-part chorus and solos
_a cappella_, and a Liturgy for the Evangelical service; and Franz Abt
(1819-1885), chiefly known by ballads of a folk-song character and a
large number of cantatas for female voices and male voices, all written
in an easy, flowing, popular style.

In England, cantatas, especially those based on some story or legend,
have long been exceedingly popular. The love of choral music has been a
national characteristic of the English people for over two centuries.
As early as the seventeenth century choral festivals were organized
by various cathedral choirs acting conjointly. The celebration of St.
Cecilia’s day was made the occasion of some of the earliest of these
festivals and ‘The Musical Society’ was organized in London in 1683 in
order to conduct them on a more artistic basis. Musical festivals and
associations were later formed in the provinces and grew into great
favor. As time went on these assumed large dimensions and exerted
an artistic influence as in no other country. Some of those now in
existence are extremely old, as the ‘Festivals of the Three Choirs’
of Gloucester, Worcester, and Hereford, organized in 1724, and the
Birmingham Festival, begun in 1768 by a series of concerts made up
almost exclusively of Handel’s works. The tremendous popularity of
Handel’s choral works in England not only resulted in the extension of
the Handel worship which continued unabated until the frequent visits
of Mendelssohn attracted much of its enthusiasm to his own superb
oratorios, but caused a substantial increase in the number of choral
societies throughout the kingdom. These societies have been unusually
generous in giving native works abundant hearing and English composers
were not slow to take advantage of the opportunities thus offered.
English choral works, therefore, constitute a formidable array. From
the time of Purcell until the present generation of composers, however,
very few works have been produced that rise much above the general
level of mere respectability or amiable reflection of Handelian and
Mendelssohnian models that seems to be the chief characteristic of
English choral music of the period thus bounded. Indeed, English choral
works produced in this period before 1850 are practically a negligible
quantity in the literature of this branch of musical art. But among
English composers who were active in this field in the third quarter of
the nineteenth century there are several who deserve special mention;
these are Sir Julius Benedict, Sir Michael Costa, Sir George A.
Macfarren, Sir William Sterndale Bennett, and Henry Smart.

Julius Benedict (1804-1885), an eminent German who made England his
home during the last fifty years of his life, contributed frequently
and successfully to the Norwich Festivals, of which he was the
conductor from 1845 to 1878, inclusive. Here in 1860 his beautiful
cantata ‘Undine’ was performed, in which the famous singer Clara
Novello made her last public appearance. In 1863 at the same festival
his cantata ‘Richard Cœur de Lion’ was produced and in 1866 ‘The
Legend of St. Cecilia.’ The cantata ‘Graziella,’ intended for the
Norwich Festival of 1881 but not completed in time, was produced at
the Birmingham Festival of 1882. Of these cantatas, ‘The Legend of
St. Cecilia’ is the most important. The poem, written by the English
critic and author Henry F. Chorley, presents four characters--Cecilia
(soprano), her husband, Valerianus (tenor), the Prefect of Rome (bass),
and a Christian Woman (contralto)--and choruses of Roman citizens,
Christians, and angels. It sets forth the wedding festivities, the
conversion of Valerianus to Christianity by the angelic vision through
Cecilia’s prayers, the discovery of his defection by the angry prefect
of Rome who had just joined them in wedlock, his trial, the parting and
finally the death of the pair--Valerianus by being beheaded and Cecilia
by the slow martyrdom of the stake.

Michael Costa (1808-1884), an Italian composer and conductor who lived
in England after 1830, was closely identified with English choral
music as conductor of the Birmingham Festivals from 1849 to 1882, as
conductor of the Sacred Harmonic Society and the Handel Festivals
from 1857 to 1880, in which latter capacity he wrote additional
accompaniments to most of Handel’s oratorios, and as composer of two
important oratorios which will be mentioned in a later chapter, and
of several shorter choral works. His serenata, ‘The Dream,’ which was
written to a poem by William Bartholomew for the marriage festivities
of the Princess Royal of England to Prince Frederick William of
Prussia, afterward Emperor Frederick, is a short and delightfully
melodious composition for four solo voices, chorus, and orchestra.
Oberon (bass) commands the fairies to prepare a car for Queen Mab
(alto), who charms the eyes and ears of The Lady (soprano) so that
she may in her dreams see the form and hear the tones of adoration of
‘her beloved lover’ (tenor). The principal numbers are a dainty and
bright chorus of fairies (‘Make the car of a golden king-cup’), an
impassioned serenade by the lover (‘O the joy of truly loving’), and a
closing choral serenade (‘Lady, arise! look forth and see’), tuneful
and sparkling.

George Alexander Macfarren (1813-1887) was one of the most
distinguished and scholarly English musicians of the nineteenth
century. He was a prolific composer in many fields and in none was he
more successful than in choral-writing. His operas, oratorios, and
cantatas are numerous, and in the last-named group his important works
are ‘Leonora,’ composed in 1851; ‘May-Day,’ written for the Bradford
Festival, 1856; ‘Christmas,’ written in 1859 and first performed at a
concert of the Musical Society of London on May 9, 1860; ‘The Lady of
the Lake,’ founded on Scott’s poem and produced at the Glasgow Musical
Festival, November 15, 1876; ‘Songs in a Cornfield,’ written in 1868
for female voices to words by Christina Rossetti; and ‘Outward Bound’
(1877). John Oxenford, a popular librettist of the period, furnished
the texts for ‘Christmas,’ ‘May-Day,’ and ‘Outward Bound.’

‘May-Day,’ for soprano solo, chorus, and orchestra, is a brief cantata
full of the jollity of this old-time festival, with its ancient
ceremony of choosing the May-Queen and the accompanying rustic revels.
It contains many examples of the quaint style of part-writing prevalent
in the preceding century, among them the delightful part-song ‘The
Hunt’s up.’[70] ‘The Lady of the Lake’ is a work of large dimensions
demanding five solo voices--Ellen, the Lady of the Lake (soprano),
Blanche of Devan (contralto), James FitzJames, the Knight of Snowdoun
(tenor), Roderick Dhu (baritone), and James, Earl of Douglas (bass).
The most interesting music in this cantata is assigned to the chorus,
and here the composer demonstrates his fine ability in effective
part-writing, at the same time introducing many touches borrowed from
the idiom of Scottish folk-melodies.

Henry Smart (1813-1879) was one of the earliest of the modern English
composers to come under the influence of the romantic movement. He
is most widely known for his part-songs, organ music, and anthems
and other Anglican ritual-music, but his best work is the cantata
‘The Bride of Dunkerron.’ He produced several other cantatas of less
merit--‘King René’s Daughter’ (1871) and ‘The Fishermaidens,’ both for
female voices, and the sacred cantata ‘Jacob,’ written for the Glasgow
Festival and performed there November 10th, 1873.

‘The Bride of Dunkerron’ was written for the Birmingham Festival of
1864. The poem by Frederick Enoch is founded on a legend concerning a
Lord of Dunkerron, whose castle was on the coast of Kerry, who fell in
love with a sea-maiden and followed her to her watery home. She seeks
the Sea-King’s consent to their union, which he not only refuses to
give but condemns her to death for loving a mortal and drives her lover
from his realm by a tempest which casts his body upon the shores. There
are solo parts for the Sea-Maiden (soprano), Dunkerron (tenor), and
the Sea-King (bass). The solos are numerous and uniformly grateful,
the most conspicuous ones being Dunkerron’s simple but charming song
as he waits on the seashore for the maiden’s appearing (‘The full moon
is beaming’), the Sea-King’s aria (‘Oh, the earth is fair in plain
and glade’), and the maiden’s graceful song (‘Our home shall be on
this bright isle’) which she sings as she departs to win the consent
of the Sea-King. The chorus has important work to do and Smart shows
conspicuous skill in handling this factor. The opening number is in
reality a double chorus of peasants who tell of Dunkerron’s nightly
watch by the sea, and sea-maidens who sing the enticing songs that
prove to be his undoing. After the long love-duet between Dunkerron
and the maiden, there ensues a brisk and stirring chorus which
depicts the journey of the lovers through the waters to the maiden’s
dwelling-place. The sea-maidens sing several attractive choruses and a
chorus of storm-spirits (‘Roar, wind of the tempest, roar’) foretells
the impending tragedy and leads to a dramatic trio for the three
characters. The king’s angry edict dooms the lovers and the double
chorus of peasants and sea-maidens closes the work as it began it, but
the mood is now one of sad lament over the tragic dénouement.

‘King René’s Daughter’ is a cantata for female voices, written in
1871. The poem by Frederick Enoch is based on a lyric drama by Henrik
Hertz. King René, of Provence, had betrothed his infant daughter
Iolanthe to the son of the Count of Vaudemont. She became suddenly
blind before she had emerged from babyhood, and, in order to keep from
her the realization of her loss, her father brought her up without
any knowledge of what sight means. A magician offered to restore her
sight, making only the one condition that she first be told of the
lost faculty, but this her father refused to do. One day her betrothed
passed through the valley where she dwelt, singing his troubadour
songs. He beheld Iolanthe for the first time and was fascinated by
her beauty. Through the song which he sang to her of the lovely rose
she realized the existence of the lost sense, and, this having been
disclosed to her and the magician’s condition thus fulfilled, she
was healed. There are thirteen numbers in the cantata and the solo
parts are Iolanthe (soprano), Martha (mezzo-soprano), and Beatrice
(contralto), though other solo voices are added in a trio and later
in a quartet which, as narrator, tells of the troubadour’s song to
Iolanthe. The entire work is written in a melodious, graceful style and
closes with a chorus of exuberant joy at the restoration of sight to
‘King René’s daughter the fair.’

Sterndale Bennett (1816-1875) has not infrequently been called ‘the
English Mendelssohn,’ not because he was a conscious imitator of his
great German contemporary and intimate friend, but because his music
exemplifies the same qualities of polished refinement and exquisite
workmanship, although of far less inspirational value and emotional
content. Bennett was a ‘shy and reticent’ composer in point of the
number of his works, and of these (there are only 46 opera in all) only
three were in extended choral forms, namely, an ‘Ode for the Opening
of the International Exhibition,’ 1862, to words by Tennyson, ‘The
May Queen,’ a pastoral cantata, and ‘The Woman of Samaria,’ a sacred
cantata usually classed as an oratorio.

‘The May Queen’ was written for the Leeds Festival of 1858 and,
notwithstanding the poorly-written libretto by Henry F. Chorley, is
replete with musical beauties of striking power. The solo parts are
assigned to the May Queen (soprano), the Queen (alto), the Lover
(tenor), and the Captain of the Foresters, as Robin Hood (bass). The
story relates the celebration of May-Day in ancient times on the banks
of the Thames, which is interrupted by a quarrel between the jealous
and despondent lover of the May Queen and Robin Hood, who enters at the
head of a band of rollicking foresters and openly makes love to the May
Queen. The Queen enters, the lover is arrested for having struck the
forester, the May Queen intercedes for his release and thereby reveals
her affection for him, the forester is banished for having stooped
to woo a peasant girl, the Queen orders the wedding of the May Queen
and her lover on the following morning, and everything ends happily.
The music (there are ten numbers in the cantata) is characterized
throughout by utmost refinement and grace of expression and is
distinctly individualized in respect to the different personages. The
finest solos are the lament of the disconsolate lover (‘O meadow, clad
in early green’) and the forester’s robust song (‘Tis jolly to hunt
in the bright moonlight’). The chorus-writing is scholarly, always
effective without over-taxing the singers, bright, spirited, and
spontaneous. This cantata is to be numbered among the most beautiful
compositions of this class.


                                   VIII

Anglican ritual-music of the nineteenth century falls into two natural
groups. The first group comprises the compositions up to about 1850
which complete the third period of English church-music (see page
93) overlapping from the preceding century; the second group begins
with the evidences of new life that crept into English church-music
about the middle of the century and brought to it refreshing vigor and
regeneration. Most of the anthems and ‘services’ of the first half of
the century repeat the colorless and listless style of the preceding
century, yet several composers produced music of real worth, dignity,
and solidity. Such were William Crotch (1775-1847); Thomas Attwood
(1765-1838), a pupil of Mozart and a close friend of Mendelssohn (to
whom the latter dedicated his three preludes and fugues for organ),
whose ‘I was glad,’ written for the coronation of George IV with
full orchestral accompaniment, is a remarkably fine work of imposing
breadth; and Thomas Attwood Walmisley (1814-1856). Among the most
representative examples of the work of this group of composers will be
found the following anthems: Attwood’s ‘Withdraw not Thou’ and ‘Grant
we beseech Thee,’ Walmisley’s ‘Remember, O Lord’ and ‘O give thanks.’
With the melodious music of Sir John Goss (1800-1880) and the notable
series of anthems and ‘services’ by Rev. S. S. Wesley (1810-1876) and
Sir George A. Macfarren (1813-1887), what might be called the middle
modern school of English anthem-music comes to an end. On the whole
academic and respectable rather than inspired, the religious music of
this period is only the outward expression of the drowsy and apathetic
inner life of the Church.

The motets of the nineteenth century and the decades just preceding
have, in the main, far closer kinship to the sacred cantata than to
the typical form whose name they assume. Beautiful as the motets of
Haydn, Mozart, and Cherubini are as music, they are far removed from
the old motet in spirit, even though they were written to be sung
at High Mass. The best motets written for the German Evangelical
service were attempts to revive the glories of Bach’s motet style.
In this field Mendelssohn achieved noteworthy success (see page 151)
and the well-known motets of Moritz Hauptmann (1792-1868), cantor of
the Thomasschule at Leipzig for over twenty years, attest how deeply
he imbibed the spirit of his great predecessor. The motets of these
two composers represent the best examples of this form in the period
covered by this chapter. But as the years move on, the old motet is
becoming more and more archaic.

The nineteenth-century part-song had a brilliant history. The
enthusiasm with which it was cultivated in Germany under certain
patriotic stimuli, later spread to England and France with happy
results. The first German choral society made up wholly of amateur
singers was the Berlin _Singakademie_, founded on May 27th, 1791,
by Karl Christian Fasch (1736-1800). Male choruses, as much social
as musical in nature, had existed in Germany since the seventeenth
century, but they did not attain much popularity or influence until
Carl Friedrich Zelter (1758-1832) established the first _Liedertafel_
in Berlin in 1808, composed of twenty-four men from the _Singakademie_.
The political effect of Weber’s stirring part-songs, especially his
setting of the patriotic songs in Körner’s _Leyer und Schwert_, as,
for example, ‘Bright sword of liberty’ and ‘Lützow’s wild hunt,’ has
been already mentioned. The love of choral singing became contagious,
and, stimulated by the new feeling of nationalism, both male choruses
(_Liedertafeln_) and choral societies (_Gesangvereine_) began to
multiply rapidly, especially after 1818. Though much of the part-music
written for their consumption was weak and tasteless, many of the
great composers bountifully contributed of their best ideas. Schubert
wrote some fifty pieces of this class, twenty-two of which are for
unaccompanied male voices. Among these seldom-sung pieces are many
of astonishing beauty, as his setting of _Nur wer die Sehnsucht
kennt_. Schumann wrote about a dozen part-songs for male voices and
some twenty for mixed voices, many of them as poetic and charmingly
melodic as his songs. Mendelssohn’s part-songs, however, exerted an
overpowering influence not only in his own country but especially in
England, where he was imitated _ad nauseam_ for nearly fifty years by
native composers. Here, however, they were instrumental in creating
such a revival of choral singing among the people, well-nigh dead
since the old madrigal days, that singing societies were established
far and wide throughout the land, even in remote communities. So many
of these part-songs of Mendelssohn are familiar household songs in
Germany, England, and America that it will be unnecessary to name
any here. Among the German part-song writers of less importance are
Ignaz Seyfried (1776-1841), Julius Otto (1804-1877), Friedrich Kücken
(1810-1882), Friedrich Truhn (1811-1886), Ferdinand Hiller (1811-1885),
Robert Franz (1815-1892), Carl Wilhelm (1815-1873), composer of _Die
Wacht am Rhein_, Franz Abt (1819-1885), and Joachim Raff (1822-1882).

Though Mendelssohn’s part-songs set the prevailing style in England for
many years, many native compositions of sterling worth were produced.
Sterndale Bennett wrote only three, but they are fine examples of this
class, especially ‘Come, live with me.’ John L. Hatton (1809-1886),
Henry Smart (1813-1879), Sir George A. Macfarren (1813-1887), Henry
Leslie (1822-1896), Ciro Pinsuti (1829-1888), and other composers in
England have written fine part-songs that have been deservedly popular.
But Robert L. de Pearsall (1795-1856), who wrote almost exclusively in
this form, succeeded in a remarkable degree in combining the quaintness
of the old madrigal with the freedom and grace of the more modern
style. He published about sixty madrigals and part-songs, a large
proportion of which will remain a permanent part of the literature of
this field. Among the finest of these may be mentioned the ten-part
song ‘Sir Patrick Spens,’ probably the most elaborate and successful
part-song in existence, the genuinely humorous ‘Who shall win my lady
fair,’ the melodious ‘When last I strayed,’ ‘Purple glow,’ and ‘O who
will o’er the downs so free,’ and others equally masterly.

About 1835 a general movement was started in France for the
establishment of singing societies called _Orphéon_. These were
organized in the communal schools, among working people, and at the
universities, but were for male singers only. They became very popular
and spread with great rapidity. The corporation of Paris recognized
their importance and made choral singing one of its municipal
departments, in 1852 placing Gounod at the head of the _Orphéon_.
Annual contests and festivals were instituted which attracted choral
societies from every part of France. In 1867 these choral societies
numbered 3,243 with a membership of 147,500. The rapid increase
in interest in choral singing naturally led to the composition of
numberless unaccompanied part-songs, which were on the whole more
elaborate than the English part-songs and which admitted the dramatic
element very frequently. Among French composers who wrote expressly for
these societies were Halévy, Adolphe Adam, Félicien David, Ambroise
Thomas, Gounod, Delibes, Massenet, Dubois, Bazin, and particularly
Laurent de Rillé, whose compositions in this form number over a hundred.


                              FOOTNOTES:

[68] An adaptation of this melody is associated in England and America
with Charles Wesley’s Christmas hymn, ‘Hark! the herald angels sing.’

[69] Though most of Berlioz’s ‘Damnation of Faust’ was written in
1845-6, it really antedated Schumann’s work both in inception and in
the actual composition of many of its finest numbers (see page 158).

[70] Any morning song of a lively, spirited nature, even a love-song,
was called a ‘Hunt’s-up’ in olden English times.




                               CHAPTER VI

                          THE MODERN CANTATA

     Wagner: ‘The Love Feast of the Apostles’; Liszt: ‘The Bells
     of Strassburg,’ ‘Prometheus’--Brahms: ‘Song of Triumph,’
     ‘Song of Destiny’--Max Bruch; ‘Frithjof,’ ‘Fair Ellen,’ ‘The
     Cross of Fire,’ ‘The Lay of the Bell,’ etc.--Rheinberger;
     Dvořák; Hofmann; Goetz--Grieg; Gounod; Sullivan: ‘The Golden
     Legend’; Barnby; Gaul; Stainer; Cowen--Parry; Mackenzie;
     Stanford--Elgar: ‘King Olaf’; ‘Caractacus’; ‘The Black
     Knight’--Coleridge-Taylor: ‘Hiawatha’ cycle--Dudley Buck:
     ‘The Golden Legend’; ‘The Light of Asia’; Horatio Parker and
     other cantata writers in the United States.


Teutonic genius was supreme in the field of cantata-writing until the
last quarter of the nineteenth century, when there appeared numerous
and worthy rivals. While the Germans have consistently retained their
love for this form and have maintained a numerical lead in actual
production, England, France, Scandinavia, and America have produced
choral works that challenge comparison with the best German standards,
and in some instances have struck out original lines of development
that mark points of notable departure from the older models. The
period covered by this chapter includes the works produced in the last
quarter, or at most the last third, of the nineteenth century, with
some flexibility at either boundary.


                                   I

The most notable exception to the above chronological grouping is
Richard Wagner (1813-1883), who belongs to the preceding chapter as far
as dates are concerned. But so many of the prominent composers here
considered were so strongly influenced, consciously or unconsciously,
by the Bayreuth master’s art-methods and followed them in such a direct
line of succession, that this seems the more fitting place to mention
his brief connection with this field of musical literature.

‘The Love Feast of the Apostles’ (_Das Liebesmahl der Apostel_) was
Wagner’s one and only cantata. It was written in 1843, the same year
as Schumann’s ‘Paradise and Peri’ and three years before Berlioz
completed his ‘Damnation of Faust.’ Wagner had already written ‘The
Flying Dutchman’ and ‘Rienzi’ had been performed in Dresden the summer
preceding the composition of this cantata. The thirty-year-old composer
put into this work much of the dramatic power already hinted at in
‘The Flying Dutchman’ and displayed with such overwhelming power in
his later works. It was written for a great _Männersängerfest_ held in
Dresden in July, 1843, and was first performed under his own direction
on the 6th of the month in the _Frauenkirche_, the orchestra and chorus
numbering one thousand performers. The subject of this Scriptural Scene
was suggested by the fourth chapter of the Acts of the Apostles and
Wagner wrote his own words, as he did in all of his dramatic works.

The opening chorus represents the disciples, drawn together by
persecution, offering consolation to one another. After a few quiet
measures of greeting the voices divide into three choruses, when the
movement accelerates and leads to a powerful climax, ending pianissimo.
The apostles (twelve bass voices) then enter with a hearty greeting,
while the disciples sing softly _Wir sind versammelt im Namen Jesu
Christi_ (‘We are assembled in the name of Jesus Christ’), after which
the united chorus swells forth in a majestic passage, invoking the
blessing of the Holy Spirit, beginning with the words _Allmächt’ger
Vater, der du hast gemacht Himmel und Erd’ und Alles was darin_
(‘Almighty Father, Thou that did’st create Heaven and the Earth and all
that in them is’). Voices from above (as in the last act of ‘Parsifal’)
are then heard singing _Seid getrost, ich bin euch nah_ (‘Peace be
yours, I am at hand’). To this the disciples respond with renewed
vigor, while the apostles counsel unswerving consecration to God. The
work closes with a mighty chorale, _Denn ihm ist alle Herrlichkeit von
Ewigkeit zu Ewigkeit_ (‘To Him all praise and glory be forever and
forever’), its dramatic effect being greatly heightened by the rich
orchestral accompaniment. The orchestra has remained silent until the
final number.

Franz Liszt (1811-1886) was an artist of amazing versatility and
tremendous creative energy. Greatest as a virtuoso and a composer of
instrumental music of striking originality and picturesque romanticism,
he yet wrote liberally in various choral forms. In addition to notable
church works, large and small, and three oratorios, Liszt wrote
several cantatas and shorter choral works--‘The Bells of Strassburg,’
‘St. Cecilia’ (for mezzo-soprano, chorus, and orchestra), _An die
Künstler_ (for solos, male chorus, and orchestra), _Zur Säcular-Feier
Beethoven’s_ (for solos, chorus, and orchestra), _Festalbum_ for
Goethe’s centenary (1849), ‘Prometheus,’ Psalm 13 (for tenor solo,
chorus, and orchestra), Psalm 18 (for male chorus, orchestra, and
organ), Psalm 23 (for tenor or soprano solo with harp and organ), Psalm
137 (for solo and female chorus with violin, harp, piano, and organ),
and a large number of male choruses.

‘The Bells of Strassburg.’--Liszt composed this work (_Die Glocken
des Strassburger Münsters_) in 1874 and dedicated it to Longfellow.
The text is a mere fragment from this poet’s ‘Christus’--the prologue
to ‘The Golden Legend’--and deals with the futile effort of the prince
of darkness and his legions, during a furious night tern nest, to cast
down the cross surmounting the cathedral tower. The work is written
for baritone solo (Lucifer), mixed chorus, and orchestra. It opens
with a short prelude entitled ‘Excelsior,’ consisting of this word
sung several times by the chorus with ever-increasing power, ending
fortissimo. The main movement, called ‘The Bells,’ begins with a
ponderous introduction by the bells, trumpets, and horns, after which
Lucifer hurls forth his first command, exhorting his band of spirits
to tear down the cross. The chorus of spirits (sopranos, altos, and
tenors) replies to this (‘Oh, we cannot, for around it’) and then the
tenors and basses, representing the bells, sing a Latin chant. These
voices continue in the same order, Lucifer’s exhortation and the cry
of helplessness from the evil spirits becoming more and more vehement
as the chant of the bells ever replies in tones of calm trust in the
protecting power. Lucifer’s fourth and last appeal is given with the
full strength of voice and orchestra. In the reply of the chorus the
female voices unite, producing a fine effect with the first and second
tenors. At length Satan, defeated, gives the order to retreat, and the
work closes with the Gregorian chant,

      _Nocte surgentes
      Vigilemus omnes!
      Laudemus Deum verum_,

given by the combined chorus, organ, and orchestra.

_Prometheus._--This cantata, founded on Herder’s poem of the same
name, was composed by Liszt in 1850. He utilizes several of Herder’s
prologues, which describe the situations in words and serve to
introduce the various choral numbers. The first prologue depicts
Prometheus, the Titan, bound to a stake and about to suffer torture for
having stolen fire from heaven. This leads to a chorus of sea-nymphs
(female voices), expressing sorrow and fear. The second prologue
describes the anger of Oceanus at the children of earth for disturbing
his waters and gives Prometheus’ reply. This is followed by a spirited
mixed chorus of Tritons and a lovely melodious chorus of Oceanides
for female voices, closing with a full double chorus, ‘Holy and grand
and free is the gift of Heaven.’ The third prologue introduces the
goddess Gæa with her train of wood-nymphs, loudly weeping. The chorus
of Dryads follows, in the midst of which occurs a very dramatic alto
solo, ‘Deserted stand the Gods’ sacred altars in the old forest.’ In
the dialogue following Gæa upbraids Prometheus, who stoutly defends
himself. The number closes with a mixed chorus of gleaners, which is
full of graceful melody. In the next prologue Bacchus builds an arbor
to soften the Titan’s suffering and a male chorus of vine-dressers
follows. At length an _Allegro moderato_ for orchestra introduces
Hercules, who with an arrow kills the vulture which is about to devour
Prometheus and frees him, bidding him ‘Go hence unto thy mother’s
throne.’ This leads to a stately male chorus, ‘All human foresight
wanders in deepest night.’ The last prologue pictures the pardon of
Prometheus at the throne of Themis, and the work closes with a chorus
of the Muses.


                                   II

The genius of Johannes Brahms (1833-1897) touched many fields and
he was great in every field that he entered--orchestral, pianoforte,
chamber, song and choral. Several of his choral works, notably the
_Deutsches Requiem_, the _Schicksalslied_ and the _Triumphlied_, are
among the great things of choral literature and enjoy undisputed
popularity. Even those that are modest in dimensions are equally
serious with the larger ones in conception and in treatment and spring
from the deep places of the composer’s soul. In all of them, as in
his symphonies, he reached a point of sublimity that had seldom been
touched, if at all, since Beethoven. All of his published compositions
between his opus 40 and opus 60, with two exceptions, were vocal works,
songs or choral. The ‘Requiem’ was opus 45 and his period of greatest
activity as a writer of choral works followed soon after. Of these
only ‘Rinaldo,’ the first one written after the ‘Requiem,’ can really
be called a cantata; the others partake more of the character of the
ode or the choral ballad. They are _Rhapsodie_, founded on fragments
from Goethe’s _Harzreise_ for alto solo, male chorus and orchestra;
_Schicksalslied_ (‘Song of Destiny’) for chorus and orchestra;
_Triumphlied_ (‘Song of Triumph’) for eight-part chorus and orchestra;
_Naenie_ for chorus and orchestra and _Gesang der Parzen_ (‘Song of
the Fates’) for six-part chorus and orchestra, the last two of which
were later compositions in the form of short choral ballads like
the _Schicksalslied_. He wrote liberally in forms approximating the
part-song. In many of the early _Marienlieder_, male choruses and mixed
choruses, he adopts the form of the simple harmonized melody, while
in others, as the two motets, opus 29, he is the direct descendant
of Bach, the contrapuntist. In some of his little known _a cappella_
choruses, as the lovely _Vineta_ from his opus 42 and two from his
opus 104, he produces strange and wonderful effects through a masterly
handling of harmonic changes and melodic interweavings.

‘Song of Triumph.’--Brahms wrote his _Triumphlied_ in 1871 to
commemorate the German victories and the consequent establishment
of the German empire, and he dedicated it to Wilhelm I. Its first
performance was at Vienna in 1872; a repetition occurred at Cologne
in 1873 at the fifty-first Festival of the Lower Rhine. The text was
adapted by the composer from the nineteenth chapter of Revelation. The
work, consisting of three movements, was written for double chorus,
orchestra and organ, together with two short baritone solos. A lively
yet solemn prelude introduces the first number, at the close of which
both choirs enter with the words ‘Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!’
The principal theme of this movement is founded on an old German
song, _Heil dir im Siegerkranz_. This part closes with a tremendous
contrapuntal climax of Handelian proportions. The second part, like
the first, has its prelude, followed by a short fugue, after which a
new melody is introduced and sung antiphonally by the two choirs. The
strongest climax occurs in the third movement. After a brief orchestral
introduction a baritone solo is heard, ‘And behold then the heavens
opened wide,’ to which the choruses reply, ‘And yonder a snow-white
horse.’ Then the baritone sings, ‘And lo! a great name hath He
written,’ following which the choruses utter the stately phrase, ‘King
of Kings and Lord of Lords,’ sung antiphonally with ever-increasing
fervor and ending with the full power of voices, organ and orchestra,
the stately effect of which is beyond description.

The _Schicksalslied_ (‘Song of Destiny’) for chorus and orchestra,
with text by Hölderlin, is a noble and expressive work, which received
its first performance Oct. 18, 1871, at a concert given by the
Carlsruhe Philharmonic Society, the composer conducting. The two ideas
of death and eternal life are placed in juxtaposition and although
these dominant ideas are dramatically balanced against each other,
the close dispels the clouds and lets in a flood of light. Indeed the
composer seems to open heaven itself to his hearers and to usher them
in. While the poet morbidly depicts the existence of immortals on the
one hand and suffering humanity on the other, Brahms, by introducing an
orchestral prelude of great beauty, injects a new idea, namely, that
there is hope for man and that he is not to be ruthlessly chained to
uncertainty or lured by the Unknown. After dramatically setting forth
the two conflicting ideas, in the development of which Brahms closely
follows the poet in the music, he returns once more to the beautiful
music of the introduction, which brings the hearers safely back again
into an atmosphere of peace and hope and solace. It is a striking
example of the power of instrumental music to change the effect
produced by the poetic text.

_Rinaldo._--This cantata is written for tenor solo and male chorus
to a text by Goethe and its value lies in the beauty of the choruses
and in the intimate solos, expressive of the love which has filled
the heart of the hero Rinaldo for the enchantress Armida. The poetic
text, however, is rather vague and leaves too much to the imagination
of the hearer. Armida, the heroine, does not appear at all nor does
the ‘diamond shield,’ to which is assigned such an important function
in rousing the enamored Rinaldo from his shame, and the music is not
sufficiently definite to supply the hearer with the missing links.
Especially effective is the closing chorus, which depicts Rinaldo,
freed from the wiles of the enchantress and safe with the crusaders on
their homeward journey.


                                   III

The mastery of Max Bruch (b. 1838) over concert choral forms has won
him a foremost place among German choral writers of the nineteenth
century and his works are known and valued wherever choral music is
cultivated. He combines fluent, pleasing melody with rare skill in
handling and grouping his orchestral and vocal forces. His choral
writing is always broad, dignified, impressive and vocally grateful.
The list of his choral works is quite imposing. His larger works
comprise the two oratorios _Moses_, opus 67, and _Gustav Adolf_, opus
73, both late compositions, and three epic cantatas, a form to which he
gave especial attention. These three, which are frequently classed as
secular oratorios, are _Odysseus_, opus 41, _Arminius_, opus 43, and
_Achilleus_, opus 50. In addition he has produced a number of shorter
compositions in cantata and choral ballad form. They are, in the order
of their composition, ‘Frithjof Scenes’ for solos, male chorus and
orchestra; ‘Fair Ellen’ for solos, chorus and orchestra; ‘Salamis, a
Triumph-song of the Greeks,’ poem by H. Lingg, for solos, male chorus
and orchestra; ‘Frithjof at His Father’s Grave’ for baritone solo,
female chorus and orchestra; _Normannenzug_ for baritone, male chorus
and orchestra; _Römische Leichenfeier_, text by Lingg, for chorus and
orchestra; ‘The Lay of the Bell’ (_Das Lied der Glocke_) for solos,
chorus and orchestra; ‘The Cross of Fire’ (_Das Feuerkreuz_) for solos,
chorus and orchestra; and ‘Leonidas’ for male chorus and orchestra. He
has also written several very attractive short sacred choruses, among
them the _Jubilate, Amen_, opus 3, for soprano, chorus and orchestra,
and ‘The Flight of the Holy Family’ for chorus and orchestra.

_Frithjof_, for baritone and mezzo-soprano solo voices, male chorus and
orchestra, is one of his finest productions and was his first work to
achieve a signal success. It was written at Mannheim in 1863, when he
was only twenty-five years old, and the extraordinary favor with which
it was received caused this masterwork of the youthful composer to
become the prototype of a numerous group of dramatic cantatas for male
voices that followed in its wake. The text comprises six scenes taken
from Bishop Tegner’s far-famed _Frithjofsaga_.

A lively orchestral introduction, entitled ‘Frithjof’s Return,’ leads
to a beautiful baritone aria, ‘How bravely o’er the floods so bright,’
accompanied by an attractive chorus, ‘O ‘tis delight when the land afar
appeareth.’ The second scene depicts Princess Ingeborg, whom Frithjof
has come home to wed, being led to the altar by King Ring, the result
of a plot by Ingeborg’s brothers against Frithjof. A brief wedding
march is followed by the bridal chorus, ‘Sadly the skald walks before
the train,’ and Ingeborg’s lament, ‘My heart with sorrow overflowing.’
The next scene, ‘Frithjof’s Revenge,’ intensely dramatic both in the
vocal score and the rich instrumentation, opens with a chorus of
priests, ‘Midnight sun on the mountain burns,’ in the midst of which
is heard Frithjof’s cry, ‘Go to Hela’s dark abode,’ and after it his
rugged aria, ‘Where my father rests.’ As he sings this, he fires the
temple and flees to his ship, amid the dramatic and descriptive cries
of the people and Frithjof’s followers, and the curses of the priests.
This chorus is a work of great tonal beauty, portraying vividly the
dramatic action of the text. The fourth number, entitled ‘Frithjof’s
Departure from the Northland,’ opens with a male quartet of exceptional
charm, followed by Frithjof’s powerful solo, ‘World’s grandest region,
thou mighty North!’ In the fifth scene occurs ‘Ingeborg’s Lament,’ a
sorrowful and pathetic heart-cry to her lost lover, ‘Storms wildly
roar,’ after which comes the finale, a spirited chorus sung by Frithjof
and his men as they sail away in the good ship ‘Ellida’ in quest of
further adventures.

The story of Bruch’s ‘Fair Ellen’ is laid at Lucknow, British India,
and the story is founded on an incident said to have occurred during
the famous siege of this city in 1857, when a Scotch girl, fair Ellen,
heard, above the din of battle, the shrill bagpipes of the Macgregors
in the far distance, as the relief party approached, playing ‘The
Campbells are Coming.’ Her inspired words of hope and encouragement
stirred the despairing defenders to renewed resistance, beating off
the besiegers until rescue was at hand. The cantata, the text of which
is Emanuel Geibel’s ballad of the same name, was written in 1869. It
is of modest dimensions, embracing solos for soprano and baritone,
and five chorus numbers. The music, following Bruch’s style, is rich
in instrumentation, while the choruses are full of fine melody. The
Scotch tune, ‘The Campbells are Coming,’ is introduced many times
in the orchestral score, and at the close the composer makes a fine
climax by broadening out the joyous march-melody into a devout hymn of
thanksgiving.

‘The Cross of Fire,’ a dramatic cantata founded on incidents in Sir
Walter Scott’s ‘Lady of the Lake,’ was composed in 1888 and is one of
the finest of Bruch’s later choral works. It was an ancient custom
in the Highlands of Scotland, when one clan declared war on another,
to call the clansmen to arms by means of a ‘cross of fire.’ After
solemn consecration at the altar, this war-signal was carried with all
possible speed from post to post by noble messengers and in its wake
the men-at-arms assembled. Bruch’s librettist, Heinrich Bulthaupt,
opens the cantata at the point in Scott’s familiar poem where Norman,
a noble Highlander, is proudly leading his bride Mary, a noble maiden,
to a near-by mountain chapel to celebrate the wedding ceremony. The
wedding train approaches the church to the festal sounds of organ and a
wedding anthem. As the ceremony is about to begin, Angus, a messenger,
rushes in with the cross of fire and hurriedly hands it to Norman with
the chieftain’s command to bear it to the nearest post. Norman bids
a heart-broken farewell to his bride and hurries off followed by his
warriors. Poet and composer now describe the feelings of Norman on his
rapid journey, battling between duty and love. The rising of the clan
in response to the war-signal is given vivid portrayal. Then follows
the best-known number of the cantata, the beautiful _Ave Maria_, in
which the despairing Mary expresses her emotions at being left alone.
The stirring war-song, ‘Clan Alpin! Clan Alpin!’ in which Norman rouses
his warriors to a high pitch of bravery, is an impressive number, and
Bruch with fine effect uses an old Scotch battle-song. The final number
is a masterly concerted piece. Mary and her maidens anxiously watch
the ebb and flow of battle from a neighboring hill-top. The cry goes
up that Norman has fallen, but shouts of victory are soon heard, the
valiant Norman appears and rapturously throws himself in Mary’s arms,
and joy and happiness reign. This number is massive, full of life,
vigor, and effective contrast, and furnishes a brilliant climax to the
whole work.

Schiller’s ‘Lay of the Bell’ has furnished inspiration to numerous
composers. Romberg’s cantata has already been described and this
called forth several rivals. Bruch’s is the most pretentious of them
and approaches closely to the oratorio form. The poem loses in musical
setting through its over-abundance of rapidly-passing scenes--there
are twenty-seven numbers grouped into two parts--but the music abounds
in moments of great beauty, especially in such choral numbers as the
final one in the first part, ‘One blest assurance yet is granted,’
the funeral chorus in the second part (‘From the steeple, sad and
slow’), the chorus, ‘Hallowed Order, child of Heaven,’ which is one
of the most elaborate of the work, and the finale with preceding bass
solo, ‘Heave it, brothers, heave it high!’ Near the close a charming
trio for soprano, alto and tenor voices appears (‘Peace benignant,
gentle Concord’) into the accompaniment of which Bruch has skilfully
and effectively interwoven the melody of the familiar Christmas song,
‘Silent night, hallowed night!’

For each of his great epic cantatas Bruch chose a warrior
hero--Frithjof the Viking, Arminius the German liberator, Odysseus
and Achilles, the Greek chieftains. _Odysseus_ was first performed
in Bremen in 1873. It was written to the poem of Wilhelm Paul Graff,
which, like the ‘Frithjof,’ consists of a series of scenes or episodes.
These are grouped into two parts, the first containing four scenes and
the second six, drawn from the adventurous and picturesque life of the
King of Ithaca. Arminius, equally epic in feeling and treatment, was
written in 1875 to a poem by F. Cueppers. The scene is laid in Germany,
the time being from 9 to 13 A. D. when Arminius (Latin for Hermann)
laid the foundations of the political league of the Germanic tribes
by uniting them for the time being against the common Roman foe and
throwing off the Roman yoke. The work is in four parts--‘Introduction,’
‘In the Sacred Forest,’ ‘The Insurrection,’ and ‘The Battle’--and
closes with an inspiring patriotic hymn of stately proportions,
‘Germany’s sons shall be renowned.’ The part of Arminius (baritone)
is particularly fine throughout. Both of these cantatas are equally
popular and they were followed in 1885 by another on the same general
lines, _Achilleus_, to the poem by H. Bulthaupt, the motives of which
are drawn from Homer’s _Iliad_. This is in many respects a greater work
than its predecessors; it is laid out on broader lines, the orchestral
part seeks greater recognition and the composer frequently and with
tremendous effect employs the double chorus in building up massive
polyphonic climaxes.


                                   IV

Joseph Rheinberger (1839-1901) is a prolific composer who has
contributed most liberally to choral literature. In this field and
that of organ he is at his best. _Christophorus_, sometimes called an
oratorio, was written in 1880 and is based on the mediæval legend of
the giant who, notwithstanding his mighty strength, sought a master
to serve who was most powerful on earth and who knew no fear. But he
found that the mightiest earthly monarch feared Satan and that Satan
shrank in terror before the Cross, so he gladly became the servant of
the Lord of the Cross. The composer mingles sacred and secular elements
in a masterly manner; portions of the work, particularly the closing
numbers of the first part, belong to the richest and most beautiful
choral writing of the last half of the nineteenth century. ‘The Star
of Bethlehem,’ a Christmas cantata, possesses sustained beauty and is
conceived in a lofty vein. _Das Thal des Espingo_, a choral ballad for
male voices and orchestra (poem by Paul Heyse), is one of the finest
examples of its kind. ‘Clarice of Eberstein,’ ‘Toggenburg,’ ‘Montfort,’
_Die Rosen von Hildesheim_ for male chorus and wind instruments, and
_Wittekind_ are among the finest of his secular compositions.

Antonin Dvořák (1841-1904) is the one representative Bohemian
composer who has given serious attention to the larger choral forms.
His greatest compositions in this field, however, were written,
not for performance in his native land, but for the great English
festivals--the _Stabat Mater_, composed in 1876 and performed March
10th, 1883, by the London Musical Society, the ‘Spectre’s Bride,’
written for the Birmingham Festival of 1885, ‘St. Ludmila’ (oratorio)
for the Leeds Festival of 1886, and the Requiem Mass for the Birmingham
Festival of 1891. England did valiant service in calling the world’s
attention to Dvořák’s unique genius.

‘The Spectre’s Bride.’--This well-known cantata is founded upon an old
legend, current among all Slavic nations, about a maiden, who, deserted
by her lover and awaiting his return, was enticed away at midnight by
a spectre, only to be led over hill and dale, amid grewsome horrors,
to the graveyard. There she took refuge in a tiny house where she was
beset by spectres, and the moonlight revealed, lying on a plank, a
revivified corpse, which rose up and glared at her. Her fervent prayers
to the Virgin finally ended the hideous spell. A cock crew, dawn came,
and the girl wended her way home in the peaceful morning. When the work
was performed at Birmingham it was received with great enthusiasm and,
despite its horrible story, it is a masterpiece of dramatic narrative
and descriptive realism.

The cantata consists of eighteen numbers. Eleven of these are allotted
to the narrator (baritone), who, with the choral responses and
supported by vividly descriptive instrumentation, gives a realistic
portrayal of the frightful scenes. The weirdness of the music increases
in intensity up to the entrance of the maiden in the house of the
dead. In the seven remaining numbers other solo voices are heard. The
lament of the maiden (soprano) for her lost lover and, at the close,
her fervent appeal to the Virgin are fascinating in their beauty.
There are also four duets sung by the bride and the spectre (tenor),
together with one in which the chorus participates. As Hadow says in
his ‘Studies in Modern Music’ (Vol. II, p. 206): ‘There is too much
monotony of suffering; there is too much gloom and terror and pain;
a tragedy so unrelieved comes near to overstraining the sympathy
of the spectator.’ Yet the musical appeal, through the composer’s
inexhaustible resources of rhythmic, harmonic and melodic effects,
garbed in gorgeous orchestral colors, softens the horrors and lightens
the prevailing darkness of the poem.

Heinrich Karl Johann Hofmann (1842-1902) had the good fortune to win
public recognition in different fields in rapid succession. In three
successive years his ‘Hungarian Suite’ for orchestra (1873), his
‘Frithjof’ symphony (1874), and his cantata ‘Melusina’ (1875) achieved
such instant favor that he soon became one of the best-known of the
contemporary German composers. While these successes were somewhat
ephemeral and while he manifested a tendency to sacrifice individuality
of expression to sensuous charm and formal beauty, the ‘Melusina’
deserves long life. He followed the lead of Schumann in choosing
legends and fairy tales as subjects for his most successful cantatas.
These are, in addition to the one just mentioned, _Aschenbrödel_
(‘Cinderella’), _Nornengesang_ (‘Song of the Norns’) for female chorus,
and _Waldfräulein_.

The ‘Legend of the Fair Melusina’ was composed in 1875. Melusina, a
fountain nymph, becomes betrothed to Count Raymond and marries him
under the agreement that she may go her own way one day in every seven,
without question or hindrance on his part. In these intervals she again
becomes a mermaid and bathes with her nymphs in her native fountain.
Later, urged by his mother Clotilda and his uncle Sintram, who are
consumed with jealousy and curiosity, Raymond invades her privacy.
Doomed by this violation of his compact to eternal separation, he
embraces Melusina for the last time and dies in her arms. The weeping
nymph returns to her former element. The music is not difficult and
is replete with melody of captivating charm. The melodious prologue,
the rollicking hunting song, the rapturous love-duet, the chorus of
nymphs at the fountain with Melusina, the dramatic choral accusation of
the people against Melusina, the final duet with choral accompaniment
leading to the tragic dénouement--all these have contributed to make
this one of the most musically effective of the more unpretentious
cantatas.

Hermann Goetz (1840-1876) was cut off too early in his career to have
given full expression to his undeniably great talent, yet he has left
at least one choral work that demonstrated love for, and ability in,
this form. In his setting of Schiller’s _Nänia_ (_Auch das Schöne muss
sterben_) for chorus and orchestra, as well as the 137th Psalm (‘By the
Waters of Babylon’) for soprano, chorus and orchestra, he reveals a
close kinship to both Schumann and Brahms in his effective handling of
voices and instruments.


                                   V

Edvard Hagerup Grieg (1843-1907), the greatest of the Scandinavian
composers, chose musical forms of modest mold and outline--such as
his altogether charming songs and piano pieces--for many of his most
fragrant and characteristic thoughts. He wrote only three choral
pieces--all in the smaller forms, but all individual, brilliant and
full of his peculiarly charming idiom. They are _Vor der Klosterpforte_
(‘At the Convent Door’) for solo, female voices and orchestra, the
well-known and vigorous _Landerkennung_ (‘Land Discovery’) for male
chorus and orchestra and the Scenes from Björnson’s unfinished drama,
_Olaf Trygvasson_, for solos, chorus and orchestra. The last is the
largest and most elaborate of the three and has for its subject-matter
the efforts of Olaf, a descendant of Harold Haarfagar (the first king
of Norway) but brought up in banishment, to conquer Norway and convert
its people from Paganism to Christianity.

For fully thirty years after the middle of the nineteenth century had
been passed, French composers were still too firmly wedded to the
operatic stage to give more than fleeting attention to choral forms of
the cantata type, and few French names of this period, therefore, will
find place here.

Charles Gounod (1818-1893), who turned his thoughts almost exclusively
to religious music in the later years of his life, wrote several
oratorios which will be mentioned in detail in Chapter VIII. His
smaller works--the 137th Psalm (‘By Babylon’s Wave’), the 129th
Psalm (‘Out of Darkness’), and especially the motet, ‘Gallia,’ with
soprano solo--evidence a fund of pleasing melody that, while not
ecclesiastical in feeling, lies close enough to the apprehension of the
average listener to make his music deeply prized by lovers of sweet
melody. The ‘Gallia’ (to words from the Lamentations of Jeremiah) is
a lamentation over the disaster that befell his country in the war of
1870; it was written for soprano, chorus and orchestra and was first
produced at the Albert Hall, London, May 1, 1871, at the opening of
the International Exhibition. Théodore Dubois (born 1837), who was
one of the many winners of the coveted _Prix de Rome_, on his return
from Italy produced an important choral work, ‘The Seven Last Words of
Christ’ (_Les sept Paroles du Christ_), on Good Friday, 1867, at St.
Clotilde’s, of which he was then choir-master. The writer of melodious
opera-music, Jules Massenet (1842-1912), has written one charming
cantata, _Narcisse_ (‘Narcissus’), for chorus and orchestra, that was
produced in 1877. After 1880, however, choral works in the smaller
forms became more numerous in France.

At the beginning of the last quarter of the nineteenth century elements
of distinctive individuality began to creep into English cantata-music
and assert themselves more and more. Out of the mass of cantatas that
came into being to feed the choral appetites of the vast number of
English singing societies and festivals, works of impressive beauty
and fine workmanship appeared that would reflect credit on the choral
literature of any nation. English composers have seized upon the
ballad, the legend and the fairy-tale, upon scenes from secular and
sacred history, and have exercised especial industry in using them as
material for choral works. Their number is so great that but a few can
be named.

Arthur Seymour Sullivan (1842-1900) is best known in the field of
cantata by the ‘Golden Legend,’ though it was preceded by two others,
‘Kenilworth,’ written in 1864 for the Birmingham Festival, and ‘The
Martyr of Antioch,’ in 1875, for the Leeds Festival.

‘The Golden Legend’ received its first presentation at the Leeds
Musical Festival in 1886. The text consists of those portions of
Longfellow’s poem which concern Elsie and Prince Henry. Joseph Bennett,
who acted as librettist, has arranged these into six scenes with a
prologue and epilogue. The prologue describes the attempts of Lucifer
and his spirits to tear down the cross from the spire of Strassburg
Cathedral, Lucifer being a baritone, his spirits sopranos and altos,
and the bells tenors and basses. In the opening scene of the legend
Prince Henry in his chamber sings ‘I cannot sleep.’ This is followed by
the temptation duet with Lucifer, which ends with an angels’ chorus. In
Scene II Ursula, Elsie’s mother, sits before her cottage and sings an
evening song and the villagers are heard in a beautiful choral hymn, ‘O
gladsome light.’ In the following dialogue Elsie discloses her decision
to offer her life for the prince and then sings the beautiful prayer,
‘My Redeemer and my Lord.’

Scene III is on the road to Salerno; Henry and Elsie sing a graceful
duet, ‘Sweet is the air with budding haws’; pilgrims pass, intoning a
Latin hymn, and Lucifer, among them, utters his mocking lines, ‘Here
am I, too, in the pious band’; the prince’s song of greeting to the
sea is heard, and also a sweet song by Elsie, ‘The night is calm and
cloudless,’ effectively repeated with full chorus. Scene IV is at the
Medical School at Salerno. Lucifer, disguised as Friar Angelo, leads
Elsie away to her sacrifice, but she is rescued by the repentant
prince. The music to this dramatic scene is most stirring. In Scene V,
before Ursula’s cottage, a messenger recites the prince’s miraculous
cure and Elsie’s safety; after which Ursula’s prayer of thanksgiving
is heard, ‘Virgin, who lovest the poor and lowly.’ The last scene is
at the Castle of Vautsberg on the Rhine, on the evening of the wedding
day. After a joyous duet by Prince Henry and his bride (now the Lady
Alicia), there follows a choral epilogue, rising at the end to a great
fugal climax.

Joseph Barnby’s (1838-1896) part-songs and church-music and his long
experience as conductor of important choral societies gave him a large
influence with an important section of English lovers of choral music.
His choral pieces include the melodious psalm, ‘The Lord is King,’
written for the Leeds Festival of 1883, and the cantata ‘Rebekah,’
which he characterizes as a ‘sacred idyll.’

‘Rebekah’ was written in 1870 and is undoubtedly his finest work. It
deals with the wooing of Rebekah by Isaac as related in the Scriptures
and done into verse by Arthur Matthison. The first and last choruses
disclose some effective modern fugue-writing that is melodious and
expressive as well as contrapuntally interesting. The last chorus,
especially, builds up to a massive and vocally brilliant climax.
Probably the best-known number is Isaac’s solo, the favorite tenor
aria, ‘The soft southern breeze plays around me.’

Alfred Robert Gaul (1837-1913) is the composer of many pleasing and
popular cantatas, mostly on sacred subjects, the most widely known of
which are ‘The Holy City,’ ‘Ruth,’ ‘The Ten Virgins’ and ‘Joan of Arc.’

Sir John Stainer (1840-1901) writes in a more serious style, but yet
more suited to church choirs than to large choral bodies. ‘The Daughter
of Jairus,’ ‘The Crucifixion’ (A Meditation for Passion Week), and ‘St.
Mary Magdalen’ are his more familiar cantatas.

Frederic Hymen Cowen (born 1852) has been a prolific writer of
cantatas, no fewer than seven having come from his pen. They are ‘The
Rose Maiden’ (1870), ‘The Corsair’ (1876), ‘St. Ursula’ (1881), ‘The
Sleeping Beauty’ (1885), ‘St. John’s Eve’ (1889), ‘The Water Lily’
(1893), and ‘The Transfiguration’ (1895). Some of these, particularly
‘The Rose Maiden,’ have attained wide popularity because of their easy,
fluent melody and pleasing part-writing.


                                   VI

It remained for three Englishmen, all born within five years of each
other--Mackenzie (1847), Parry (1848) and Stanford (1852)--to break
away from the traditions of English choral music and to venture to say
their musical thoughts in their own way. The point of departure from
the old to the new paths bases itself squarely on the work of this
trio. Cowen and Cordor (both born in 1852) added nothing of importance
to the musical means of expression employed by this trio, but Elgar
(born in 1857) has carried forward English choral music to heights
never before attained. The decade between 1847 and 1857, therefore,
is memorable in English musical history in having witnessed the birth
of the men who are most responsible for the remarkable revolution in
the character of English choral music witnessed in the last quarter of
the nineteenth century. It is a curious coincidence that the ode, a
form cultivated with such industrious zeal by early English composers,
should have appealed with great force to all of the trio mentioned
above, as a musical form worthy of revival. No less than fourteen odes
came from their pens.

When the first important choral work of Charles Hubert H. Parry (b.
1848), scenes from Shelley’s ‘Prometheus Unbound,’ was produced at
the Gloucester Festival of 1880, its new tone of confident assertion
was recognized as the beginning of a new era in English music, though
its success with the public was very small. Works of impressive
significance followed in quick succession and he became a figure of
dominant importance in English musical life. In addition to three
oratorios and several works combining symphonic and choral forms, he
has written an imposing list of shorter choral works. The ordinary form
of the cantata has little appeal for him, and none of his choral works
is so named. ‘The Pied Piper of Hamelin,’ however, is really a cantata
in feeling, even though it requires very slight solo work. He reaches
superb heights of sustained expression in some of his odes--he wrote
ten in all--that stamp his choral writing with qualities of superlative
excellence, among which are perfect accentuation, mastery of expressive
counterpoint and remarkable handling of large tonal masses so as to
produce the greatest effects of sonority and breadth. These qualities
appear with conspicuous force in his famous ‘Blest Pair of Sirens,’
an ode by John Milton, set for eight-part chorus and orchestra, and
first sung in 1887 by the Bach Choir. Other choral works before 1900
that added greatly to his reputation are ‘The Glories of Our Blood and
State,’ a funeral ode by James Shirley, produced at the Gloucester
Festival of 1883, ‘Ode on St. Cecilia’s Day’ (poem by Pope) at Leeds,
1889, _L’Allegro ed il Penseroso_ (poem by Milton) at Norwich, 1890,
‘Invocation to Music’ (ode in memory of Purcell by Robert Bridges) at
Leeds, 1895, and ‘The Lotus-Eaters,’ a choral song, 1892.

With the exception of ‘The Witch’s Daughter,’ performed at the
Leeds Festival of 1904, all of the cantatas and shorter choral works
of Alexander Campbell Mackenzie (born 1847) fall within the period
covered by the present chapter. Attention was first attracted to his
fine command of choral technique by ‘The Bride,’ a cantata founded on
a poem by the German poet, Hamerling, and performed at the Gloucester
Festival of 1881. Possibly his highest point of artistic effectiveness
is reached in his fine _Veni, Creator Spiritus_, set to Dryden’s
paraphrase and produced at the Birmingham Festival, 1891. Burns’ ‘The
Cotter’s Saturday Night’ furnished inspiration for one of his most
characteristic works (for chorus only) and naturally appealed strongly
to his national feeling and idiom. His other cantatas include ‘Jason’
(Bristol Festival, 1882), ‘The Story of Sayid’ (Leeds, 1886), founded
on Edwin Arnold’s ‘Pearls of the Faith,’ and the ‘Dream of Jubal’
(Liverpool Philharmonic, 1889). In the last-named cantata he employs a
reciter in addition to soloists and chorus.

The cumulative effect of the artistic activity of the notable trio
named above may find partial explanation in the fact that together
they represent the three dominant national branches of the United
Kingdom--Parry the Englishman, Mackenzie the Scotchman and Stanford
the Irishman. The works of these three brilliant exponents of British
music reveal many idioms traceable to their respective racial
characteristics. In the two choral ballads of Charles Villiers Stanford
(born 1852)--‘The Voyage of Maeldune’ (Leeds Festival, 1889), poem by
Tennyson, and ‘Phaudrig Crohoore’ (Norwich Festival, 1896), poem by J.
S. Le Fanu--traits of Irish folk-song appear on many a page and lend to
the music individuality and a fragrant beauty. Indeed, he has achieved
some of his greatest successes in his choral ballads. His splendid
setting of Tennyson’s ‘The Revenge’ (Leeds Festival, 1896), with its
snappy, breezy and, withal, brilliant style, tempted him to set another
nautical ballad, Campbell’s ‘The Battle of the Baltic,’ which, however,
is hardly as effective. His style is more eclectic than that of his two
great contemporaries, combining some of the best German and English
qualities with his own individual mode of utterance. His oratorios will
be mentioned in another place. He has made very notable contributions
to sacred and church music, especially liturgical music.


                                   VII

Sir Edward Elgar’s[71] position as not only the leader among English
composers of the present, but as one of the greatest of contemporary
creative musicians, is amply buttressed by a series of works in
orchestral and choral fields, which, though not conspicuous by its
length, is remarkable for the strength and originality of their
musical ideas, the vigor of treatment and the supreme command which
the composer displays over the technical means of expression. Most of
his greatest works are discussed in other sections of this series, yet
it was in the field of cantata that his name first rose to prominence
and the English festivals furnished the occasion, as in the case
of so many other English composers. ‘The Black Knight’ had found a
respectful hearing at the Worcester Festival of 1893 and the ‘Scenes
from the Bavarian Highlands’ at the same Festival in 1896, but the
production of the ‘Scenes from the Saga of King Olaf’ at the North
Staffordshire Festival at Hanley in 1896 created a profound impression
and its remarkable success raised his name at once to a place among the
great ones of music. ‘The Banner of St. George’ followed in 1897 and
‘Caractacus,’ the finest of his cantatas, in 1898.

‘The Black Knight,’ for chorus and orchestra, is a setting of
Longfellow’s translation of Uhland’s poem, _Der schwarze Ritter_, and
the music with virile urgency sets forth the dramatic incidents of
this ballad of the mysterious ‘sable knight,’ whose visit at the court
festivities of an ancient king caused the sudden death of the king’s
two children. Elgar’s maturer style is clearly foreshadowed in this
early work.

‘The Banner of St. George,’ a ballad for chorus and orchestra, with
text by Shapcott Wensley, was inspired by the occasion of the Diamond
Jubilee of Queen Victoria in 1897 and was performed the same year.
The poem is divided into two scenes, dealing with the deliverance of
a princess from the dragon by the valiant Saint George of Sabra, and
an epilogue in which Elgar makes characteristic use of a stirring
‘marching’ melody, to words of patriotic sentiment, in building up a
rousing choral climax.

‘Scenes from the Saga of King Olaf’ is a setting of Longfellow’s words
with additions and connecting passages by H. A. Acworth. The vigorous
and individual style of the preceding works here finds full fruition
and Elgar stands forth as a matured creator, full armed and conscious
of his strength. The poetical selections are grouped into eight scenes
with introduction and epilogue. These include the remarkably strong and
dramatic ‘Challenge of Thor,’ as the Norse god hurls defiance at the
Christian religion; King Olaf’s return to Norway and his acceptance of
the challenge; the breaking of the image of Thor and the conversion
of Olaf’s subjects; ‘The Wraith of Odin,’ a stirring choral ballad
relating the mysterious visit of the spirit of Odin to the banquet
hall; the wooing of Sigrid, queen of Svithiod, by King Olaf, which is
preceded by a charming chorus of the minstrel maids of the queen; the
choral ballad of Thyri, sister of Svend, the Danish king, who flees
from her betrothed to King Olaf’s court for protection--one of the
finest parts of the cantata--followed by the lovely duet of Thyri and
Olaf; and the death of Olaf in the fierce sea-battle with the Danes,
thrillingly related by the chorus. In the epilogue the efficacy of
Christian love in converting the world is contrasted with that of the
sword and gives occasion to Elgar for constructing a choral climax,
beginning _a cappella_ with the words, ‘As torrents in summer, half
dried in their channels,’ that for simple beauty and sustained power of
expression has few equals in choral literature. Three solo voices are
added to the choral forces at the end.

‘Caractacus,’ written to the poem by H. A. Acworth for the Leeds
Musical Festival of 1898, stands in the natural progressive order
of his secular cantatas as the strongest of the series and, in many
respects, the most remarkable of its class in any country or period.
Elgar, in this and later choral works, appears in the double rôle
of symphonist and choral writer, for the orchestra frequently rises
into momentary preëminence and overshadows the choral machinery as a
medium of expression. ‘Caractacus’ must be thought of in its orchestral
coloring in order to grasp its full strength and beauty, for Elgar is a
master of all modern orchestral resources.

This cantata was written at the composer’s home at Malvern in the
immediate environment of the stirring scenes related in its score and
enacted in ancient times by the heroic defenders of British freedom,
for it was at Malvern Hills on the Welsh frontier that Caractacus
made his final stand against the legions of Rome. The work is in six
scenes, the first depicting Caractacus and his warriors in his British
camp at Malvern Hills at night. It opens after a short orchestral
introduction with the stirring chorus, ‘Watchmen, alert!’ The king’s
daughter Eigen and her betrothed Orbin break in upon the sad reveries
of the disheartened monarch and their recital of the warning of the
Druid maiden ushers in the beautiful trio sung by Eigen, Orbin and
Caractacus, ‘At eve to the greenwood we wandered away.’ As they
depart, the Spirits of the Hills sing a calm benediction, ‘Rest,
weary monarch,’ one of the loveliest choral portions of the work,
scored with consummate skill for both chorus and orchestra. The second
scene shifts the action to the sacred oak grove and deals with the
rites of the Druids as they cast the omens. There is a mystic dance
of the Druid-maidens, ‘Tread the measure left and right,’ which is
an inspiration of enthralling beauty and rhythmic grace but which
never loses a certain solemn dignity. As the dance ceases, there
follows the impassioned invocation to Taranis. The king enters, the
Arch-Druid deceives him as to the omens, Orbin protests, but is cursed
and driven forth by the Druids. The close of the scene is built up
around the vigorous soldiers’ chorus, ‘Leap to the light, my brand
of fight,’ and the contrasting chorus of Druids as they call down
curses on Orbin. The third scene pictures the parting of the lovers as
Orbin joins the force of Caractacus. It opens with a graceful rustic
chorus of youths and maidens who are with Eigen, twining wreaths of
flowers, ‘Come beneath our woodland bow’rs.’ The scene closes with
the beautiful duet of the parting lovers. The fourth scene is again
on Malvern Hills and Eigen and her maidens anxiously discuss the
rumors of distant battle. The return of Caractacus and the remnants
of his defeated army brings this part to a close with the impressive
lament of Caractacus (in 7-pulse measure) accompanied by the chorus of
warriors. Soon afterwards Caractacus and his family are betrayed to
the enemy and scene five, which is short, relates the embarking of the
British captives in Roman galleys. The final scene is the triumphal
procession in Rome, beginning with a pompous orchestral march followed
by full chorus and dramatic solos by the captives--Caractacus, Eigen
and Orbin. Their bold independence and intrepid defense before the
tribunal of the emperor, Claudius, win pardon and an honored home in
Rome. The subject is one that might well appeal to a British composer,
and Elgar, with magnificent effect, seizes the opportunity to add a
stirring epilogue--‘The clang of arms is over’--which unfolds, as it
develops, some pages of patriotic sentiment (‘Britons, alert!’) that
are thrilling in their majestic power.


                                   VIII

Musical history has often been called upon to record the fact that a
gifted composer’s firstling has been his best. In the case of Samuel
Coleridge-Taylor (1875-1912) his creative imagination never again
reached such fine heights of inspired effort as those attained in its
first flight. His greatest work is undoubtedly the cantata, ‘Hiawatha’s
Wedding Feast’--the first of the ‘Hiawatha’ trilogy--performed
November 11, 1898, at the Royal College of Music, London, while the
composer was still a student at this institution. The second part of
the trilogy, ‘The Death of Minnehaha,’ was brought out in 1899 at the
North Staffordshire Festival, and the third, ‘Hiawatha’s Departure,’
made its first public appearance at a concert of the Royal Choral
Society, at Albert Hall, March 22, 1900. Two months later the overture
to the entire work received its initial performance. The text for
the whole trilogy is selected from Longfellow’s familiar ‘The Song
of Hiawatha.’ This poem, which handles with childlike simplicity and
directness the emotions and experiences of a primitive race, seems to
have struck deep into the soul of this Anglo-African composer and he
has imbued the score, especially of the first part, with an atmosphere
of individuality possessed by none of its successors. He touched a new
vein here which he was not able to inject with equal success into his
other works. The score abounds in concise, characteristic and striking
themes, many of which are treated in the manner of ‘leading-motives.’

‘Scenes from the Song of Hiawatha.’--The first part of the trilogy
is ‘Hiawatha’s Wedding-Feast,’ for tenor solo, chorus and orchestra.
‘Sumptuous was the feast Nakomis made at Hiawatha’s wedding’ and the
detailed description includes not only the banquet itself but the
entertainment which followed, how Pau-Puk-Keewis danced,

      ‘How the gentle Chibiabos,
      He the sweetest of musicians,
      Sang his songs of love and longing;
      How Iagoo, the great boaster,
      Told his tales of strange adventure.’

Chibiabos’ song, the beautiful tenor solo, ‘Onaway, awake, beloved!’ is
one of the gems of the whole trilogy.

The second part--‘The Death of Minnehaha,’ for soprano and baritone
solos, chorus and orchestra--begins with the description of the ‘long
and dreary winter! the cold and cruel winter!’ and continues with the
pathetic story of the wasting famine and the fever, how Minnehaha
shuddered at the words of the two uninvited guests, ‘lay down on her
bed in silence,’ how Hiawatha plunged into the forest in search of
food only to return ‘empty-handed, heavy-hearted.’ Then follows the
death and burial of Minnehaha and the lament of Hiawatha. The pathos of
the words is given striking setting in the music, particularly in the
opening chorus, ‘O the long and dreary winter!’ and in Hiawatha’s noble
lament, ‘Farewell, O Minnehaha!’ which the chorus gently echoes after
him. The chief share of the work is allotted to the chorus.

The third part--‘Hiawatha’s Departure,’ for soprano, tenor and
baritone solos, chorus and orchestra--is the longest of the three
and has more opportunity for varied effects. Reminiscences of themes
from the preceding parts give pleasing thematic unity to the whole
work. It begins with the return of spring and with it Iagoo, the great
traveller, ‘full of new and strange adventures.’ He relates to an
incredulous audience how he saw a water ‘bigger than the Big-Sea-Water’
and on it a tall canoe with great wings, ‘bigger than a grove of
pine-trees,’ in which were warriors ‘painted white.’ Hiawatha, of
all the listeners, laughed not, for he had seen the same things in a
vision. He tells them of the coming of the white men and prophesies
their achievements and the downfall of the Indian race. Then follows,
in simple narrative, Hiawatha’s welcome to the white men and the
missionary priest who came with them to tell the message of the
Saviour; Hiawatha’s touching farewell to Nakomis and his people (‘I am
going, O my people, on a long and distant journey. To the portals of
the Sunset, to the regions of the home-wind’); and his departure in the
birch canoe as he ‘sailed into the fiery sunset, To the Islands of the
Blessed, to the land of the Hereafter!’ Musically the third part is
unequal to the others in the strength of its appeal, yet at the close,
Hiawatha’s tender words of parting and the answering farewell of the
people are written in the virile and characteristic mood of the first
part. The solo voices assume a larger share of work than in the other
parts.

Coleridge-Taylor’s other choral works were of course in demand after
the success of his first one, but, though received with favor, they do
not measure up to the first, nor did they make the deep impression of
the ‘Hiawatha’ music.


                                   IX

The United States did not enter the list of cantata and oratorio
producing nations until the last quarter of the nineteenth century.
Before that time W. B. Bradbury, J. A. Butterfield, A. Hamerik, George
F. Root and others had prepared the way for their successors by choral
works of a simple, popular character suited to the musical conditions
of their time. On account of the number, musical quality, size and
extensive influence of his choral works, Dudley Buck may justly be
accorded the honor of being the first important choral writer in
America.

The influence of Dudley Buck (1839-1909) in the field of church-music
was probably stronger and more fundamental and lasting than in that
of concert choral music, for the needs of American church-music could
not be met, as could those of choral societies, by mere importation of
foreign-made music. Yet his concert choral works are quite numerous.
They include the 46th Psalm, written for the Boston Handel and Haydn
Society, 1872; ‘Don Munio,’ a dramatic cantata written in 1874, whose
story is taken from Washington Irving’s Spanish papers and deals with
the wars and loves of the Moorish period; four cantatas for male
voices--‘King Olaf’s Christmas,’ ‘The Nun of Nidaros’ (1878), ‘The
Voyage of Columbus’ (1885) and ‘Paul Revere’s Ride’; ‘The Centennial
Meditation of Columbia,’ written for the Centennial Exposition and
performed at Philadelphia, May 10, 1876; ‘The Golden Legend,’ to
which was awarded the prize offered by the Cincinnati May Festival
Association for the best work by an American and which received its
initial performance at the Festival in 1880; and his largest and most
pretentious choral work, ‘The Light of Asia.’

‘The Golden Legend’ is, like Sullivan’s cantata of the same name, a
setting of a portion of Longfellow’s ‘Christus.’ The text is divided
into a prologue, twelve scenes and an epilogue. The story is identical
with that of Sullivan’s cantata already mentioned and the music on
the whole rises to a higher plane of excellence. Especially effective
and deservedly well-known is Elsie’s prayer in the fifth scene (‘My
Redeemer and my Lord’), an aria breathing a deep religious feeling
and filled with calm beauty. Buck is at his best in such numbers as
the simple hymn for unaccompanied quartet (‘O gladsome light of the
Father’), Elsie’s charming aria in the ninth scene (‘The night is calm
and cloudless’ with a choral refrain of _Kyrie eleison_), and the
love-duet between Elsie and Prince Henry in the twelfth scene.

‘The Light of Asia’ was written in 1886, published in London and
performed there for the first time in St. James’s Hall, March 19,
1889. The well-known poem by Sir Edwin Arnold naturally lends itself
to elaborate treatment and the composer has done it full justice,
constructing on its strong lines a work that approaches the dimensions
and character of an oratorio. The initial fugal chorus (‘Below the
highest sphere four regents sit’), foretelling the birth of the child
Buddha who ‘shall deliver men from ignorance,’ establishes at once the
broad massive outlines of the work. After the King has conferred with
his ministers as to a remedy for the seriousness of Prince Siddârtha
and, on their advice, has summoned a court of pleasure at which the
most beautiful maidens are to teach him love, there follows a lovely
duet describing the meeting and recognition of the Prince and the fair
Yasôdhara, and the part closes with a jubilant wedding chorus, ‘Enter,
thrice happy!’ The second part--‘The Renunciation’--describes the
sensuous life of the Orient, the awakening of Siddârtha from this life
of love and joy to his mission, his six long years of wandering, his
victorious struggles with the varied temptations of ‘the fiends who
war with Wisdom and the Light.’ The third part--‘The Return’--relates
the sorrows of the lonely Yasôdhara and the return of the wandering
Siddârtha as a Buddha, dressed in the yellow garb of a hermit, begging
alms, yet greeted by his people with glad acclaim. The epilogue and
final chorus (‘Before beginning and without an end’) is the choral
climax of the whole work, constructed with fine musicianship and
majestic in its effect. Important solo duties are assigned to the
Prince, his wife Yasôdhara and his father, the King.

Dr. Leopold Damrosch (1832-1885), who occupied a position of great
influence in the musical life of New York City, wrote two important
choral works that were published in this country--‘Ruth and Naomi’
(1870), a Scriptural idyl, and ‘Sulamith’ (The Song of Songs), which
was performed for the first time by the Oratorio Society, New York,
in April, 1882. Other short choral works written by Americans in
the period now under consideration were ‘Prayer and Praise,’ the
Forty-sixth Psalm (Cincinnati Festival prize, 1882), and ‘The Rose,’
by William Wallace Gilchrist (born 1846); ‘The Culprit Fay’ (1879) and
‘Praise of Harmony’ (1886) by Frederick Grant Gleason (1848-1903);
‘Phœbus Arise’ (1882), ‘The Nativity’ (1883) and ‘The Realm of Fancy’
(1884) by John Knowles Paine (1839-1906); ‘The Tale of the Viking’
(1879) and ‘Henry of Navarre’ (1885) by George Elbridge Whiting (born
1842).

The choral works from the pen of Arthur Foote (b. 1853) are not
numerous, but they are fine in musical quality and workmanship.
There are only three of them and all are settings of poems by
Longfellow--‘The Farewell of Hiawatha’ (1879), a ballad for baritone
solo, male chorus and orchestra, ‘The Wreck of the Hesperus’ for mixed
voices and ‘The Skeleton in Armor.’

George Whitfield Chadwick (b. 1854) has written more voluminously in
the smaller choral forms, all of his writing being distinguished by
a keen feeling for vocal values and a rich harmonic sense. His chief
works in cantata form are ‘The Viking’s Last Voyage’ for baritone
solo, male chorus and orchestra, 1880 (Boston Apollo Club, 1881);
‘Lovely Rosabelle’ for solos, mixed chorus and orchestra, 1889
(Boston Orchestral Club, 1890); _Phœnix Expirans_, 1891 (Springfield
Festival, 1892); ‘Columbian Ode,’ 1892, written for the dedication
of the buildings of the World’s Fair, Chicago, May, 1893; ‘The Lily
Nymph,’ 1895 (Springfield Festival, 1896); and _Ecce jam noctis_, 1897,
written for the commencement exercises of Yale University, 1897, on the
occasion of his receiving from Yale the honorary degree of Master of
Arts.

Horatio William Parker (b. 1863) has been a prolific writer of choral
works, both before 1900 and since that date, and, through his skilful
handling of vocal masses and a superb contrapuntal technique, has won
for himself a foremost place among living masters of choral writing.
While a student under Rheinberger at Munich, two of his choral works,
‘The Ballad of a Knight and his Daughter’ (1884) and ‘King Trojan’
(1885), were given public performance there and were later published.
‘The Ballad of the Normans’ (_Normannenzug_) for male chorus and
orchestra appeared in 1889; ‘The Kobolds’ (poem by Arlo Bates) for
chorus and orchestra was performed at the Springfield (Mass.) Festival
in May, 1891; ‘Harold Harfagar’ for chorus and orchestra was performed
in 1891 in New York; ‘The Dream-King and his Love’ (poem by Geibel)
for tenor solo, chorus and orchestra won a prize in 1893 offered by
the National Conservatory of Music in New York City, of which Dvořák
was then director and in which the composer was a teacher; ‘The Holy
Child,’ a Christmas cantata, was published in 1893; and ‘A Wanderer’s
Psalm’ was written for and performed at the Hereford Festival, England,
in 1900. A composition which finely illustrates his great ability in
handling problems of vocal counterpoint is his motet for double chorus
_a cappella_, _Adstant angelorum chori_ (poem by Thomas à Kempis),
which won the prize given by the Musical Art Society of New York City
in 1898.

Mrs. H. H. A. Beach (b. 1867) has written several small choral works
that have found well-merited favor, among them ‘The Minstrel and the
King’ for tenor and baritone solos, male chorus and orchestra, ‘The
Rose of Avontown,’ a ballad for soprano solo and female chorus, ‘The
Chambered Nautilus’ for female chorus, and ‘Sylvania’ for mixed chorus.

Among other small choral works of serious content and fine workmanship
belonging to this period must be mentioned a fine motet by Arthur
Whiting (b. 1861) for double chorus _a cappella_, ‘O God, my heart is
ready’ (words selected from the Psalms).


                              FOOTNOTES:

[71] Born 1857.




                               CHAPTER VII

                     EARLY AND CLASSICAL ORATORIOS

     Origin of oratorio in the sacred drama of Italy--Cavalieri:
     ‘The Representation of Soul and Body’--Carissimi:
     ‘Jephthah’--Scarlatti; Stradella; other early oratorio
     writers--Development of oratorio in Germany; Passion-music
     and its development; Schütz: ‘The Seven Last Words of
     Christ’; ‘The Passion Oratorio’; ‘The Resurrection’--J.
     S. Bach: ‘Christmas Oratorio’; ‘Passion according
     to St. Matthew’; Graun: ‘The Death of Jesus’; other
     writers of Passion-music--Handel and the oratorio; ‘The
     Messiah’--‘Israel in Egypt’; ‘Judas Maccabæus’; ‘Samson,’
     etc.--Haydn: ‘The Creation’; ‘The Seasons.’


The early oratorio had many of the essential characteristics
possessed by its modern derivative. It always dealt with sacred
subjects (the modern oratorio, however, frequently concerns itself
with secular themes), it was almost always dramatic and its musical
apparatus consisted of the usual four solo voices and the chorus with
instrumental accompaniment.

In the liturgic drama of the Roman Church must be sought the origin
of the oratorio, which, in a musically coherent form, appeared at
about the same time with the opera, as the spiritual counterpart of
its secular companion, making a devotional and intellectual appeal in
place of the sensual. In the mediæval church two forms of the mass were
in use side by side: the Roman office, which was mainly celebrated by
the priest, and the Gallican Mass, a freer form, in which the people
largely participated. Quite naturally the divergence between the two
became marked and during the twelfth century the Gallican Mass was
reformed with regard to lay participation. In order, however, that the
people, who were attached to a form in which they took so direct a
part, might be compensated for this exclusion, dramatic representations
were devised, based on the Scriptures, all with reference to the great
church festivals, especially that of Holy Week. In these the germ of
the idea of the oratorio is to be found. These dramatic representations
took the form of mysteries and miracle plays--dramatic versions of
Scriptural episodes, with music, both sacred and secular, introduced
to heighten their effect--as well as moralities, in which Christian
virtues and mental qualities were treated allegorically. They included
processionals of the type of the ancient _Festum Asinorum_ (‘The Ass’s
Festival’), commemorating the flight of the Holy Family into Egypt,
which was annually celebrated at Beauvais and Sens as early as the
twelfth century, and in which the celebrated carol, _Prose de l’Ane_
(‘Hymn of the Ass’), still preserved, was the central feature.

With the monodic revolution which was inaugurated at the close of the
sixteenth century and which marked the beginning of opera, the history
of oratorio as a distinctly musical rather than a liturgic art-form may
be said to begin. The sacred musical drama was generally staged in the
vestry or vestibule of church or convent--its ‘oratory’--and in course
of time the term oratorio was applied to this music. In the oratory
of St. Filippo Neri’s church in Rome (_S. Girolamo della Charità_)
Animuccia’s settings of _laudi spirituali_ (sacred songs of praise) had
already been sung in the sixteenth century; and the fact that these
hymns were often used in connection with Biblical recitations is not
without direct influence on the development of the form.


                                   I

Yet it was not until the performance of Emilio del Cavalieri’s
_Rappresentazione di anima e di corpo_ (Rome, in February, 1600), in
which Time, Life, The World, Pleasure, Intellect, The Soul and The Body
appeared, that the first actual oratorio was heard in germinal shape,
during the same year that witnessed the world _première_ of all opera
with Peri’s _Euridice_, which took place in Florence in December.

There was practically no difference in form between the first operas
and the earliest oratorios, a statement borne out by the fact that
Domenico Mazzocchi’s _Querimonia di S. Maria Maddelena_ rivalled
Monteverdi’s _Lamento d’Arianna_ in popularity. Both opera and
oratorio were constructed, musically, in the self-same way. Both were
made up of recitative and arias, of choral and instrumental numbers,
and both began with an overture. The angelic choruses of the first
oratorios were musically synonymous with the bacchic choruses of the
early operas. The difference between them lay only in the choice of
subject-matter. And throughout the seventeenth century this continued
to be the case, speaking generally, despite a certain divergence
of viewpoint which had already made itself felt. How ‘operatic’ in
character Cavalieri’s sacred score was, is proven by its composer’s
employment of children as _dramatis personæ_, by the division of his
work into acts, and by the use of worldly intermezzos, pantomimes
and ballets. Interesting is the composer’s anticipation of Wagner at
Bayreuth in his stage directions relegating his orchestra to a place
‘behind the scenes’ and out of sight. This orchestra, primitive in
character, consisted of a double lyre, a harpsichord, a large guitar
and two flutes. The use of the violin was recommended, though it was
not insisted upon.

Cavalieri’s stage directions for the performance of his sacred drama
are so interesting and throw so much light on the dramatic character of
the early oratorio that they are quoted here, nearly in full, from Dr.
Burney’s ‘History of Music’:

(1) ‘The words should be printed, with verses correctly arranged, the
scenes numbered, and the characters of interlocutors specified.

(2) ‘Instead of the Overture or Symphony to modern musical drama, a
madrigal is recommended, as a full piece, with all the parts doubled,
and a greater number of instruments.

(3) ‘When the curtain rises, two youths, who recite the Prologue,
appear on the stage; and when they have done, Time, one of the
Characters in the Morality, comes on, and has the note with which he is
to begin given him by the instrumental performers behind the scenes.

(4) ‘The Chorus are to have a place allotted to them on the stage, part
sitting and part standing, in sight of the principal characters; and,
when they sing, they are to rise and be in motion, with proper gestures.

(5) ‘Pleasure, another imaginary character, and two companions, are to
have instruments in their hands, on which they are to play while they
sing and perform ritornelles.

(6) ‘_Il Corpo_, the Body, when these words are uttered, _Si che hormia
alma mia_, etc., may throw away some of his ornaments, as his gold
collar, feather from his hat, etc.

(7) ‘The World and Human Life in particular, are to be gaily and richly
dressed; and when they are divested of their trappings, to appear very
poor and wretched, and at length dead carcasses.

(8) ‘The Symphonies and Ritornelles may be played by a great number of
instruments; and, if a violin should play the principal part, it would
have a good effect.

(9) ‘The performance may be finished with or without a dance. If
without, the last chorus is to be doubled in all its parts, vocal and
instrumental; but, if a dance is preferred, a verse beginning thus:
_Chiostri altissimi e stellati_, is to be sung, accompanied sedately
and reverently by the dance. These shall succeed other grave steps and
figures of the solemn kind. During the ritornelles, the four principal
dancers are to form a ballet, _saltato con capriole_, enlivened with
capers or _entrechats_, without singing, and thus, after each stanza,
always varying the steps of the dance; and the four principal dancers
may sometimes use the _galiard_, sometimes the _canary_, and sometimes
the _courant_ step, which will do very well in the ritornelles.

(10) ‘The stanzas of the ballet are to be sung and played by all
performers within and without.’

As a matter of fact Cavalieri’s work was in reality a sacred opera,
not an oratorio. Contemporaries of Cavalieri, Agostino Manni
(_Rappresentazione del Figliuol Prodigo_), Anerio (_Teatro armonico
spirituale_), Pietro della Valle (_Esther_, _La Purificazione_) and,
somewhat later, Domenico Mazzocchi, Luigi Rossi, Ludovico Bellanda,
Vittorio Loreto (_La Pellegrina Constante_, _Sacre d’Abramo_),
Francesco Balducci (_La Fede_) and others, represent tentative gropings
toward a more artistically satisfying formal and musical development of
the oratorio.


                                   II

The slow revival of choral art quite naturally found in sacred
subjects the material best suited to treatment, not alone because of
earlier sixteenth century associations, but also because such subjects
did not over-encourage dramatic realism. Yet even Carissimi (1604-1674)
had but little success in his efforts to establish a loftier spiritual
standard in oratorio. He did much to perfect the recitative, and
to add charm and variety to the instrumental accompaniment; he set
aside the theatrical presentation, often gave dramatic details to a
‘narrator’ and laid more weight on the choral element. His music has
real quality and beauty; yet the secular idea persists in his works and
defeats his attempts to turn Scriptural dramatic representations into
genuine church-music. Despite this, his work is valuable as a stepping
stone--he was the first to write music which held out hopes of a future
for the oratorio as a distinct art-form.

Giacomo Carissimi, from 1628 to the time of his death choir-master of
the _Appolinare_ Church in Rome, was already renowned as a teacher and
composer in 1650. It was in this year that Athanasius Kirchner, in
his celebrated _Musurgia universalis_, a quaint mixture of scientific
knowledge and childish hearsay, introduced Carissimi, with an analysis
of his _Jephta_, to a wider circle as the perfect oratorio-composer.
Nor is it without reason that Carissimi has been termed the Handel
of the seventeenth century. His oratorios _Jonas_, _Jephta_, _Job_,
_Diluvium universalis_, etc., he called _historie_, and the Biblical
text on which they were founded was liberally interspersed with poetic
supplementary matter to allow for the introduction of little arias and
martial, elegiac or popular incidental choruses. The text was still
Latin, though after Carissimi’s time the _oratorio volgare_, so called
because it was sung in Italian and was thus distinguished from the
Latin oratorio, supplanted the latter in popular favor.

_Jephta_ is, perhaps, Carissimi’s most characteristic work. It employs
a Biblical subject, like all his other works of the kind, for Carissimi
adhered strictly to this conception of oratorio, though many of his
contemporaries shaped their cantatas and oratorios around the life
of some saint. In _Jephta_, too, as in all the composer’s oratorios,
the musical stress is laid on the choruses. These are not written in
the style of the polyphonic madrigal, but in a simple chordal setting
whose rhythm is conditioned by the word-accents. The fugue is absent,
imitation and canon are suggested only in the duets. In nearly all
cases the chorus serves to develop the dramatic idea. In the oratorio
of the time, chorus is, in general, opposed to chorus, with the
occasional relief of solo voices. Yet Carissimi secures considerable
movement and variety by dividing more extended portions of his text
into short sections, first sung by one or more solo voices and then
taken up by the choruses _en masse_. Excellent examples of this
procedure are to be found in his _Diluvium universalis_ and _Dives
malus_.

Naturally, the harmonic structure of _Jephta_ and the companion
oratorios of Carissimi seems almost pathetically simple to the
modern ear, accustomed to the richness of chromatic harmonization.
His modulations, save in a few instances, such as the chorus _Abit
in montes_ of _Jephta_, are restricted to the keys of the upper and
lower dominant. This lack, however, was not perceptible to listeners
of the composer’s own generation. They enjoyed the rhythmic vitality
and dramatic truth of his works, the vivid descriptive quality of
the shipwreck music in _Jonas_, the idyllic charm of the two-voice
movements to which the playmates of Jephthah’s daughter dance their
rounds. And in _Jephta_ the composer often gained a depth of pathos
worthy of a really great singer’s rendering. Such a number is the
_Plorate colles_, a model of expressive writing. It was from this
_Plorate_ that Handel borrowed twelve measures to use in ‘Hear, Jacob’s
God,’ in his ‘Samson.’

All in all, Carissimi may be held to have laid down the lines along
which the Handelian oratorio was later to develop. As a contrapuntal
writer his great merit lay in the adaptation of the polyphonic idea
to the new conceptions of tonality. He stands for the introduction of
a more serious musicianship in oratorio work, and his influence was
noticeably great and made itself felt in the works of his successors
up to Handel’s time. Among these men who carried on his work (though
often they were mainly active in the operatic or instrumental fields),
two in particular stand forth, Alessandro Stradella (d. 1681) and
Alessandro Scarlatti (d. 1725). These two men, in a manner, sum up
the activity of many others, of Provencale, Vitali, Colonna, Leonardo
Leo, G. B. Bononcini, Bassani, Ristocchi and Polaroli in Italy; of the
Italian musicians in Vienna--Bertali, Draghi, Ariosto, Badia and M. A.
Bononcini; and in Munich, Pietro Tosi. All of these composers wrote
oratorios between the years 1650 and 1750 and developed in them the
principles of Carissimi with more or less originality and success.


                                   III

Alessandro Scarlatti, born in 1659 in Trapani, Sicily, the greatest
representative of the Neapolitan school, was, it is asserted, a pupil
of Carissimi. He wrote operas, cantatas, vocal and instrumental pieces
by the hundred, and his oratorios alone number fourteen. Their titles
show that he departed from his master’s strict adherence to Biblical
subjects for his textual material. We have a _Maddalena penitente_,
a _Sacrificio d’Abramo_, _Agar et Ismaele esiliati_, it is true,
but also a _San Casimiro, rè di Polonia_, and a _S. Filippo Neri_.
Like Carissimi he subordinated strict thematic counterpoint to the
exigencies of a free and unconstrained leading of the voices, and with
an added richness and elaboration of effect. He gave the aria a more
definite structure, and made large use of rhythmic melody, in the
manner of Gluck, to bring out the dramatic value of highly impassioned
scenes, which in spoken drama would have appeared as monologue. Where
lesser depths of feeling were to be plumbed, he used accompanied
recitative and the _recitativo secco_ mainly for the development of the
narrative itself. This general scheme of arrangement has been followed
by later composers down to our own day.

Perhaps his oratorio _Il trionfo della grazia_, composed in 1685, which
was a favorite as late as the early years of the eighteenth century,
gives us as good a general idea of his sacred music as any other. It
was also known under the title of _La Conversione di Maddalena_, as in
it the Magdalen makes her appearance as a species of apple of discord
between ‘Youth’ and ‘Penitence.’ In clever contrast such opposites
as Gravity and Heedlessness, The World’s Curse and The Joy of Life,
are used to enhance the moral and musical effect of the work. The
second section of the oratorio takes up the conversion of the penitent
sinner, and the music which the Magdalen now sings, full of pathos and
gravity, offers a piquant contrast to the jolly melodies, embroidered
with coloratura and shakes, which were her part before. Particularly
beautiful is an instrumental symphony (in the older sense of the word)
which, after the heroine has said the words, ‘A penitent and faithful
heart shall see the heavens open,’ is wonderfully suggestive of the
kneeling of the penitent woman. Schering calls it a musical pendant to
Ribera’s celebrated picture of St. Agnes, in the Dresden galleries.

In another of Scarlatti’s oratorios, _Sedecia, rè di Gerusalemme_[72]
(1706), we meet with a splendidly effective use of orchestral
means--always remembering that the orchestra of that day was not our
present one. The introductory _sinffonie_ is here nothing more or less
than a violin concerto[73] in disguise, and the orchestra--consisting
of obbligato and second violins, trumpets, tympani (especially
prominent in the military music in Part I of the work) and oboes--takes
an important part in the musical development from beginning to end.
Among the vocal numbers might be instanced a particularly expressive
duo between Anna and her son Ishmael (accompanied by an obbligato
oboe); an aria of Ishmael’s, accompanied by two solo violins, and
Sedecia’s two arias in Part II.

In this oratorio in particular, Scarlatti speaks with the accents of
a master who is consciously striving toward the realization of a new
ideal. It offers striking proof of the fact of how great Scarlatti
might have become as a composer of oratorio had not opera so largely
preëmpted his best efforts. The closing movement of _Sedecia_, a
five-part chorus on broad lines, with incidental solo-quartet sections,
recalls in its style the magnificent triumphal choruses of Handel’s
oratorios. _S. Casimiro, rè di Polonia_ (1713) also contains arias of
great beauty; and written during the master’s last period of creative
activity, _La Vergine addolorata_ (1717) must be considered one of
his finest works. A ‘Lament of Mary’ printed by Raf. Carreras in his
_El Oratorio Musical_ (1906), p. 188, approaches Bach in power and
expressiveness.

The austere and serious power which Scarlatti infused into his sacred
music was not attained by his immediate successors and contemporaries.
But the master’s predilection for brilliancy and effect, when we
compare his music with that of Purcell, though its greater dramatic
interest and movement is incontestable, brought about, perhaps, a
less degree of emotional expression and a less intimate touch in the
portrayal of mood pictures.

Alessandro Stradella, born in Naples about 1645, was not as prolific a
writer as Scarlatti, yet he left over 150 works (among them ten operas
and eight oratorios) at the time of his early death--he is supposed
to have been murdered in Genoa in 1681. He has much in common with
Scarlatti. In Stradella’s works we find the same recurring suggestion
of Handelian breadth and strength, and in general that freedom and
grandeur of conceptive outlook which stamps the great composer.

Stradella’s best known oratorio is his _S. Giovanni Battista_ (about
1676). Its great artistic merit lies in its plastic musical portrayals
of the characters of Herod and his daughter, and in the happy use
of fiery, dramatic melody to limn them in tone; for as a musical
character-painter Stradella may be said to have been Scarlatti’s
superior, although his influence on the development of the form was
not so great as was that of his contemporary. The romantic details
regarding his personal life, many of them undoubtedly apocryphal, which
recur in every biography, do not seem to call for consideration here.
It is his contribution to the music of the oratorio only with which we
are concerned, and in this respect he deserves a place beside Scarlatti.

The numerous composers of oratorio who lead from Carissimi, through
Scarlatti and Stradella, to Handel and his more immediate German
predecessors, have nothing especially new to offer. Scarlatti and
Stradella accomplished much in the direction of both musical and purely
formal development, but they were unable to establish a distinct
line of demarcation between oratorio and opera. Italian oratorio was
practically not distinguishable from the Italian _opera seria_ until as
late as Mozart’s boyhood.


                                   IV

Italian oratorio, by reason of its descent from the sacred church
dramas and its close association with opera, has never been wholly able
to break away from the element of recreation that was so conspicuous
in its early use as a means of attracting people to attend church. And
the complete separation between the recreational and religious elements
did not take place until the oratorio passed out of the land of its
birth into Germany, when it fused with the spirit of Passion-music and
emerged a distinctly religious art-form. The connecting link between
Italian oratorio and Germany was Giovanni Gabrieli, who, as the teacher
of Heinrich Schütz, the greatest German musician of the seventeenth
century, transmitted to his great pupil not only his technical mastery
of the best of Netherland and Italian art-methods, but his own
remarkable artistic sincerity and religious earnestness. It was Schütz
who, from the different standpoint of Protestant faith as nurtured by
the Lutheran Reformation, laid the foundations of modern oratorio.

Before tracing the influence of Schütz in shaping the future course
of oratorio, it will be in place to sketch the origin and development
of the Passion-music. The quasi-dramatic musical presentation of the
Passion[74] is even more deeply rooted in the liturgy of the Roman
Church than is the oratorio. It represents the artistic amplification
of the reading of the Passion of our Lord, according to the evangels
as prescribed by the church during Holy Week: on Palm Sunday the
Passion according to St. Matthew, on Tuesday, St. Mark, on Wednesday,
St. Luke, and on Good Friday, St. John. At an early period it had
become customary to assign the narrative text and the words of Christ,
of the Apostles, the High Priest and other individual characters to
various singers, instead of having them read. During the period of the
supremacy of Gregorian plain-song this mode of rendering this part of
the liturgy resulted in the Passion chant (_cantus passionis_). This
continued to be the only form used until the principles of polyphony
were sufficiently developed to substitute a more elaborate form.
Since the year 1200 and probably much earlier, the texts to be sung
were divided among three priests, called ‘Deacons of the Passion,’ as
follows: one chanted the words of Christ, another the narration of
the Evangelist and a third the words of the apostles, the crowd, or
others whose words are recorded. Passion-music, it will be observed, is
much older than the oratorio and at the time that the latter began to
assume shape and coherence, it already could boast of a considerable
literature. When the monodic revolution brought about the development
of the oratorio along lines similar to those of opera and encouraged
the use of legends of the saints and Christian allegory as text matter,
the Passion remained strictly bound to its original Biblical text,
although the musical treatment of certain text portions in motet form
(Passion Motets) was permitted. Not until the second half of the
seventeenth century did Passion and oratorio in Italy draw near to each
other, and only in the last quarter of the century was the story of
the Passion utilized for the first time as subject-matter for a great
oratorio.

Attilio Ariosti’s _Passione_ (1693) is probably the first work of
its kind in Italy to present this subject with due dramatic emphasis
and the use of musically adequate popular choruses. G. A. Perti’s
_Passione_ (1685), on the other hand, is one of the type known
as _sepolcros_, intended for devotional performance at a richly
decorated Holy Sepulchre and serving principally as an excuse for
tearfully exaggerated scenes of sorrow between Mary Magdalene and the
disciples. After Ariosti’s _Passione_ Italian Passion music in its best
manifestations may be said to have been taken over into the oratorio
proper, with little but its text to distinguish it from the latter.

When Luther constructed the liturgy of the Church which followed his
religious leadership, he borrowed from the Roman ritual, among other
things, the custom of singing to musical accompaniment the story of the
trial and death of the Saviour. About the middle of the seventeenth
century German composers[75] injected into the existing Italian form
a new spiritual and musical fervor, and an emotional expressiveness
which was eventually to culminate in the great Passions of Johann
Sebastian Bach. By the end of the seventeenth century the Passion
existed in three distinct forms--the chant, the motet and the oratorio.
Schütz cultivated particularly the last two forms with wonderful
results considering the musical vocabulary of his period, but the
Passion-oratorio, with its greater musical and dramatic possibilities,
was best adapted to serve the deep religious fervor of Bach’s
inspiration and to attain its final development at his hands.

Heinrich Schütz (1585-1672), of Dresden, was the greatest of Bach’s
predecessors as a composer of church-music. Familiar with the best
music of Italy and a master of religious writing, he laid the
foundation of the modern German oratorio. His ‘Resurrection,’ ‘Seven
Last Words,’ and four ‘Passions’ represent the culmination of the
form before Bach. Schütz, who has been called ‘the father of German
music,’ was one of the greatest Psalm-writers of all times, though
few of these compositions are so named but appear under such titles
as ‘spiritual concertos,’ ‘sacred symphonies,’ motets, and ‘sacred
choral music.’ Though his work was based on the Italian style, he was
greatly influenced by Scandellus, one of his predecessors in Dresden as
chapel-master of the Elector Johann Georg of Saxony. His finest choral
works are the six mentioned above, all of which come under the general
classification of oratorios. One of his greatest works, _Historia der
fröhlichen und siegreichen Auferstehung unseres einigen Erlösers und
Seligmachers Jesu Christi_, or ‘Resurrection,’ was written in 1623,
for Easter service, it being the custom then, as now, in some of the
important churches of Saxony, to sing the Resurrection on Easter day
before the sermon, just as the Passion was sung on Good Friday. The
vocal parts are accompanied by the organ and four _viole da gamba_, and
the chorus is frequently in six and eight parts. The works of Schütz
are characterized by simplicity of themes, which are always expressive
and full of color. At times he becomes dramatic, but he is always
devotional and reverential, and though he abandons the liturgical
forms of Scandellus, many of his themes, though original, are based
on liturgical melody or Gregorian chant. All trace of the Italian
recreational element disappears; there is no suggestion of the stage
or of ‘attractive’ effects and the only object before the composer’s
mind is evidently to faithfully portray in music the solemnity and
pious grandeur of the texts. This was the point of departure for German
Protestant oratorio.

Another important work of Schütz was his setting of the ‘Seven Words
of Jesus,’ written and performed in 1645. This departs even more from
the liturgical chant, and the part of the Evangelist, instead of being
chanted, is treated as a recitative, first for alto, then for tenor,
then for soprano and tenor accompanied by the other two voices, thus
bringing it into quartet form. The first and last choruses are in five
parts and each is called ‘Chorus of the Congregation.’ After the first
chorus and before the last (therefore separating the actual scenes from
the chorus of the people), an instrumental number called _symphonia_ is
inserted, thereby giving more dramatic force to the narration. These
two symphonias are in five parts and while the instruments are not
indicated, they were probably played by the strings. Parts of the work
are very touching and beautifully expressive. For some unknown reason
this work was not published until 1873 (228 years after its first
production), edited by Carl Riedel.

Possibly his greatest work is his setting of the four Passions entitled
_Historia des Leidens und Sterbens unseres Herrn und Heylandes Jesu
Christi_ and following the text of the four Evangelists. This was
written in 1665-66 but was not published during his lifetime and only
the ‘St. John Passion’ exists in manuscript, but a complete copy of
the four Passions was made by Grundig in 1690, comparatively soon
after the death of Schütz. These Passions are built up largely with
short choruses which, though conceived in deep devotion, are at times
very dramatic. The parts not given to the chorus are recitatives in
liturgical form, sometimes accompanied[76] and sometimes for the voice
alone. The texts of some of the choruses were taken from well-known
church hymns. The ‘St. Matthew Passion’ is the most fluent melodically.
These settings of the Passion comprised the composer’s last works and
in them lay the kernel of what was later perfected by Bach and Handel,
both of whom completed in their respective lines what Schütz had begun.
It has been regarded significant that the year of his birth was exactly
one hundred years before that of Bach and Handel.

Schütz was still much under the influence of the Gregorian modes
and did not attempt to break away from them in passages of simple
recitative, but he also employed for simple harmonized passages many
of the chorale melodies that were so popular all over Protestant
Germany. But after Schütz plain-song practically disappears from German
Passion and oratorio music and the influence of the chorale becomes
more distinct and insistent. During the seventeenth and eighteenth
centuries Passion music was extensively cultivated in Germany and
all her best composers gave it marked attention. Johann Sebastiani
in 1672 produced a Passion at Königsberg, in which the narration is
set entirely to original music and in which chorales, simply and
effectively harmonized, are given more prominence. Thenceforward German
church-music, freed from its allegiance to the old modal system, struck
out paths of its own, and rapid progress was made. In 1673 Theile’s
_Deutsche Passion_ was performed at Lübeck with extraordinary success
and Reinhard Keiser, the Hamburg opera-composer, created renewed
interest in this form by his setting of the Passion in 1704, which
contained an innovation followed by all subsequent German writers of
Passion-music. This consisted in what he called _soliloquia_, which
voiced devout reflections on the solemn events of the Gospel narrative.


                                   V

Bach’s extraordinary and single-hearted devotion to the cause of
church-music led him very naturally to the door of Passion-music and
oratorio, and he brought to the composition of these elaborate forms
an unequalled mastery over all the technical devices of contrapuntal
writing and a marvellous fertility of invention. A deeply religious
and devout nature enriched the natural nobility of his musical speech,
and scattered through the four oratorios from his pen that are
preserved to us are some of his sublimest thoughts. These four are a
Christmas-oratorio and three Passion-oratories--St. Matthew, St. John,
and St. Luke (now regarded as genuine, though for many years considered
spurious). Through the carelessness of his son Friedemann a St. Mark
Passion and probably still another have been lost, for he is known to
have written five Passions.

‘Christmas Oratorio.’--This work, written in 1723 and performed a
year later, consists of six parts (in reality six separate cantatas)
intended for the first, second and third days of the Christmas service,
for New Year’s Day, New Year’s Sunday and Epiphany. While these belong
together liturgically and are connected by chorales, there have been
very few single performances of the entire work because of its very
great length. The parts given most frequently are the first two, which
are the strongest. The text, the story of the Nativity, is taken from
Matthew and Luke, but is elaborated by passages taken from two of his
secular works. This was a common procedure in the eighteenth century
and as Bach had just written festival music for the birthday of the
Queen of Poland and for other court festivities, parts of these joyful
compositions easily adapted themselves to the joy of the Christmas
season.

The first part opens with a sort of fanfare of trumpets accompanied
by drums, which gives a distinct festival atmosphere as the people
assemble for the first service; it is followed at once by the chorus
_Jauchzet, frohlocket, auf, preisset die Tage_. The solo tenor narrates
the part of the Evangelist and brings the attention of the worshippers
to the joy of this specific festival. But Bach sees beyond the Nativity
and anticipates the sacrifice and suffering of the Saviour, therefore
the words of the Advent hymn, _Wie soll ich dich empfangen_, are set to
the Passion chorale, _O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden_. This first part
contains beautiful, simple melodies interspersed with chorales. An
atmosphere, almost of Advent sorrow, pervades the part as a whole and
is strongly contrasted with the second part which brings in the real,
generally-accepted Christmas atmosphere. The second part opens with the
well-known ‘Pastoral Symphony,’ so often played on orchestral programs
and so charmingly idyllic, simple and naïve. It is built on two themes,
one typical of the shepherds, the other of the angels. At the close
of this the Evangelist continues his narrative, which is frequently
interrupted by lyric passages and by chorales, such as _Brich an, du
schönes Morgenlicht_. The beautiful tenor solo, _Frohe Hirten eilt_,
following a bass recitative, is one of the most compelling numbers, but
probably the finest from both a vocal and an orchestral standpoint is
the lovely alto solo, _Schlafe, mein Liebster_. The part closes with
a massive chorus of praise to God in the highest, sung by the angels,
shepherds and the congregation.

As the other four parts are rarely performed, no detailed analysis is
given here; however, these parts have been given together and are about
as long as the combined first two parts. One of the most effective
choruses in the last four parts is one in the fifth, _Ehre sei dir Gott
gesungen_.

‘Passion According to St. Matthew.’--This stupendous work, now
universally considered the finest work of its kind, was written in 1729
and performed on April 15th of the same year at the afternoon service
of Good Friday in the St. Thomas Church, Leipzig, but was later altered
and extended so that it was not completed in its present form until
1740. While it was frequently performed in Leipzig until the end of
the eighteenth century, it was practically forgotten by the outside
world until 1829, just one hundred years after its first production,
when it was given on March 11th, in the _Singakademie_, Berlin, under
the direction of Mendelssohn. This generous artist is deserving of
the deepest gratitude for his untiring enthusiasm in compelling the
world to recognize the grandeur of this work and the greatness of
its half-forgotten creator. He was evidently deeply struck with the
strangeness of his own relation to the rescuing of the great work from
oblivion, for, in commenting on the performance, he made the following
reference to his own nationality--the only recorded instance of this
kind: ‘It was an actor[77] and a Jew who restored this great Christian
work to the people.’ It was not performed in London until April 6th,
1854. The first American performance was by the Handel and Haydn
Society in Boston in 1874.

The story of the ‘Passion according to St. Matthew’ was already
embodied in the service at Leipzig and it was sung on Palm Sunday each
year in choral form. The fact that the Passions were regularly given
at church services, added to his own interest in the subject itself,
probably inspired Bach to give artistic musical expression to the
different versions of the Gospel narratives. While Bach wrote five
Passions, four on the four Gospels and one by Picander, the greatest
and last was the ‘Matthew Passion.’ The ‘Passion according to St. Luke’
is by many authorities not attributed entirely to Bach, for even though
it were a youthful work, there are parts that cannot be reconciled with
his general style of that period, though others bear his unmistakable
stamp. Of the ‘Passion according to St. Mark’ only five lyric pieces
are preserved in the Funeral Ode on the death of Queen Christiane
Eberhardine. The Picander Passion is lost. The ‘Passion according
to St. John’ was first performed at St. Thomas’ Church on April
7th, 1724, and is musically not much inferior to the great ‘Matthew
Passion,’ but in the latter work Bach developed to a larger extent
the element characteristic of the oratorio and united more closely
the ecclesiastical and the folk-song quality. The fact that he was
accustomed to the simple choral setting probably prevented him from
giving anything like conscious dramatic effect, yet the complexity
of his natural musical expression often led him to a dramatic climax
of which he was not conscious, for his Passions were written for the
church service only. As Bach was above all a devout Lutheran, he
doubtless was imbued with the spirit of offsetting the grandeur of
the Roman Mass with the combination of simple and complex forms in
which the congregation could take part in the well-known chorales
interspersed so artistically. Arthur Mees[78] speaks of Bach’s Passions
as ‘the expression of the religious devotion of his own individual self
as representative of his fellow-believers. Even the dramatic portions
are not the utterances of actors in a drama, but those of the Christian
congregation which is carried away in its contemplation of the events
to the point of identifying itself with the actual participants in the
scene.’

Between the two parts of the Passion it was customary in Bach’s time
to have the sermon, as in the days of St. Philip Neri at Rome. As the
performance of the Passion consumed more than two hours and the sermon
lasted at least two hours, the Good Friday service was a most serious
and weighty church event.

The first part of the ‘Matthew Passion’ is divided into three
principal sections--Jesus with his disciples and the institution of
the Last Supper, Jesus at Gethsemane, and the seizure of Jesus. The
second part is divided into four sections--Jesus before the High
Priest, Jesus before Pilate, the Crucifixion, and the last, consisting
of madrigal-like elaborations of Bible texts. This part contains the
famous bass aria, _Am Abend als es kühle ward_, which with its refined
instrumentation is one of the most beautiful in the entire work, almost
romantic in atmosphere and remarkably lyric. Among the many notable
characteristics of this work is the accompanying of the words of Jesus
by the orchestra in place of the usual _continuo_. The Daughter of
Zion, whose words were given by other composers to a definite voice,
no longer appears as an individual, but her words are sung in turn by
alto, soprano, tenor and bass solos, in duets and in choral form.

While a large part of the text (from chapters XXVI and XXVII of
Matthew’s Gospel) was doubtless compiled by Bach himself, he had able
assistance from the poet Picander (whose real name was Friedrich
Henrici), who wrote many of the hymns and who has already been referred
to as the poet of the lost Passion, considered of little value because
of the inadequacy of the text.

With Bach’s ‘Matthew Passion’ the development of the Protestant Church
music in this form came to an abrupt close for the simple reason that
no one since Bach’s time has possessed the necessary technical and
musical equipment for further progress. In this glorious work, which
next to his own ‘B minor Mass’ is probably his most sublime utterance,
he seems to have completely grasped the touching pathos and the
poignant sorrow of the scenes unfolded in the Gospel narratives of the
Passion and, in interpreting them through the religious experience of a
devout believer, to have exhausted the vocabulary of music appropriate
to the liturgy of which this Scriptural narrative forms an impressive
part. However, other Passions were written after Bach’s settings were
made and the most famous of them is Graun’s _Der Tod Jesu_, which
is spoken of in some detail below. Handel made two settings of the
Passion, one of which (‘The Passion of Christ’ to a poem by B. H.
Brockes of Hamburg) is in existence. It was written probably about 1716
and the composer introduced no fewer than twenty of its numbers into
later works, some altered, some transferred bodily. Haydn’s Passion
(‘The Seven Words of Our Saviour’) has already been spoken of under
cantatas (Chapter IV). An interesting example of later Passion music
is Gounod’s unaccompanied Passion-motet, ‘The Seven Last Words of Our
Saviour’ (_Filiæ Jerusalem_), written from the standpoint of the Roman
Church service in the style of Palestrina.

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


                                   VI

The law of compensation has seldom operated so magnificently to the
advantage of a great artist defeated in a cherished life enterprise,
as in the case of Handel. Rejoicing in the reputation of being one of
the greatest opera composers of his time, he might easily have spent
the whole productive period of his life in winning the applause of the
pleasure-loving opera audiences who regarded the glitter and tinsel of
Italian opera as the _summum bonum_ of artistic expression. Fortunately
for Handel himself and for the art of music, he was compelled to
give up his career as an opera composer and manager because of the
jealousy of rivals, the cabals and intrigues of court-cliques and the
financial embarrassments brought about by combinations of unpleasant
circumstances. It was only after he was fifty years old that he
began to write the works that have immortalized him. Several of his
early oratorios--‘Esther’ (1718 and 1732), ‘Deborah’ (1733) and
‘Athaliah’ (1733)--had met with great success and popular approval,
part of which was no doubt attributable to the unbounded admiration
aroused by his performances on the organ between the parts of his
oratorios. Practically driven from the operatic stage by adverse
circumstances--and all of his operas are forgotten now--he eagerly
turned to the more appreciative English oratorio audiences. It was
this English love for the sacred drama that encouraged Handel to
abandon stage composition (1741) and to give full expression to the
deeper things of his rugged, independent, sincere nature through the
highest forms of religious music. The result was the production of the
stupendous series of oratorios on which his fame now almost wholly
rests. ‘Saul’ and ‘Israel in Egypt’ were both performed in 1739, and
in 1742 the immortal ‘Messiah’ was given to the world. The enthusiasm
with which this great work was received stimulated him to renewed
activity along the same line and after the ‘Messiah’ came ‘Samson’ and
the ‘Dettingen Te Deum,’ performed in 1743; ‘Semele’ and ‘Joseph,’
performed in 1744; ‘Belshazzar’ and ‘Heracles’ in 1745; the ‘Occasional
Oratorio’ and ‘Judas Maccabæus’ in 1747; ‘Joshua’ in 1748, ‘Solomon’
and ‘Susannah’ in 1749, ‘Theodora’ in 1750, ‘The Choice of Hercules’
in 1750, and ‘Jephthah,’ his last oratorio, in 1752. During the
composition of ‘Jephthah,’ his failing eyesight became so troublesome
that he submitted to several operations for cataract, which, however,
were unsuccessful and total blindness ensued.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


                                   VII

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


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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


                                   VIII

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


                              FOOTNOTES:

[72] Score in the Royal Library, Dresden.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




                               CHAPTER VIII

                 THE ORATORIO FROM BEETHOVEN TO BRAHMS

     Beethoven: ‘The Mount of Olives’; Spohr: ‘The Last Judgment’
     and ‘Calvary’--Mendelssohn: ‘St. Paul’--‘Elijah’ and ‘Hymn of
     Praise’--Liszt: ‘St. Elizabeth’ and ‘Christus’--Oratorio in
     England; Sterndale Bennett: ‘The Woman of Samaria’; Costa’s
     ‘Eli’--Oratorio in France; Lesueur; Berlioz’s _L’enfance du
     Christ_--Gounod: ‘The Redemption’; _Mors et Vita_.


                                   I

With the early years of the nineteenth century came many forces which
fed the awakening desire for choral song. The dawning consciousness of
national life in the Teutonic nations and the grateful sense of relief
from Napoleonic oppression, with the accompanying train of intellectual
activities which the new sense of freedom let loose--all contributed
to develop, in Germany particularly, a new attitude toward choral song
as an outlet for the expression of the newly-awakened sense of new
relationships. Hence in Germany we will find the most important centre
of choral activities in the first half of this century. Here many
of that remarkable group of German composers who assumed undisputed
leadership of the musical world during this period, gave to the
oratorio their richest thoughts and maturest attention--among them
Beethoven, Spohr, Mendelssohn and Liszt.

‘Christ on the Mount of Olives’ (_Christus am Oelberge_) was
Beethoven’s only oratorio. It was begun in 1800 at a period when he was
still under the influence of Haydn and Mozart. It was finished in 1801
and first performed at Vienna, April 5th, 1803. Its first production in
England was in 1814 under Sir George Smart during the Lenten oratorios
at Drury Lane. Huber’s text, which was written in fourteen days,
has been universally condemned as lacking in solemnity and failing
in the essential dramatic requirements. Several attempts have been
made to substitute texts for the original one that would remove its
incongruities, but without satisfactory results.

The work calls for three solo voices, Jesus, Peter, and the Seraph.
The introduction is an orchestral _adagio_ movement, very dramatic
in character, depicting the agony in the Garden. This is followed
by a recitative and aria for Jesus (tenor), ‘All my soul within me
shudders,’ a sweet, pathetic number, in spite of its incongruity.
There ensues a scene and aria by the Seraph, ‘Praise the Redeemer’s
goodness,’ and joined to it a buoyant, joyous _obbligato_ with chorus,
‘O triumph, all ye ransomed!’ This is followed by a duet between Jesus
and the Seraph, ‘On Me then fall thy heavy judgment,’ which, like
Jesus’ first aria, offends through verging on the dramatic. After a
short recitative in which Jesus welcomes death, there follows a strong
and properly dramatic number, a chorus of soldiers in march-time, ‘We
surely here shall find Him,’ in which are heard the shouts of the
rabble and the grief of the apostles. Next comes a dialogue between
Jesus and Peter, ‘Not unchastised shall this audacious band,’ and
following this, a passage which again strains one’s sense of propriety,
comes a trio between Jesus, Peter and the Seraph, with chorus, ‘O
sons of men, with gladness.’ The last number, a chorus of angels,
‘Hallelujah, God’s Almighty Son,’ begins with a short but powerful
orchestral introduction which is followed by a joyous outburst; and
this in turn merges into a massive fugue, enriched and strengthened
by a splendid orchestral accompaniment such as only Beethoven could
conceive.

Had Beethoven written another oratorio, as he evidently contemplated,
he doubtless would have enriched this form out of the tragic
experiences of his later life, as he so bountifully did the more
congenial forms of instrumental speech.

Spohr (1784-1859) was a prolific composer in instrumental and vocal
forms. His ‘Jessonda’ was regarded as one of the strongest early
romantic operas and two of his three oratorios enjoyed a large measure
of popularity during his lifetime and in subsequent years, particularly
in England. His style was melodious, exceedingly chromatic and
modulatory, but his musical powers lacked the ability for sustained
flights. While his musicianship charms, one feels a certain discrepancy
between the grandeur of some of his oratorio themes and his musical
mode of handling them. The Handelian breadth and massiveness is absent.
His three oratorios are ‘The Last Judgment,’ ‘Calvary’ and ‘The Fall of
Babylon,’ the last named written for the Norwich (England) Festival of
1842.

‘The Last Judgment’ (_Die letzten Dinge_)--not to be confounded
with an earlier, crude oratorio, _Das jüngste Gericht_, written in
1812--was composed in 1825 and first performed on Good Friday, 1826,
at the Lutheran Church at Cassel. The first large performance was
at the Rhenish Festival at Düsseldorf of the same year. Its first
hearing in England was at the Norwich Festival, September 30th, 1830,
and in America, at Boston, March 20th, 1843, when it was presented by
the Handel and Haydn Society. The English title of the oratorio is
misleading and was a mistranslation, confused with Spohr’s earlier
work, of similar name but different meaning. There is no suggestion
of the terrors of the last judgment in this oratorio. The text of the
first part is given over wholly to the general thought of praise ‘unto
Him that sitteth upon the throne and unto the Lamb forever.’ The second
part is concerned with those portions of Revelation that describe the
signs of the last day, closing with St. John’s vision of a new heaven
and a new earth.

The first part contains among other numbers the well-known chorus, ‘All
glory to the Lamb that died’; the admirable tenor solo and chorus,
‘Blessing, honor, glory and power,’ with a tranquil beginning and
ending, but expanding into a well-written fugue in the middle; and the
closing number, a beautiful quartet and chorus, ‘Lord God of Heaven
and Earth.’ The second part begins with an orchestral introduction
which graphically portends the signs and wonders of the last day. These
are dramatically related in the following long bass recitative with
vigorous, agitated accompaniment. After the powerful chorus, ‘Destroyed
is Babylon,’ the vision of a new heaven and earth is proclaimed by the
soprano, and three transitional numbers lead to the last movement,
a majestic chorus, ‘Great and wonderful are all Thy works,’ which
consists of a smooth introduction, a lively fugue, still another fugue
(‘Thine is the kingdom’), followed by an exultant outburst of praise
and the final Amen.

‘Calvary’ was first performed at Cassel on Good Friday, 1835. Four
years later it was given in England at the Norwich Festival, the
composer himself conducting. While it met with considerable criticism
because of ecclesiastical prejudice against the introduction of the
personality of Jesus among the singing characters (Beethoven’s ‘Mount
of Olives’ occasioned the same offense), the work was a signal success.
The text was by Rochlitz.

The work deals with scenes connected with the crucifixion and abounds
in beautiful, expressive melody, both in the choruses (sung by the
friends of Jesus) and in the ariosos of Mary and the recitatives of
John. The beautiful chorus, ‘Gentle night, O descend,’ following a
very grave and somewhat protracted overture, is an example of this
expressive melody. The work becomes more impressive toward the close;
especially so is the cry of Jesus, ‘My God, my God, O why hast Thou
forsaken me?’ followed by the fervent prayer of the disciples, ‘In
this dread hour of death,’ and another beautiful number sung by the
disciples, ‘His earthly race is run,’ set for a quartet of solo voices
accompanied by the chorus. A highly dramatic number is the chorus of
priests and people, as they express their consuming fear aroused by the
convulsions of nature attendant upon the crucifixion. The final number
is a beautiful, sustained chorus of the disciples, ‘Beloved Lord, Thine
eyes we close.’


                                   II

The world waited fifty-six years after the first performance of
Handel’s ‘Messiah’ (1742) before Haydn presented his ‘Creation,’ the
first oratorio after Handel’s death that is comparable with his great
masterpiece. After a lapse of thirty-eight years another oratorio
appeared--Mendelssohn’s ‘St. Paul’--which rose above the ‘Creation’
and revealed its composer as one on whose shoulders the mantle of both
Handel and Bach had descended with power. Versatile as Mendelssohn
was in many forms, vocal polyphony seemed most congenial of all, and
he will undoubtedly live longest in his great choral masterpieces,
‘St. Paul’ and ‘Elijah,’ the latter of which reaches a point of
grandeur of conception and effective dramatic expression that remains
as yet unsurpassed by any subsequent choral work. One of the most
skillful contrapuntists since Bach, a perfect master of orchestration
and possessed of exquisite sense of formal values, Mendelssohn was
splendidly equipped to take advantage of the tremendous strides that
had been made in the musical means of expression since the time of
Handel and Haydn. He absorbed the devotional intensity of Bach’s choral
music and reinstated the chorale as an integral element of German
oratorio; from Handel he borrowed massiveness of choral structure and
brilliance of vocal writing. Like Handel, his mode of musical speech
was direct and intimate and its appeal was couched in terms of even
more suave beauty. The immediate success of Mendelssohn’s oratorios was
without doubt greatly aided by the favorable condition of the popular
religious thought, as well as by the great acceleration in the interest
in choral singing that had resulted from the immense popularity of
Haydn’s ‘Creation’ in Germany. The appeal of this oratorio (‘Creation’)
was doubly strong on account of its simplicity of conception and
musical expression, so that in all directions choral societies were
formed for the express purpose of producing it. A wide demand for
choral works was created, but nothing of permanent value came in
response until Mendelssohn’s ‘St. Paul.’ On the whole Mendelssohn’s
oratorio-arias suffer from a lack of forcefulness due to the remarkable
ease with which he invented sensuously charming melodies, so that
many of them lack depth; but in choral writing his extraordinary
architectonic skill led him firmly to a style which carries him close
to the height where Handel dwelt.

‘St. Paul’ was the first of Mendelssohn’s great oratorios.
It was written at the request of the Cecilia Society of
Frankfort-on-the-Main--begun in Düsseldorf and completed at Leipzig,
when the composer was in his twenty-sixth year. The text was written by
the composer with the assistance of his friends Fürst and Schubring,
after A. B. Marx had declined to write it on the ground that the
introduction of chorales would be unsuited to the period of the
narrative. The work is developed from three main themes--the martyrdom
of St. Stephen, the conversion of St. Paul and the latter’s career
after this event. Lampadius calls the work ‘the glorification of
Christianity with its humility, its joy in living and dying for the
Lord, in contrast to the blind self-righteousness of Judaism and the
more sensuous morality of the heathen schools. It is the contrast, or
rather the struggle, of the last two with the first, and the victory
of the light and love of the Gospel. This thought is made incarnate in
the persons of Stephen, Paul and Barnabas; and is concentrated in the
really central point of interest of the whole oratorio--the conversion
of St. Paul.’

The first performance of this work took place on May 22, 1836, on the
occasion of the Lower Rhine Festival at Düsseldorf, the Cecilia Society
of Frankfort having been compelled to forego its production because
of the illness of its conductor. On Oct. 3rd, 1836, the first English
performance was given at Liverpool. In the meantime, notwithstanding
its success, Mendelssohn had revised the work and shortened it by
omitting ten numbers. The enthusiasm with which ‘St. Paul’ was received
was unprecedented, in Germany alone one hundred and fifty performances
being given within eighteen months of its first production at
Düsseldorf.

The rather long and expressive overture is followed directly by the
first chorus, ‘Lord! Thou alone art God!’ which is very massively
scored and expresses great exultation. The mood of this chorus changes,
as it approaches its middle section, to the more excited and restless
theme, ‘The heathen furiously rage’; but soon returns to the mood
with which it opens and passes on directly to the chorale, ‘To God on
High.’ This nobly beautiful melody is the beloved old German chorale,
‘_Allein Gott in der Höh’ sei Ehr_.’ The next part marks the martyrdom
of Stephen. A powerful choral recitative for the basses accuses him of
blasphemy and the multitude takes up the cry, ‘Now this man ceaseth
not to utter blasphemous words.’ Stephen replies to this in a very
expressive solo, ‘Men, Brethren and Fathers!’ but the people again give
way to their anger in the strong chorus, ‘Take him away!’ The soprano
solo, ‘Jerusalem, thou that killest the prophets,’ is a most eloquent
admonition, but uttered in vain. The people in a tumult of frenzy
demand his death (‘Stone him to death’). The pathetic tenor recitative
tells of the tragic deed. Then follows a beautiful chorale of complete
resignation, ‘To Thee, O Lord, I yield my spirit.’ Following this
chorale, comes the calm and comforting chorus, ‘Happy and blest are
they,’ with its fluent, expressive melodies. The fiery, threatening
aria for bass, ‘Consume them all,’ brings Saul upon the scene. ‘But
the Lord is mindful of His own’ follows and offers a complete contrast
in its quiet and lovely melody for alto. Now occurs the most vital
point of interest in the oratorio, the conversion. A voice from heaven
(effectively represented by a soprano choir) is heard in the words,
‘Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou Me?’ An orchestral interlude leads
with gradually growing crescendo to the powerful chorus, ‘Rise up!
arise!’ This is succeeded by the chorale, ‘Sleepers, wake! a voice
is calling,’ in which the effect is greatly enhanced by the trumpet
figure following each choral line. The general mood grows more profound
and serious as Saul offers up a prayer, ‘O God, have mercy upon me.’
Forgiveness and mercy are offered by Ananias and Saul’s sight is
restored to him and he is baptized as Paul the apostle. The first part
comes to a conclusion with the strong, exultant chorus, ‘O great is the
depth of the riches of wisdom.’

A noble and dignified fugue, ‘The nations are now the Lord’s,’ opens
the second part of the oratorio. There soon follows the chorus, ‘How
lovely are the messengers that preach us the gospel of peace,’ one
of the most beautifully melodious numbers in the whole work. It is
succeeded by the soprano aria, ‘I will sing of Thy great mercies.’
But the scorn and rage of the Jews are aroused by the cures which
Paul works in the name of the very prophet whose disciples he once so
cruelly persecuted. The angry chorus, ‘Is this he who in Jerusalem,’
is followed by another chorale, ‘O Thou the true and only light,’ a
fervent prayer of the Church for divine guidance. Paul and Barnabas
depart for Lystra. Paul heals the cripple at Lystra and the multitude
is deeply stirred. At this point Mendelssohn brings the three types of
religion--Greek, Christian and Jewish--in fine contrast in the three
choruses--‘O be gracious, ye immortals,’ full of Pagan sensuousness,
‘But our God abideth in heaven,’ with its calm assurance of Christian
faith, and ‘This is Jehovah’s temple,’ in which the uncompromising
intolerance of the Jews is angrily voiced. Paul bids a sorrowful
farewell to his brethren (‘Be thou faithful unto death’) and the
congregation tenderly responds, ‘Far be it from thy path.’ Two of
the finest choruses of the work are the final numbers, ‘See what
love hath the Father’ and ‘Now only unto Him.’ Two of the ‘St. Paul’
choruses--the beautiful chorale ‘To Thee, O Lord, I yield my spirit’
and the melodious ‘Happy and blest are they’--were chosen to be sung at
Mendelssohn’s obsequies.


                                   III

‘Elijah.’--Mendelssohn waited a full ten years after the performance
of ‘St. Paul’ before he produced another oratorio on such broad lines
and when ‘Elijah’ appeared in 1846, the world recognized that it
was an event that transcended in importance any similar event since
Handel’s ‘Messiah.’ ‘Elijah’ is certainly Mendelssohn’s finest and most
sustained flight and there are not wanting those critics who stoutly
maintain that it is unsurpassed in the whole literature of oratorio. In
it the composer enters new paths. He gives full rein to the intensely
dramatic side of the text and freely departs from the conventional form
of oratorio--so much so that the work might safely be called a sacred
opera. ‘Elijah’ was long in the composer’s mind and he worked on it
carefully and with profoundest affection and sympathy, for although
he had embraced Christianity, there was something about the heroic
character of the old Hebrew militant prophet that struck deep into
the fibres of his being. Work on it was begun as early as 1840, but
he did not earnestly begin the composition of the music (the text he
compiled largely himself) until 1845. It was first performed at the
Birmingham Festival on August 26th, 1846, when Mendelssohn conducted it
before an enormous audience which extended to the composer one of the
most thrilling ovations ever enjoyed by a musician. Though its success
was most extraordinary, Mendelssohn was not deterred from carefully
revising it. It is interesting to note that the universally popular
‘angels’ trio’ (‘Lift thine eyes’) was originally written for only two
voices.

The most startling innovation of the whole oratorio is the short,
impressive bass recitative which precedes the overture--Elijah’s
dramatic prophecy of the drought. Then follows the sombre, gloomy
overture portraying the results of the curse as the drought settles
over the land and dries up the waters. It leads without pause into the
opening chorus, ‘Help, Lord,’ which voices the anguished appeal of the
drought--and famine-stricken people. This dramatic supplication leads
into a second chorus, ‘Lord, bow Thine ear to our prayer,’ with a duet
for two sopranos, supported by a unison chorus, the theme of which is
based on an old Hebrew chant and is intoned first by the male and then
by the female voices. The succeeding tenor aria (Obadiah), ‘If with all
your hearts,’ is of great beauty. The people are not consoled and again
burst forth into vehement complaint, ‘Yet doth the Lord see it not,’
which changes toward the end into a lovely chorale, ‘For He the Lord
our God.’ An angel’s voice then calls Elijah to the waters of Cherith.
A beautiful double quartet follows, whose simple melody is worked up
with fine effect, ‘For He shall give His angels charge over thee,’
Elijah is now bidden by the angel to the widow’s house at Zarephath.
The raising of her son follows in a dramatic scene consisting of
the mother’s passionate cry, ‘What have I to do with thee,’ and the
prophet’s ‘Give me thy son.’ The scene then closes with the chorus,
‘Blessed are the men who fear Him,’ The next scene is one of the most
dramatic portions of the work--the appearance of the prophet before
Ahab, his defiant challenge to the priests of Baal to the sacrifice
on Mount Carmel, and the thrilling trial by fire. This part includes
the truly Pagan choruses, ‘Baal, we cry to thee’ and ‘Hear our cry,
O Baal’; Elijah’s taunt, ‘Call him louder’; the prophet’s dignified
appeal, ‘Lord God of Abraham,’ followed by the simple chorale, ‘Cast
thy burden on the Lord’; the summoning of fire from heaven upon the
altars, and the picturesque and descriptive chorus, ‘The fire descends
from heaven.’ The priests are doomed to destruction by Elijah in an
excited recitative. Following a choral response, Elijah sings the
highly dramatic and difficult aria, ‘Is not His word like a fire?’
Another aria, ‘Woe unto them,’ for alto voice, succeeds Elijah’s and
the rain scene begins. In answer to Obadiah’s appeal to help the
people, Elijah sings his expressive invocation for rain, ‘Look down
from heaven,’ and after several choral responses, together with the
exclamations of Elijah and the youth who is sent ‘to look toward the
sea,’ the signs of rain appear. Then follows the most thrilling climax
of the whole work. As the clouds grow black with rain and the storm
gathers force, the people begin to voice their thanks, the orchestra
describes the rushing waters, and finally the whole chorus joins in a
tumultuous outburst of thanksgiving (‘Thanks be to God’) which brings
the first part to a magnificent close.

An effective soprano solo, ‘Hear ye, Israel,’ opens the second part.
This leads into the strong, majestic chorus, ‘Be not afraid,’ one of
Mendelssohn’s finest choral efforts, in which the regular musical
forces are augmented by the organ. Elijah needs the encouragement of
this admonition, for he again confronts Ahab and condemns the worship
of Baal. The queen, Jezebel, accuses him of working to destroy Israel
and the people in wrath shout, ‘Let the guilty prophet perish.’ Obadiah
bids him fly to the wilderness. The next scene reveals the persecuted
prophet alone and discouraged. In a pathetic plaint, ‘It is enough,’
he resigns himself to death and, wearied with flight, he falls asleep
under the juniper tree ‘and the angels encamp round about him.’ This
leads directly to what is undoubtedly the most exquisitely beautiful
vocal trio in existence--the pure and serene ‘Lift thine eyes,’ sung
_a cappella_ by the watching angels. Without pause there follows the
beautiful chorus, ‘He watching over Israel.’ The angel then awakens
Elijah, who complains pathetically, ‘O Lord, I have labored in vain.’
‘O rest in the Lord,’ sung by the angel, offers Elijah consolation.
The encouraging chorus, ‘He shall endure to the end,’ brings the scene
to a majestic close. The following scene reveals a changed Elijah. He
yearns now for the divine presence instead of for death. In a sudden
outburst the chorus exclaims, ‘Behold, God the Lord passed by.’ A
sudden _pianissimo_ works up into an impressive _crescendo_, and once
more appears a _pianissimo_ as the chorus impressively exclaims, ‘The
Lord was not in the tempest.’ The earthquake and the tempest and the
fire follow. ‘And there came a still, small voice ... and in that
still, small voice onward came the Lord.’ Elijah was transformed by
the experience and went on his way ‘in the strength of the Lord.’ His
strong, confident aria follows, ‘For the mountains shall depart.’ A
powerful chorus states that ‘Then did Elijah the prophet break forth
like a fire’ and there follows the dramatic choral narrative of the
prophet’s ascent into heaven in a fiery chariot. The fine tenor aria,
‘Then, then shall the righteous shine,’ and the melodious quartet,
‘Oh! come, every one that thirsteth,’ lead over into the final choral
number--a magnificent fugue (‘Lord, our Creator’), introduced by the
majestic phrase, ‘And then shall your light break forth.’

‘Hymn of Praise.’--This symphony-cantata was composed to commemorate
the fourth centennial of the invention of the art of printing, held at
Leipzig, in June, 1840. A second performance followed at Birmingham,
Mendelssohn conducting, a few months later, Sept. 23rd. Dramatically
it has no very great significance, being designed purely as a ‘tribute
of praise’ for the manifold gifts of the Lord, among them being the
art of printing--which the text, based upon the Scriptures, carefully
elucidates.

The symphony, or instrumental prelude, is divided into three parts,
opening with a majestic trombone passage which clearly anticipates
the mood of the ensuing cantata. The real ‘Hymn of Praise’ is given
out in the opening chorus, ‘All that has life and breath,’ based upon
the motive heard in the opening measure of the prelude. The work then
moves on in a majestic manner, reaching its climax with the entrance
of the impressive chorus, ‘The night is departing.’ A final chorus,
‘Ye nations, offer to the Lord,’ is in fugal form and is inspiring in
its massiveness. The choral motive, ‘All that has life and breath,’
is again given out _fortissimo_ and brings the work to an impressive
close. The duet for two sopranos, ‘I waited for the Lord,’ is one of
the most beautiful numbers in this work.


                                   IV

The dazzling achievements of Liszt (1811-86) as a pianoforte virtuoso
and the popularity and originality of his instrumental compositions
have put his choral work in an unfortunate perspective; and they have
by no means received the attention they richly merit. Two of the finest
examples of oratorio of this period are from the brilliant Abbé’s pen,
both written in the full maturity of his powers and with the employment
of all his immense resources of dramatic and emotional expression.
They are ‘Christus’ and ‘The Legend of the Holy Elizabeth.’ The latter
legend, familiar to English readers through Canon Kingsley’s dramatic
poem, ‘The Saint’s Tragedy,’ deals with the life of the daughter of
King Andreas II of Hungary, born in 1207, who at the age of four was
sent to the Wartburg to be brought up as the affianced bride of Ludwig,
son of the Landgrave Hermann of Thuringia. After their marriage in 1220
wonderful tales were told of her devotion to the poor, of her pious
Christian life, and, after Ludwig’s death, of the cruel hardships which
the hatred of her mother-in-law brought upon her. She died in 1231 and
was canonized at Marburg in 1235 by command of Pope Gregory IX.

‘The Legend of Saint Elizabeth’ was composed in 1864 and received its
first performance in Budapest on August 15, 1865, which event marked
the twenty-fifth anniversary of the establishment of the Budapest
Conservatory. The composition, however, was really undertaken at the
request of the Duke of Weimar for a festival held at the Wartburg on
Aug. 28, 1867, commemorating both the eighth centenary of its founding
and also the restoration of the romantic old castle which was so
intimately associated with the legend of St. Elizabeth. The text by
Otto Roquette was inspired by the six magnificent frescoes by Moritz
von Schwind which adorn the walls of the Wartburg, and it is divided
into six scenes corresponding to the six frescoes.

The first scene opens with an orchestral introduction which sets forth
the Elizabeth motive, taken from an old ecclesiastical melody. The
music grows animated as it leads into the first chorus, which joyfully
welcomes the child Elizabeth, who as the affianced bride of Ludwig,
son of the Landgrave of Thuringia, comes to the Wartburg, where she
is brought up side by side with her future husband. The second scene
reveals the happy matron Elizabeth, now for some years the wife of
Ludwig. One of the most beautiful parts of the whole work is the duet
between Elizabeth and Ludwig as he surprises her in her alms-deeds
which she tries to conceal from him because of her mother-in-law’s
fierce disapproval of them. Especially dramatic and beautiful is the
portion dealing with the ‘Rose Miracle.’ The quaint story of this
episode is as follows: Elizabeth, having dismissed her ladies in order
that she may secretly bring bread and wine to some of her poor, sick
subjects, suddenly meets her husband in the deep forest far from the
Wartburg. Ludwig’s suspicions are aroused and when he asks what her
basket contains, she tells him that she has been gathering roses.
Ludwig, who does not believe her, seizes the basket, when she hastily
confesses that it is bread and wine, and behold! the contents of the
basket have been turned into roses! Liszt was very desirous of having
this very mysterious and ethereal and indicated in the score that the
orchestra should in this part ‘sound fairly transfigured’ and that the
conductor should ‘scarcely mark the rhythm’ in order not to imperil the
effect. The penitent Ludwig begs her forgiveness and as she asks, ‘Is
it a dream?’ the chorus responds, ‘A wonder hath the Lord performed.’

Scene three opens with the stately chorus of crusaders (‘In Palestine,
the Holy Land’) with dignified march accompaniment, which leads to
Ludwig’s farewell to his wife on his departure for the Holy Wars.
Then ensues Elizabeth’s passionate entreaty, ‘Oh tarry! O shorten not
the hour,’ followed by the pathetic ‘With grief my spirit wrestles,’
after which the stirring chorus and march of the crusaders closes the
scene. Scene four, with its short, sombre orchestral prelude, announces
the death of Ludwig, the bitter antagonism of Landgravine Sophie,
Elizabeth’s mother-in-law, who drives the sorrowing, broken-hearted
young widow from her home. Especially dramatic are the dialogues,
in the midst of which is Elizabeth’s aria, ‘O day of mourning, day
of sorrow,’ in which she pours out her grief as she fares forth in
the storm. Scene five discloses Elizabeth on her death-bed in a
hospital founded by herself, where she has forgotten her own sorrow in
ministering unto others. Her last words (‘Unto mine end Thy love has
led me’), after a gradual _decrescendo_ in the orchestra, are followed
by a chorus of angels, ‘All grief is o’er,’ closing with the celestial
strains of harps. An orchestral interlude, in which are developed the
main themes of the work, leads to the last scene, which depicts the
canonization of Elizabeth at Marburg in the presence of the Emperor.
This ceremony closes the work with a chorus of the people mourning her
death, choruses of the crusaders, of the church choristers and bishops,
and finally an imposing six-part chorus, the Latin hymn, _Tu pro nobis,
mater pia_.

_Christus_ was composed in 1866 during Liszt’s residence in Rome, just
after he had been appointed Abbé by his friend, Archbishop Hohenlohe,
and at a time when, it is said, he entertained high hopes of being
appointed chapel-master of the Papal Choir. But, though he was in high
favor with the Catholic hierarchy, nothing came of it. The _Christus_
was written soon after the ‘Legend of St. Elizabeth,’ but, while both
are deeply imbued with the spirit of Roman Catholicism, the former
reflects the deep interest which he took in religious matters at the
time far more than does the latter. Liszt compiled the text, which is
in Latin, entirely from the Bible and from the Roman liturgy. There are
three divisions to the work--(1) ‘The Nativity,’ (2) ‘After Epiphany,’
dealing with the Lord’s life and ministry, and (3) ‘The Passion and
the Resurrection.’ The first fragmentary performance of ‘Christus’
took place July 6, 1867, at the Sala Dantesca, in Rome, and another in
Vienna in 1871. The first complete production was at Weimar in 1873
under the direction of the composer.

The first part, containing five numbers, opens with an orchestral
prelude built on an ancient plain-song melody, _Rorate cœli_, in
Isaiah’s prophecy. This leads into a quaint Pastoral, after which
comes the angels’ announcement of Jesus’ birth and a _Gloria in
excelsis_. A devotional setting of the old Latin hymn, _Stabat mater
speciosa_, leads into two orchestral movements of great beauty--‘The
Song of the Shepherds at the Manger,’ a lovely pastoral, and ‘The
March of the Three Kings,’ an elaborate number in which the high tones
of the violins and flutes typify the Star of Bethlehem. The second
part contains ‘The Beatitudes’ for baritone and six-part chorus, the
Lord’s Prayer, a part entitled ‘The Founding of the Church’ (_Tu es
Petrus_), ‘The Miracle’ (Jesus calming the storm), again treated
orchestrally, and ‘The Entry into Jerusalem,’ a brilliantly scored
tone-picture, mainly instrumental, save for two vocal passages--a
Hosanna for chorus and a Benedictus for mezzo-soprano and chorus. The
third part opens with the pathetic solo _Tristis est anima mea_ (‘My
soul is sorrowful’), in which the Christ pours out his soul to Peter
and his companions on the way to Gethsemane. The orchestra plays a most
important part in the expression of this tragic struggle, after which
the ancient Latin hymn, _Stabat mater dolorosa_, is given with combined
orchestral and choral forces. Of all the settings of this celebrated
liturgic text, Liszt’s is the most powerful and impressive, though it
is too overwhelming in its effect for use in the church-service. This
lengthy and elaborate number is contrasted strongly with the following
simple and quaint Easter hymn, _O filii et filiæ_, which prepares the
listener for the majestic _Resurrexit_ (‘Resurrection’) which follows
and builds up a final climax, with the combined resources of chorus and
orchestra, that is really commensurate with the grandeur of the theme.

Liszt himself regarded the _Christus_ as his best work--‘my musical
will and testament’--and in works of its class it certainly stands
unique in the intensity of its expression and in the unusual
combination of mediæval church atmosphere and modern musical
resources--a powerful fusing of the old and the new. It is scarcely
an oratorio in the usual understanding of the term, but rather a kind
of liturgic mystery, such as Lesueur strove to build up but did not
complete. It cannot be considered apart from the religious faith of
its composer and from this point of view it stands as the highest
representative of Roman Catholic oratorio.


                                   V

The influence of England on oratorio is by no means to be measured
by the number of original works of this class produced by Englishmen.
No other country in the world has such a record of long and unbroken
loyalty to this musical form and no other country has so freely opened
its doors to composers of other nationalities. When one recalls that
Handel’s series of magnificent oratorios was written for English
appreciation, that Haydn’s ‘Creation’ drew its inspiration from London,
that Mendelssohn’s ‘Elijah,’ Gounod’s ‘Redemption’ and _Mors et Vita_,
and many other oratorios of less worth were written for, and received
their initial performances before, English festival audiences, one can
form some estimate of what English love of choral art has done for its
development.

English composers of this period were still using the musical
phraseology of Handel and Mendelssohn, so that not much can be said
of the individual works produced, though several were worthy and held
a certain popularity for a long time. Among the more notable English
oratorios of the period were Sir Julius Benedict’s ‘St. Peter’ (1870),
George Alexander Macfarren’s ‘St. John the Baptist,’ which was received
enthusiastically at the Bristol Festival of 1873, William Sterndale
Bennett’s ‘The Woman of Samaria,’ and Sir Michael Costa’s ‘Eli’ and
‘Naaman’ (Birmingham Festival, 1864).

‘The Woman of Samaria,’ a ‘sacred cantata’ by W. Sterndale Bennett
(1816-75), was first performed at Birmingham August 27, 1867. The
story, taken from the fourth chapter of St. John’s Gospel, follows
literally the Bible narrative--Jesus’ journey to Samaria, his rest at
the well, and the entrance of the Samaritan woman. This is interspersed
with choral and solo passages, the former enacting the part of
moralist, commenting upon the situations as they occur by means of
appropriate scriptural selections. The part of the Woman of Samaria is
sung by the soprano, while the declamatory parts are assigned to the
contralto. The tenor has but one aria and the bass acts almost entirely
as narrator, the Saviour’s words being always related in the third
person. In a single instance the chorus assumes the rôle of narrator,
‘Now we believe,’ where the words are part of the story.

A short instrumental prelude leads to the chorale, ‘Ye Christian
people now rejoice,’ for sopranos only. The melody used is an old one,
having appeared in the _Geistliche Lieder_ (Wittenberg) in 1535. The
chorale is interestingly treated by means of opposing rhythm in the
orchestral part. The recitative for contralto, ‘Then cometh Jesus to a
city of Samaria,’ opens the oratorio proper. After a chorus, ‘Blessed
be the Lord God of Israel,’ and short recitatives for bass, contralto
and soprano, which are again followed by a chorus, there ensues the
conversation between the Saviour and the woman, during which Jesus
tells her of her past life. She replies in the beautiful contralto
solo, ‘O Lord, Thou hast searched me out,’ which is full of tender
expression. During the dialogue, the divine nature of Jesus is revealed
to the woman and there follows the six-part chorus, ‘Therefore they
shall come and sing,’ and this in turn is succeeded by the deeply
devotional and well-known quartet, ‘God is a Spirit,’ sung by the
solo voices _a cappella_. A soprano solo, ‘I will love Thee, O Lord,’
was introduced into the oratorio after the death of the composer,
among whose manuscripts it was found. This was done for two reasons,
to indicate the conversion of the woman and also to interrupt the
series of choruses. Among the remaining numbers are a lovely chorale,
‘Abide with me, fast falls the eventide,’ and the fine chorus, ‘Now
we believe.’ The work is brought to a close with a majestic fugue,
‘Blessed be the Lord God of Israel.’ An atmosphere of devotion pervades
the work and, while the composer recognizes the worldly character of
the woman, he sees also the possibilities of her intuitive religious
feeling, which the Master needed only to awaken.

Costa’s ‘Eli’ was first produced at the Birmingham Festival, August
29, 1855, under the direction of the composer. The text follows the
scriptural narrative in the first book of Samuel and was arranged by
William Bartholomew. In a rather disconnected manner, and with the
story of young Samuel as a central point, it deals with the service of
Eli the priest, the carousals of his dissolute sons, the sorrows of
Elkanah and Hannah, and the exploits of the warlike Philistines. Some
of the finer numbers of the oratorio are Eli’s sombre invocation, ‘Hear
my prayer, O Lord’; Hannah’s joyful song, ‘I will extol Thee, O Lord’;
the elaborate fugal chorus, ‘Hosanna in the highest,’ which closes the
first part; the familiar orchestral march of the Israelites; Samuel’s
devout evening prayer, ‘This night I lift my heart to Thee,’ followed
by the beautiful female chorus of angels with harp accompaniment, ‘No
evil shall befall thee’; and the vigorous chorus, ‘Woe unto us, we are
spoiled,’ sung by the Israelites when their crushing defeat by the
Philistines is announced.


                                   VI

The oratorio in France had a slow beginning and has throughout its
development displayed traits distinctly traceable to two sources, the
first of which is the national fondness for theatrical settings for
all dramatic works. Even _La nativité_ by Gossec (1734-1829) probably
gained wide attention when given at the Tuileries Cathedral, because
the composer had a chorus of angels concealed in the dome, thereby
giving a more picturesquely dramatic effect. Concert-oratorio, in
which the sources of enjoyment are largely limited to pure choral
effects, divorced from dramatic content, has never made a wide appeal
in France. The second source of the characteristics of French oratorio
is to be found in the influence which the liturgy of the Roman Church
has exercised over this art-form. French oratorio has preserved a
close connection with the old Gallican liturgic drama of the Middle
Ages--so much so that the word ‘mystery’ has almost entirely superseded
‘oratorio’ as a title or sub-title for this form of composition. Its
line of descent from the mediæval mysteries is still further identified
in the subject-matter itself, which usually concerns itself with the
mysteries of Christian faith and church doctrine. The titles most
frequently subjoined by the composers are ‘sacred drama,’ ‘biblical
scene,’ etc., rather than ‘oratorio.’ Here lies the distinct line of
demarcation between oratorio from the Protestant and Roman Catholic
points of view.

The first of the French composers to write a series of oratorios[80]
was François Lesueur (1760-1837) and the strongest of these is his
‘Christmas Oratorio’ written in 1826, which is a combination of drama
and churchly office. Lesueur was of the opinion that ecclesiastical
music must of necessity be liturgical and therefore based on the
Gregorian chant and accent. This work is really an adaptation of the
Christmas Mass treated as an oratorio-text, the parts of which are
distributed as solos, choruses and ensemble passages among the persons
assembled around the manger. Most of these lightly scored passages are
built upon old liturgical melodies or upon old French Christmas songs,
and the harp is very lavishly used in the instrumentation. The text is
in Latin, taken from the Vulgate. After the _Kyrie_, accompanied by
string quartet, there follows the appearance of the angels, closing
with a short instrumental coda. After this comes a _Gloria in excelsis_
and a pastoral instrumental passage (Shepherds on the Fields of
Bethlehem) scored for violas and horns. Two holy women sing as a duet
the _Gratias agimus tibi_ and the closing number consists of a pastoral
hymn to the words, _Jam desinant suspiria_.

One of the most important of the French romantic oratorios is Hector
Berlioz’s sacred trilogy, _L’enfance du Christ_ (‘The Childhood of
Christ’), which was written in 1854 and performed in Paris and Brussels
the same year. This oratorio, dealing with the flight of the Holy
Family, is really an enlargement of an earlier cantata, _Fuite en
Egypt_ (‘The Flight into Egypt’), and shows traces of the influence
of Lesueur, whose pupil, Berlioz, caught the operatic spirit that was
associated with his master’s work. The oratorio, the text of which
is by the composer, consists of three rather short parts--The Dream
of Herod, The Flight into Egypt and The Arrival in Sais. The first
part depicts Herod, tormented by awful dreams and influenced by the
soothsayers to kill the first-born men-children. The music is sombre,
but in the Herod passages takes on the operatic style referred to
above. In strong contrast to this is the second part, which deals
entirely with the Holy Family and reveals qualities of loveliness and
naïveté as it depicts the babe Jesus greeted by the chorus of angels.
The most elaborate part is the third, especially the portion which
reveals Joseph demanding shelter where he has been refused. Here the
music assumes a dramatic and brilliant development.

Although Charles Gounod (1818-93) after the extraordinary success
of his masterpiece, ‘Faust,’ was firmly established as one of the
foremost opera-composers of Europe, he never lost touch with religious
music and finally abandoned the stage entirely for the style that lay
closest to his real ambition, becoming the greatest, if not indeed the
only great, composer of oratorio in France during this period. As a
winner of the _Grand Prix de Rome_ he had studied ecclesiastical music,
especially the works of Palestrina; during a visit to Vienna in 1842
he had produced a Requiem in the church of St. Charles, which created
a profound impression, and soon after returning to Paris he had even
seriously thought of taking holy orders. Wide attention was first
attracted to him by the London performance of portions of his _Messe
solennelle_, and even during the period of his greatest fame from his
stage-works, he constantly reverted to the composition of sacred music.
His two great oratorios--‘The Redemption’ and _Mors et Vita_--strike
out a somewhat new path for this art-form. Here he abandons entirely
the contrapuntal and fugal character of the chorus as being artificial
and unessential, thus departing completely from Handelian and
Mendelssohnian models, and adopts from the Wagnerian music-drama the
system of ‘leading motives,’ of which he makes limited use to designate
important and representative religious or dramatic themes. Both of
these oratorios were composed for English audiences, and Gounod’s
residence in London after the Franco-Prussian War and his acquaintance
with the English festival oratorio undoubtedly colored the compositions
to such an extent that they might almost be called English oratorios.

‘The Redemption.’--This work was originally intended as the first
part of a ‘Sacred Trilogy,’ as he styled it, only the second of which
(_Mors et Vita_) was ever completed; the composition of the third was
prevented by his death. The seriousness with which Gounod approached
this work is evidenced by the inscription--‘the work of my life’--which
he wrote on the opening page of the first of the great works, ‘The
Redemption.’ This had been begun in 1867 in Rome, where the composer
wrote his text and set a few numbers of the music, but it was not
completed until twelve years later and the first performance took place
on August 30, 1882, at the Birmingham Festival. It was heard in Paris,
May 22nd, 1886, and for the first time in America in the winter of
1883-1884 under the direction of Theodore Thomas. It is dedicated to
Queen Victoria.

In the preface of his work Gounod states: ‘This work is a lyrical
setting forth of the three great facts on which depends the existence
of the Christian Church. These facts are: 1. The Passion and the Death
of the Saviour. 2. His glorious life on earth from His Resurrection
to His Ascension. 3. The spread of Christianity in the world through
the mission of the Apostles.’ This trilogy is preceded by a ‘Prologue
on the creation, the fall of our first parents and the promise of the
Redeemer.’ The work is divided in accordance with the above as follows:

Prologue--The Creation.

Part I.--Calvary.

Part II.--From the Resurrection to the Ascension.

Part III.--The Pentecost.

The personages are Jesus, Mary and two narrators. The composition,
which by some is pronounced the finest of modern oratorios, is a
curious mixture of old and new ways of musical treatment. While Gounod,
evidently influenced by Wagner, made use of ‘leading motives,’ he
also used the narrator in the same manner as did Bach and in like
manner treats the chorale. After a short instrumental introduction,
descriptive of chaos, and the narrator’s recitative concerning the
fall of man, the Redemption theme is heard and it appears wherever the
atonement is thought of. This beautiful leading motive is heard nine
times during the course of the work and is most effectively introduced
in the first chorus, ‘The earth is my possession.’ Its most touching
use is where Jesus tells the dying malefactor, ‘To-day shalt thou be
with Me in Paradise,’ and its most impressively triumphant appearance
is in the orchestral part at the close of the splendid chorus, ‘Unfold,
ye portals everlasting.’

The first part treats of the condemnation of Jesus, the crucifixion,
Mary at the foot of the cross and Jesus’ conversation with the two
thieves. It contains some finely written solos and choruses, and
the two instrumental numbers--‘The March to Calvary’ and the number
descriptive of the darkness that fell over the earth as Jesus uttered
his last words. The second part includes the events in the period
between the Resurrection and the Ascension. Among the beautiful
numbers in this part are the trio of Holy Women (two sopranos and a
contralto) ‘The Lord, He is risen again,’ and the lovely chorus with
soprano obbligato, ‘From Thy love as a Father.’ Possibly the strongest
chorus in the whole work is ‘Unfold, ye portals everlasting,’ which
is so often sung as a separate chorus number. The third part with
its beautiful orchestral introduction has for its first chorus the
melodious ‘Lovely appear over the mountains,’ followed by one of the
most exquisite portions of the whole work, the soprano solo, ‘Over
the barren wastes.’ After a repetition of the preceding chorus, there
follow the impressive events of the day of Pentecost, the Apostles at
prayer (for orchestra alone), the descent of the Spirit and the singing
of the Beatitudes. The close is a repetition of the majestic apostles’
hymn in unison, with the whole chorus, orchestra and organ massed in a
magnificent structure with grandiose effect.

_Mors et Vita_ is the second of his contemplated ‘sacred trilogy,’ of
which ‘The Redemption’ was the first. The Latin text is compiled from
the Catholic liturgy and from the Vulgate, and the work is dedicated
to Pope Leo XIII. The first performance took place at the Birmingham
Festival, August 26, 1885, under the direction of Richter, and the
first performance in Paris, in May, 1886. Gounod writes in the preface:
‘It will perhaps be asked why, in the title, I have placed death before
life. It is because in the order of eternal things death precedes life,
although in the order of temporal things life precedes death.’ He also
refers to his use of ‘leading motives,’ which are also employed in
‘The Redemption.’ There are four of these, the first of which, a theme
made up of four tones (a sequence of three major seconds), is supposed
to express ‘the terror inspired by the sense of the inflexibility of
Justice and, in consequence, by that of the anguish of punishment. Its
sternness gives expression both to the sentences of Divine Justice and
the sufferings of the condemned, and is found in combination throughout
the whole work with melodic forms which express sentiments altogether
different, as in the _Sanctus_ and the _Pie Jesu_ of the _Requiem_
which forms the first part.’ The second, the motive of sorrow and
tears, is, by the alteration of one tone, changed into a motive of joy.
Of the fourth, Gounod writes: ‘By means of a threefold superposition,
it results in the interval of an augmented fifth and announces the
awakening of the dead at the terrifying call of the angelic trumpets,
of which St. Paul speaks in one of his epistles to the Corinthians.’

A short Prologue leads to the first part, _Mors_ (Death), which is a
_Requiem_ expanded by interpolated texts of a reflective character.
The second part, called _Judicium_ (Last Judgment), contains six
subdivisions, as follows: The Sleep of the Dead, The Trumpets at the
Last Judgment, The Resurrection of the Dead, The Judge, The Judgment of
the Elect, The Judgment of the Rejected. The third part, _Vita_ (Life),
using the text of St. John’s vision in the Apocalypse, describes the
joys of the Holy City, New Jerusalem, closing with an exultant _Hosanna
in excelsis_.

Among the finest choruses of the oratorio are the _Quid sum miser_
(‘Ah! What shall we then be pleading’) and the _Lacrymosa dies illa_
(‘Day of weeping, day of mourning’) from the _Dies iræ_. Probably the
greatest aria of the work is the soprano solo, _Beati qui lavant_ (‘The
righteous shall enter into Glory Eternal’).

The theme which Gounod has chosen presents opportunities for orchestral
effects which such a master of orchestration as he was would naturally
seize upon, and several of the numbers are for orchestra alone--The
Epilogue to the first part, in which the various leading motives are
developed, The Judge, and The Heavenly Jerusalem.


                              FOOTNOTES:

[80] These oratorios were, in addition to the one named, ‘Deborah,’
‘Rachel,’ ‘Ruth and Naomi,’ ‘Ruth and Boaz,’ and the three ‘Coronation
Oratorios’ written for the three days’ coronation ceremonies of
Napoleon in 1804 (in reality three masses expanded so as to include the
special ceremonies).




                               CHAPTER IX

                          THE MODERN ORATORIO

     Brahms: ‘German Requiem’; Dvořák: ‘St. Ludmila’--César
     Franck: ‘The Beatitudes’--Tinel: ‘Franciscus’; Benoît:
     ‘Lucifer’--Saint-Saëns: ‘Christmas Oratorio’; ‘The Deluge’;
     Massenet: _Ève_; _Marie Madeleine_; Dubois: ‘Paradise
     Lost’--Oratorio in England; Mackenzie: ‘The Rose of Sharon’;
     ‘Bethlehem’; Parry: ‘Judith’; ‘Job’; ‘King Saul’--Stanford:
     ‘The Three Holy Children’; ‘Eden’; Sullivan: ‘The Prodigal
     Son’; ‘The Light of the World’; Cowen--Oratorio in America;
     Paine: ‘St. Peter’; Horatio Parker: _Hora Novissima_; ‘The
     Legend of St. Christopher.’


                                   I

‘The German Requiem’ is the largest of Brahms’ several choral works
and was the first of his compositions to bring him fame and to verify
Schumann’s enthusiastic prophecy concerning him. The work, consisting
of seven numbers, is mainly choral, though there are baritone and
soprano solos, and it was first heard in its entirety at Bremen on Good
Friday, 1868. Its first English performance was in 1873 and it was
heard for the first time in America at the Cincinnati May Festival in
1884 under Theodore Thomas’ direction.

The title ‘Requiem’ is in a measure misleading, as it has nothing
in common with the setting of the Catholic Mass for the Dead. It is
much broader in scope than the customary use of this term as a form
of religious music would imply. While it points out the emptiness and
vanity of material life, its dominant note is one of consolation,
expanding into joy and leading to the ultimate triumph over death and
the grave. The composition of the ‘German Requiem’ was suggested by the
death of the composer’s mother in 1865 and the work itself is generally
regarded as Brahms’ masterpiece, Maitland going so far as to call it
‘the greatest achievement of modern sacred music in Germany.’

The first chorus, ‘Blessed are they that go mourning,’ is a beautiful
composition, its charm being greatly enhanced by its rich orchestral
accompaniment. No. 2, the Funeral March, is written in triple time,
which through Brahms’ magic is made to express vividly the measured
tread of the mourners. No. 3, ‘Lord, make me to know the measure of
my days on earth,’ consists of a baritone solo followed by two choral
fugues which are very effective though of great difficulty. No. 4,
a chorus (‘How lovely is Thy dwelling-place, O Lord of Hosts’), is
slower than its predecessor and is charmingly melodious. No. 5, ‘Ye
now are sorrowful, grieve not,’ for soprano solo and chorus, has
rich passages of melody and discloses the composer’s great ability
in song-writing. No. 6, for baritone solo and chorus (‘Here on earth
we have no continuing place, we seek now a heavenly one’), pictures
the resurrection of the dead in intricate fugal passages of wonderful
power. No. 7, the finale (‘Blessed are the faithful who in the Lord are
sleeping’), in contrast with the tumultuous strains which precede it,
offers a calm and sweetly serious close to this remarkable work.

Dvořák’s ‘St. Ludmila’ is sometimes classed as a sacred cantata, but
its breadth rather suggests its inclusion among oratorios. The poem,
by Jaroslav Vrchlicky, is based on a Bohemian legend and sets forth
the worship of the heathen goddess Bába, the destruction of her statue
by the Christian teacher Ivan, the conversion of Princess Ludmila and
her future husband, Prince Bořivoy, and their baptism, which ushered
in the Christianization of Bohemia. The work was written for the Leeds
Festival, where it had its first presentation in 1886. While there
are many suggestions of national folk-song and national idiom in the
score, Dvořák, in writing the music, doubtless had in mind English
conditions, demands and tastes, in that he gave special prominence to
the choral parts and strove to develop charming and original melodies
with strongly rhythmic features.

The composition is in three parts. The first scene is laid in the
courtyard of Melnik Castle, where the people are gathered about the
statue of the goddess Bába in worship of Bohemian Pagan deities. An
introductory orchestral number depicts the dawn, following which are
several solos and choruses of women and priests, in which the dawning
day and the laughing springtime are joyously proclaimed. Ludmila enters
with an invocation to the goddess for blessings on the fatherland,
closing with the charming passage, ‘I long with childlike longing,’
to which the chorus adds, ‘The gods are ever near.’ With the approach
of Ivan, the serene music changes abruptly, as he implores them in
a strong, declamatory aria, ‘Give ear, ye people, one is our God.’
After the destruction of the heathen statue by Ivan amid scenes of
great confusion, Ludmila proclaims her faith in the doctrine which
Ivan preaches, and the part closes with choruses of lament and alarm
by the people. The second part, after an orchestral prelude, discloses
Svatava aiding her mistress in finding Ivan, whom they finally discover
emerging from a cave. After Ludmila and Svatava have both declared
their faith in Christianity, the music suddenly changes. The religious
mood gives way to the merry sound of the hunt and the hunters’ chorus.
Prince Bořivoy enters and relates how Ivan miraculously healed the
wounded hind. As he sees Ludmila, he declares his love for her. Ivan
expounds his doctrine to the prince and the hunters, and Bořivoy is
also converted. When he again pours out his love for Ludmila, she
at first replies, ‘To thee the pleasure of the chase belongs,’ but
Ivan urges her to bestow her hand upon the prince, and a quartet and
a chorus close the part. The scene of the third part is laid in the
cathedral of Velehrad. The royal lovers are baptized, and the noble
chorus, ‘Mighty Lord, to us be gracious,’ creates an exalted religious
atmosphere. At the conclusion of the ceremony the orchestra enters with
trumpet fanfares, followed by solos by Svatava and Ivan with choral
responses; and a powerful contrapuntal chorus, a final ‘Alleluia,’
impressively closes the work.


                                   II

Though Franck’s list of works is small compared with those of some
of his fellow-composers, he touched every field of serious music and
left the impress of his powerful individuality. _Les Béatitudes_ (‘The
Beatitudes’) is probably his finest work, though, after hearing his
noble D minor symphony or his striking piano quintet, one is reluctant
to pass over either of these superb creations in naming Franck’s
masterpiece. He wrote five large choral works, though, in common with
other French composers, he seldom used the title ‘oratorio.’ The first
one in oratorio-form was ‘Ruth and Boaz,’ written in 1845, which he
designates _Églogue biblique_ and in which he is evidently struggling
for new harmonic effects, although he had not yet found the idiom
which characterizes his later works. He follows the form of French
oratorios of this period, which were usually short, possibly because
this temperamental nation was not inclined to hear a long religious
work which, without any dramatic action, would occupy a whole evening.
The naïveté and simplicity of this youthful work won much admiration
when it was first performed at the Conservatoire at Paris on January
4, 1846. The picturesque orchestral prelude, the chorus of Moabites,
Ruth’s beautiful aria in the first part, the duet between Ruth and
Boaz in the second part, the charming and original chorus of reapers
with its suggestion of an old French folk-song--these are some of
the beauties of this simple sacred idyl. _La Rédemption_, which the
composer calls a _poème symphonique_, was finished Nov. 7, 1872, and
was first performed at the Concert National on April 10, 1873, under
the direction of Colonne. Franck’s mysticism becomes more apparent in
this work. While it is by no means on a level with the ‘Beatitudes,’
such passages as the angels’ choruses, the arias of the archangel, the
music expressing the joy of mankind at Christ’s advent, reveal the
tender grace and purity of Franck’s inspirations. _Rébecca_, a Biblical
idyl (_scène biblique_) on a poem by Paul Collin, dates from 1881,
and is written in the simple style of his earlier ‘Ruth.’ An Oriental
atmosphere pervades the work and gives color to its harmonies and
modulations, as witness the opening chorus and the picturesque chorus
of camel-drivers. In _Psyché_ Franck reaches his mature style. Written
in 1887-88 and first performed at the _Concerts du Châtelet_ under
Colonne, Feb. 23, 1890, this quite lengthy work possesses many passages
of ravishing beauty and elusive charm--such as the _Sommeil de Psyché_,
a prelude ‘full of mysterious language,’ and the music accompanying the
scene where Psyché reposes among the flowers.

‘The Beatitudes’ is a work in which Franck’s best and most
characteristic qualities of thought and workmanship are displayed in
a wonderful degree. Of a deeply religious nature, profoundly earnest
and sincere, working wholly for himself and his art-ideals, and wholly
oblivious of the indifference with which an unappreciative generation
received his great works, Franck translated into music his own inner
self to a degree that has been vouchsafed to very few composers. The
grandeur and religious significance of the underlying thoughts of this
great theme struck deep into his gentle, tender nature and he was
able to sustain a noble mode of musical speech from beginning to end
without flagging. Three characteristics stand out prominently in his
music--(1) a mysticism that throws a glamour of delicious vagueness of
outline over all his modes of artistic expression, a mysticism that
roots itself deep in the hidden things of the religious faith he so
consistently held, (2) a complex and intricate polyphony that rivals
Bach’s in its nobility and expressiveness, and (3) an astounding wealth
of novel harmonies that elude analysis and enthrall the listener by
their very elusiveness.

‘The Beatitudes’ was begun in 1870 and was published ten years
later. Parts of it were performed in Paris from time to time, but the
entire work did not come to public hearing until one year after the
composer’s death--at Dijon in 1891 at the Commemoration Festival of
St. Bernard. Its first Paris performance was March 19, 1893, under
Colonne, and France at last awoke to the recognition of the greatness
of her departed adopted son. The text is a poetic paraphrase of the
Sermon on the Mount, made by Madame Colomb. It is not altogether
adequate and is interspersed with philosophical episodes that at times
suggest spiritualism and other irrelevant matter. Curiously enough it
was frequently these extraneous parts that touched Franck most deeply
and occasioned some of his finest outbursts of religious rapture. The
strongest musical parts of the oratorio are the fine choral writing and
the skillful handling of the orchestra in exploiting and illustrating
the poetic and dramatic meaning of the text. In the orchestral numbers
his most brilliant style is revealed. His treatment of the various
characters--Satan, the Voice of Christ, Mater Dolorosa--is often
very dramatic, almost theatrical: other characters are the Angel of
Forgiveness and the Angel of Death. The central theme which runs
through the whole work is the perpetual conflict between good and evil,
and ‘terrestrial’ and ‘celestial’ choruses are frequently used to
illustrate these opposing forces.

The musical numbers of the oratorio naturally group themselves into
eight parts (preceded by a prologue) corresponding to the Gospel
narrative. The Christ motive is introduced in the music of the prologue
(for tenor and celestial chorus) which establishes at once the mood of
the whole work. Of exquisite beauty and tenderness are the passages
assigned to the voice of Christ (baritone) in the first part (‘Blessed
he, who, from earth’s dreams awaking’) and in the third and fourth
parts. The celestial choruses are notable throughout for their tender
note of consolation and admonition, especially in the fifth part.
Franck’s treatment of the whole of the third beatitude--‘Blessed
are they that mourn’--is forceful and impressive, beginning with
the chorus, ‘Grief over all creatures,’ the strongest in the whole
oratorio. The most dramatic moments of the work are in the seventh
part--‘Blessed are the peacemakers.’ His Satan, as the arch-inspirer
of all strife and discord, appears as a figure of Miltonic grandeur.
Opposed to his bitter denunciations and taunts are the gentle strains
of the Christ voice (‘Blessed are they who, with voice beseeching’),
which touch even Satan to a penitent mood (‘Ah! that voice’) and lead
into one of the most beautiful portions of the entire work, the famous
quintet of peacemakers (‘Evil cannot stay’). The eighth part--‘Blessed
are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake’--rivals the
seventh in dramatic intensity and force. Satan, ‘not yet defeated,’
again hurls defiance at Christ. He is rebuked by the chorus of the just
and finally gives way before the voice of the _Mater Dolorosa_ who
sings a sublime song (‘Stricken with sorrow’). Satan recognizes his
doom, the voice of Christ is heard for the last time, and the celestial
chorus responds with a triumphant Hosanna which brings the work to a
close.


                                   III

_Franciscus_ was the first work to bring Edgar Tinel (1854-1912)
international fame. While preceding works had brought him success, the
sound musicianship of this oratorio, its beauties of contrapuntal and
orchestral structure, won for its composer a wide recognition beyond
the boundaries of his native Belgium as one of the ablest contemporary
choral writers. He has written much church-music and has evinced strong
interest in the reform of Gregorian chant and ecclesiastical music
which has stirred the Roman Church since the middle of the nineteenth
century. It was while he was director of the Institute for Sacred Music
at Malines that he composed ‘Franciscus,’ generally regarded as his
masterpiece, and it was produced there, August 22, 1888. It was one of
the works performed at the Lower Rhine Festival in 1894 and was heard
for the first time in England in 1895 at the Cardiff Festival. Before
either German or English performance, however, it had been brought out
in New York City in 1893. The librettist, Lodemijk de Koninck, has
woven into the lines of his poem all the salient features of the life
of St. Francis of Assisi (1181-1226), ‘the adorable mediæval mystic who
invited all beings and all things to divine love,’ and who became the
founder of the great mendicant order of Franciscan monks.

The oratorio is divided into three parts. The first--‘Francis’
Worldly Life and his Renunciation’--opens with a sonorous prelude
developed from a theme of stately character and discloses a brilliant
scene of court life at Assisi, where knights and ladies hold high feast
amid the beauty of an Italian night. There is dancing and merriment and
the gay Francis is called upon for a song. He astonishes the guests by
singing the Ballad of Poverty, which, with its quaint unaccompanied
choral refrains, forms one of the most delightful musical passages
in the work. On his way home after the festivities he hears a voice
speaking his name. Later in his chamber he hears the same heavenly
voice and sees a vision of a magnificent hall, hung with cross-bedecked
armor, wherein a noble maiden, Poverty, walks. The heavenly voice
tells him that Poverty shall be his bride, his weapon the cross, and
his mission to convert the world. The second part pictures ‘Francis’
Monastic Life’ and teems with the fantastic episodes with which
mediæval legends allegorically associated the lives of the church
fathers and saints. It introduces the angels of Hope, of Love, and
of Peace, against whom the spirits of War and of Hate wage battle.
Francis, worn with fasting, bare-foot and clad in a monk’s gray garb,
comes from his cell. His former companions no longer know him, and
jeer him as he tells them of his lovely bride, Poverty. He sings the
beautiful, pathetic Song of Poverty, _Erbarm’ Dich meiner Noth, O
Herr!_ (‘Have mercy on my need, O Lord!’). Taught by him they learn
the meaning of brotherly love and peace reigns on earth. Francis’
Hymn to the Sun with choral accompaniment, the deeply expressive Song
of Love and the closing chorus of celestial voices, are among the
rarest gems of the work. The third part deals with ‘Francis’ Death and
Glorification,’ the finest numbers of which are the angelus chorus
which he hears at evening as he lies on his death-bed; the double
chorus in the church scene (_Lux æterna_), in which the solemn tones
of the organ join with contrasting celestial and earthly choirs; the
imposingly heroic funeral march; and the final scene, in which the
composer masses chorus on chorus with tremendous cumulative effect,
closing with the words, ‘Triumph! Glory be to God!’

Pierre Léopold Benoît (b. 1834), a consistent propagandist for Flemish
music, has been foremost in the movement to establish a national school
of music distinct from French and German schools. In aiding this
movement he has himself been a prolific writer in many fields. His
choral works include the six oratorios--_Lucifer_ (1866), _Die Schelde_
(1869), _Prometheus_ (1868), _Der Krieg_ (1880), _Der Rhein_ (1889)
and the ‘Children’s Oratorio’--a choral symphony (‘The Mowers’), and
in addition many cantatas, among them one for children’s voices (‘Into
the World’), of great beauty and practical value for school purposes.
In style Benoît is influenced sometimes by Franck and sometimes by
Schumann and the later Germans; there are few traces of a strongly
individual style.

_Lucifer_, Benoît’s most important composition and one of the best
of its period, was written in 1865 and first performed in Brussels in
1866. The text is by Emanuel Hiel. It shows distinctly the presence of
a progressive spirit in Belgium and France, though the former country
welcomed the oratorio more heartily than did the latter. The subject is
the thrice-attempted effort of Satan to gain victory over a divinely
protected humanity; but the text is so allegorical and so unskillfully
put together that it no longer takes hold of the listener’s interest.
Portions of the work, especially the agitated passages, are
characterized by unrestrained emotional expression. The solos are
generally pleasing and lyric, though not deep--the whole affording
contrasts which hold the attention. The orchestration is brilliant for
the period and the choral-writing skillful. The employment of leading
motives, to which the composer himself called attention (though as a
whole they are not very characteristic), stamped the work as being very
modern in style at the time it was written. It no doubt had a large
influence on Benoît’s contemporaries, especially on Franck, whose later
oratorios, though constructed with vastly greater skill and genius,
show many similar traits.


                                   IV

The ‘Christmas Oratorio’ (_Noël_) of Charles Camille Saint-Saëns (born
1835), although constructed in the oratorio style, scarcely exceeds the
dimensions of a cantata. It calls for five soloists, and is scored for
strings, organ and, in one number, the harp. While the text is based on
the story of the Nativity, only two numbers mention the birth of Jesus
and these at the beginning of the work, the remainder being liturgical
matter, such as the Magnificat, Benedictus and Gloria Patri, and the
triumph of the Church--all appropriate to the Christmas season. A
quaint and melodious pastoral introduction of some length leads into a
recitative, ‘And there were shepherds,’ after which the announcement to
the shepherds is apportioned among three solo voices, closing with the
chorus, ‘Glory to God in the highest.’ The most dramatic chorus in the
work is ‘Wherefore are the nations raging,’ to which the accompaniment
in itself furnishes an atmosphere of wild unrest. A portion of the
opening pastoral prelude is heard again in the next to the last number,
before the quintet takes up the words, ‘Arise now, Daughter of Zion,’
which, especially in the ‘Alleluia’ portion, contains some beautiful
writing for the solo voices. A final chorus, written in majestic hymn
style and also closing with an oft-repeated ‘Alleluia,’ concludes the
oratorio. The composition, though short, is exceedingly beautiful, not
only in its graceful and melodious voice-parts, but in its delicate and
striking accompaniments.

‘The Deluge,’ a biblical scene which Saint-Saëns wrote in 1875, has
steadily maintained its place in the choral repertoire. It is an
effective, artistic work, nobly conceived and true to the scriptural
narrative. The orchestra takes a leading part in the vivid portrayal
of the commotions of Nature--the approaching rain, gradually bursting
into torrents, the rising of the flood, the buoyancy of the ark as
it ‘floated upon the mournful ocean,’ the darkness, and finally the
receding waters. The narration of the most important events is given to
the chorus, while the minor incidents are delegated to the soloists,
largely in recitative. Especially effective is the passage at the
beginning of the second part in which it is related that ‘the sun
disappeared’ and ‘the rains from heaven poured,’ where the choral parts
have little melodic movement, dwelling much on one tone, as though awed
at the magnitude of the calamity, while the storm-tossed accompaniment
vividly depicts the fierce force of the elements. One of the finest
numbers is the fugal chorus, ‘This race will I blot out forever.’
In striking contrast to this is the delicately scored scene of the
departing and the returning dove and the rainbow-music. The work closes
with a massive contrapuntal chorus, in which the solo quartet joins,
‘Now increase, grow and multiply.’

Jules Massenet (1842-1912) has made several excursions into the field
of choral music, but has never been quite able to throw off his
theatrical associations. His oratorios are _Ève_ (1875), _La Vierge_
(‘The Holy Virgin’), a sacred legend in four scenes (1880), and _La
terre promise_ (‘The Promised Land,’ 1900). In addition is a four-act
sacred drama, _Marie Madeleine_ (1873), which is utterly theatrical.

_Ève_, a mystery which Massenet wrote in 1875, though not deeply
conceived, is full of beautiful color. It is in three parts, the first
being ‘The Birth of Woman.’ At the beginning of the part the composer
has written in the score: ‘Serene Nature round Man in his sleep. A pure
light is spread over Creation, and from the new-born Earth light vapors
illumined by the Sun rise on the horizon. A soft breeze undulates the
flowers of the field and the waves of the sea.’ Part second, ‘Eve in
Solitude’ (The Temptation), bears this superscription: ‘Starlit sky.
A balmy night. In the forest solitude Eve walks in deep thought far
from Adam. Trembling and enchanted she listens to the voices of the
night which murmur around her.’ In these surroundings she sings an
aria of narcotic sweetness, _O nuit, douce nuit_ (‘O night! gentle
night’), which discloses how receptive she is to the alluring voices
of sweet temptation. The third part is ‘The Fall.’ It is impossible
to think of Massenet’s character of Eve with any degree of sympathy,
as she is depicted simply as an easily tempted Parisienne, with all
the characteristics of a frail and sentimental woman. According to the
text, she plucks from the tree, not the fruit of the knowledge of good
and evil, but of love, which is here styled ‘the forbidden fruit.’ The
eating of the fruit brings on a rapturous love-duet (_con passione_) in
true theatrical style, and the happy pair are banished from Eden--for
loving!

_Marie Madeleine_, a work which Massenet calls a sacred drama, was
written in 1873 and performed at the Odéon Théâtre, Paris, the same
year. It consists of three acts, (1) Magdalen at the Fountain,
(2) Jesus before Mary Magdalene, (3) Golgotha, including the
scenes, ‘Magdalen at the Cross,’ ‘At the Tomb of Jesus,’ and the
‘Resurrection.’ The persons represented are Mary Magdalene, Martha,
Jesus and Judas, together with choruses of disciples, Pharisees,
scribes, publicans, soldiers, servants, holy women and people.

One who is in sympathy with the inspiring Bible narrative, so
beautifully treated in dramatic literature, finds it difficult to
become reconciled to the extraneous, irrelevant material brought into
the text and elaborated in the music--for example, the introduction of
Judas as a lover of the Magdalen and a chorus of women who taunt her.
The music abounds in dramatic, Oriental coloring and rich melody. The
two tableaux in the third act are very realistic, the first presenting
the ‘Crucifixion,’ and the second, the ‘Ascension.’

Théodore Dubois (b. 1837) has worked much in the field of choral music.
Besides many pieces of church-music and five cantatas, he has written
three oratorios--‘The Seven Last Words of Christ’ (1867), a short and
easy setting of the familiar Passion-scene; ‘Paradise Lost,’ which is
given some space below; and _Nôtre-Dame de la Mer_ (1897).

‘Paradise Lost’ (_Le Paradis perdu_), for the composition of which
Dubois won the City of Paris prize in 1878, is a dramatic oratorio in
four parts. The text, by Édouard Bau, is based on Milton’s great poem.
It is a fresh, spontaneous work, and abounds in striking tone-pictures,
the most unique of which is the fierce struggle in Part I between the
forces of Heaven and of Hell (the faithful and the rebellious angels).
The superscription of the orchestral introduction is a commentary on
the sombre nature of the music: ‘Before the Creation of our Earth,
while Chaos yet reigned ... the host of angels, called from the ends
of Heaven, assembled before the throne of the Almighty.’ This prelude
is at once followed by the chorus of seraphim and the recitative of
the Archangel. The first two parts, ‘The Revolt’ and ‘Hell,’ portray
the contest of Satan and his angels against the archangels and the
faithful, and the condition of the lost angels in their new abode of
torment. The third part, ‘Paradise,’ includes the temptation and the
fall of man, and the fourth, ‘The Judgment,’ tells of the upheaval
on the earth, the despair of Adam and Eve and their expulsion from
Paradise. Among the best portions of the work might be named the
opening of Part III, a beautiful picture of a morning in Paradise
(ushered in by the orchestra and taken up chorally by the spirits who
guard Eden); the simple, devout prayer of Adam and Eve (in duet form);
and a grandiose concerted piece, ‘O God, avenging and righteous,’ which
is sung by Adam, Eve, the Archangel and the chorus of seraphim. The
characterization of Satan is particularly strong throughout the work.
Interesting is the French viewpoint, which depicts the chivalrous Adam
unwilling to allow the blame for the first sin to rest upon his spouse:
‘Pardon the woman.... I ‘twas who led her astray!’ he pleads before the
Archangel who passes sentence upon the guilty pair. Many pages of the
music approach closely to the boundaries of sentimentality.


                                   V

In the field of English oratorio we find the same contributing
composers as in the cantata-form of this period and the same
progressive spirit and virile qualities that sought out and found
individual forms of expression (see Chapter VI). The principal oratorio
writers of the period in the United Kingdom are Mackenzie, Parry,
Stanford, Sullivan and Cowen.

‘The Rose of Sharon,’ a dramatic oratorio by Alexander Campbell
Mackenzie (born 1847), was first produced at the Norwich Festival,
Oct. 16. 1884, the composer conducting. Mackenzie speaks of the
production of this work as the ‘turning point’ of his career. The
first performance met with enormous success and it was received in
all parts of the United Kingdom with extraordinary marks of approval.
The text by Joseph Bennett is based upon the Song of Solomon and the
persons represented are the Sulamite (the Rose of Sharon), a woman (the
narrator), the Beloved and Solomon, the chorus being variously made
up of princes, nobles, officers of the court, elders, villagers and
soldiers. It is in four parts in addition to a prologue which indicates
the parabolic character of the drama and an epilogue which points
its moral. The four parts are: (1) Separation, (2) Temptation, (3)
Victory, and (4) Reunion. The principal motive of the work is revealed
in the words which the Sulamite sings--‘Love is strong as death and
unconquerable as the grave.’

The story relates how the Sulamite is seen by Solomon, who at once
becomes enamored of her and tears her away from her Beloved, placing
her in his own harem, where, although surrounded by every luxury which
royal favor can devise, she still remains loyal to her Beloved. After
every effort on the part of Solomon, the nobles and the women of the
court, the Sulamite continues to sing ‘My Beloved pastures his flock
among the lilies’ and she is finally restored to him, after which they
return together to the vineyards. The score is heavily loaded with
beautiful passages--lyric, pastoral and dramatic--for choral and solo
parts alike. The composer uses with great skill and effectiveness four
motives--the Love motive associated with the above quotation and a
motive associated with each of the three principal characters. Some
of the loveliest parts of the work are the long dialogue between the
Sulamite and her Beloved in the first part; the simple ‘The Lord is my
Shepherd’ which the Sulamite, alone in Solomon’s palace, devoutly sings
as she longingly remembers the scenes from which she has been parted;
the stately chorus, ‘Make a joyful noise unto the Lord,’ accompanying
the procession of the ark; the chorus of shepherds and vine-dressers;
the jubilant chorus, ‘Sing, O Heavens! be joyful, O Earth!’ as the
villagers greet the returning lovers, which chorus leads into a
rapturous duet that prepares the way for a chorale-like finale in which
all join.

‘Bethlehem’ is a mystery in two acts, Mackenzie here using this term in
preference to ‘oratorio’ as better indicating the nature of the work,
which preserves a quaintness of narrative style throughout. The text is
by Joseph Bennett and the work made its appearance in 1894. The events
of the first act or part take place in the fields of Bethlehem, where
angels appear to the shepherds, comforting them with good news and
singing an anthem of praise to God, returning to heaven and leaving the
shepherds astounded at the vision. They talk together of the wondrous
sight and, as dawn appears, the people of Bethlehem gather together
and they all rejoice and sing a carol. The scene of the second act is
Bethlehem. A host of ‘arméd cherubim’ guard the new-born King as the
blessed mother sweetly sings to her babe. But the shepherds with some
people of Bethlehem seek the Holy Babe through the city to worship Him;
likewise certain kings from the East, whose salutations the blessed
mother answers. As the kings marvel and offer gifts, all join in humble
and devout adoration of the Holy Child. The quaintness of style is
preserved in the music also, yet without sacrificing its dignity.

‘Judith’ (‘The Regeneration of Manasseh’) was the first oratorio
of Parry (b. 1848), although he had already written several of the
long series of choral works that mark him as one of England’s great
composers. It was produced at the Birmingham Festival of 1888. The
persons in the action are Manasseh, king of Israel; Meshullemeth, his
wife; his children; Judith; a High Priest of Moloch; and a messenger of
Holofernes. The text, by the composer, is in two acts. In the first,
the priests of Moloch demand the children of Manasseh for sacrifice,
but as they are about to be offered up, Judith appears and endeavors
to save them. She is herself saved from the wrath of the people only
by the coming of the Assyrians, who lay Jerusalem in ruins and carry
off Manasseh a prisoner to Babylon. But the captive king repents of
his sins against God and is permitted to return to Jerusalem. In the
second act, while the Jews are lamenting over the desolation of their
city, a messenger from the Assyrian general, Holofernes, arrives and
demands new terms of submission and tribute. Here Judith comes to the
rescue; she exhorts the Jews to have confidence in God’s help, makes
her way to the Assyrian camp and to the tent of Holofernes and strikes
him down with her own hand. The Israelites, fired by her heroism,
fall upon their bewildered enemies and scatter them, returning to
Jerusalem and praising the God of Israel. The Moloch choruses are very
characteristic, some of them fierce and barbaric, while the march
of the Assyrian host at the close of the first part is stately and
majestic. One of the loveliest parts is the scene between Meshullemeth
and her children as she sings, in answer to their questions, the
simple, pathetic ballad of Israel’s ancient escape from Egypt and the
Red Sea.

‘Job’ was written for the Gloucester Festival of 1892 and is much
shorter than the preceding oratorio. Parry’s treatment of the familiar
story of the patriarch’s misfortunes is at once individual and poetic.
He groups the events into four scenes, opening the first one with a
noble, serene theme in the orchestra, associated with the ‘perfect
and upright man that feared God,’ and appropriately using it again to
bring the whole work to a close. The narrator is given an important
rôle, but the climax of the work is Job’s lengthy lament for his losses
in the third scene. The music is noble and of sustained dignity and
impressiveness.

‘King Saul,’ Parry’s third oratorio, was performed at the Birmingham
Festival of 1894. It relates, in a series of ten scenes grouped into
four acts, the main events in the picturesque life of this king
of Israel. The prophet Samuel and the youthful shepherd David are
prominent persons in the narrative, while the introduction of the Witch
of Endor scene gives opportunity for music of vividly descriptive
character. Among many fine lyric passages are the love-duet of David
and Michal and David’s devotional psalm after the battle with the
Philistines (‘Let us lift up our eyes unto the mountains, whence cometh
our help’). The choral-writing throughout is marked by unerring skill
and noteworthy effectiveness.


                                   VI

‘The Three Holy Children,’ by Sir Charles Villiers Stanford (born
1852), was written for the Birmingham Festival of 1885. The words
are taken in the main from those parts of the Old Testament and
the Apocrypha that deal with the captivity of the Jews under
Nebuchadnezzar, king of Babylon. This king had erected a great image of
Bel in the valley of Dura and commanded that all his subjects worship
it under penalty of death by fire. A company of Jewish women, by the
waters of Babylon, are mourning over their captivity, when they are
taunted by some Assyrian soldiers on their way to worship Bel and
they reply with songs of their beloved country and with imprecations
on their enemies. Ananias, Azarias and Misael, three prominent Jews,
denounce the worship of idols and refuse to bow down to Bel. They are
dragged before the king and cast into the fiery furnace; but the flames
do them no harm and the amazed king releases them and joins with the
multitude in praising God ‘that hath sent His angel and delivered His
servants that trusted in Him.’

‘Eden,’ a dramatic oratorio, is a strong setting of Robert Bridges’
poem and found first presentation, as have several others of Stanford’s
choral works, at the Birmingham Festival, this one in 1891. The poem
is an elaborate epic of large dimensions, involving in its action many
characters (Adam, Eve, Satan, Michael, Angels of Earth, Sun, Music,
Poetry, etc.) and for its choral elements, calling upon angels, devils,
furies, all-seers, etc. With this complicated dramatic machinery
Stanford has built an imposing musical structure--grand, terrible in
places, of ravishing beauty in others--always skillfully fashioned
and of compelling appeal, especially in the choral parts. The poem is
divided into three acts: I, Heaven; II, Hell; III, Earth (Part 1, The
Fall; Part 2, Adam’s Vision). In the first and third acts the composer
drops into the old ecclesiastical modal style for pages at a time with
beautiful effect. Indeed, he takes for some of his most important
thematic material two phrases of the plain-song melody _Sanctorum
meritis_ (from the _Sarum Missal_) and weaves them into choral passages
with the skill of a sixteenth-century church-contrapuntist. Especially
beautiful, among such portions, are the opening six-part chorus of all
angels (‘God of might! God of love!’) and a five-part _a cappella_
chorus (‘Flames of pure love are we’)--the latter in the pure style of
a _Madrigale spirituale_.

‘The Prodigal Son,’ which is the first of Sullivan’s oratorios,
received its first performance at the Worcester Festival, Sept.
3, 1869, for which occasion it was written. The text, compiled by
the composer, is based on the well-known parable, the shortness of
which, however, has necessitated the introduction of other Scriptural
material; so that only six of the eighteen numbers deal directly
with the narrative, while the other twelve reflect on the lessons it
teaches. In a preface to the work, Sullivan explains his conception of
the Prodigal as ‘a buoyant, restless youth, tired of the monotony of
home, and anxious to see what lay beyond the confines of his father’s
farm, going away in the confidence of his own simplicity and ardor, and
led gradually away into the follies and sins which at the outset would
have been distasteful to him.’

The musical treatment is melodious, opening, after a short orchestral
prelude, with the joyous, though reflective, chorus, ‘There is joy in
the presence of the angels of God,’ preceded by a brief soprano solo.
The parable then opens with tenor recitative and aria, ‘A certain man
had two sons,’ and armed with the good counsel of his father, the
prodigal son starts away. He is heard from in the chorus of revelry,
‘Let us eat and drink; to-morrow we die.’ The admonishing contralto
solo, ‘Love not the world,’ is well known, having found its way to
concert programs. After an orchestral prelude the soprano declaims in
recitative the Prodigal’s experience as a swineherd and his struggle
with famine, closing with the aria, ‘O that thou had’st harkened.’
The repentance of the Prodigal is beautifully expressed in the tenor
aria, ‘How many hired servants of my father.’ A chorus, ‘The sacrifices
of God,’ is followed by the Prodigal’s return--the joy of the father
being expressed in the bass aria, ‘For this my son was dead.’ One of
the finest choruses in the work, ‘O that men would praise the Lord,’
is soon followed by the unaccompanied quartet, ‘The Lord is nigh,’ and
the final chorus, ‘Thou, O Lord, art our Father,’ closes with a joyous
‘Hallelujah.’

‘The Light of the World,’ the second of Sullivan’s oratorios and much
longer than the first, was written for the Birmingham Festival and
performed there on August 27, 1873. The composer’s plan is set forth in
the preface as follows: ‘The work has been laid out in scenes dealing
respectively, in the first part, with the nativity, preaching, healing
and prophesying of our Lord, ending with the triumphal entry into
Jerusalem; and in the second part with the utterances which, containing
the avowal of himself as the Son of Man, excited to the utmost the
wrath of his enemies, and led the rulers to conspire for his betrayal
and death; the solemn recital by the chorus of his sufferings, and
the belief in his final reward; the grief of Mary Magdalene at the
sepulchre; and the consolation and triumph of the disciples at the
resurrection of their Lord and Master.’

The first part is divided into four scenes--‘Bethlehem,’ ‘Nazareth,’
‘Lazarus’ and ‘The Way to Jerusalem.’ The second part contains
two--‘Jerusalem’ and ‘At the Sepulchre.’ The first scene, dealing
with the narrative of the shepherds, the announcement by the angel
and the Magnificat sung by Mary, is introduced by a pastoral prelude
which establishes the atmosphere of the scene. In the second scene,
‘Nazareth,’ are two very dramatic choruses, ‘Whence hath this man
his wisdom?’ and ‘Is not this Jesus?’ It contains also an effective
quintet, ‘Doubtless thou art our Father,’ and a well-written chorus,
‘He maketh the sun to rise,’ which is one of the finest in the
work. The ‘Lazarus’ scene is darksome throughout, while ‘The Way to
Jerusalem,’ strongly contrasted with the preceding, is festive in
character and contains a beautiful three-part chorus for children’s
voices, ‘Hosanna to the Son of David.’ The first part closes with a
massive ‘Hosanna’ chorus combined with a trio for female solo voices.
The anger and dissension caused by the Lord’s sojourn in Jerusalem are
dramatically depicted in an introduction which opens the second part
and which is followed by an expressive baritone solo, ‘When the Son of
Man shall come.’ This scene also contains a charming chorus for women’s
voices, ‘The hour is come,’ and the expressive farewell of Jesus,
‘Daughters of Jerusalem.’ The crucifixion is not brought into the work
except by indirect mention in a chorus and the work closes with the
scene ‘At the Sepulchre,’ in which an angel tells the waiting Mary
Magdalene that Christ has risen. This leads, after a tenor solo, to the
final fugal chorus, ‘Him hath God exalted.’

Frederic Hymen Cowen (born 1852) wrote two oratorios that fall within
this period--‘The Deluge’ (1878), and ‘Ruth,’ written for the Worcester
Festival of 1887. The incidents of the familiar story of ‘Ruth’
(here called a dramatic oratorio) are grouped into two parts by the
librettist, Joseph Bennett, and the composer has given throughout a
pleasing, though not deep, musical setting to the text.


                                   VII

Oratorio by native American composers is a very young product and
practically dates from the composition of Paine’s ‘St. Peter,’ though
several works with the title of oratorio had been written before this.
Paine, however, was the first American to approach his task with an
adequate equipment of ripe musicianship and knowledge of technical
means of expression. As yet he has been followed in this field by
comparatively few American composers, though many worthy works in
cantata-form have been written.

‘St. Peter,’ by John K. Paine (1839-1906), received its first
performance in Portland, Maine, in June, 1873, under the direction of
the composer. Its second performance took place in Boston on May 9,
1874, by the Handel and Haydn Society. The main theme of the oratorio
is the establishment of Christianity, as illustrated by the four
main events in the life of St. Peter. It consists of two parts--(1)
The Divine Call, followed by the denial of Peter and his repentance,
and (2) The Ascension and Pentecost. The work abounds in strong,
well-written choruses and beautiful arias, which, where the text
demands it, become at times touching (as, for example, in the aria,
‘Let not your hearts be troubled’) and at times dramatic, as is the
scene of the emphatic denials of Peter and the accusations of the
people. A noble chorus, ‘Awake, thou that sleepest,’ closes the first
part. Probably the most beautiful choral number, however, is in the
second part, ‘The voice of the Lord,’ which follows the description of
the Pentecostal miracle; though it is not massive, as is the majestic
closing chorus, ‘Great and marvellous are Thy works.’

Horatio Parker’s _Hora Novissima_, the most ambitious and finely
conceived choral work by an American, was written in 1892, while the
composer was associated with Dvořák as teacher of counterpoint in the
National Conservatory of Music in New York, and received its first
hearing on May 3, 1893, when it was given by the Church Choral Society
of New York under the direction of the composer. Soon after it was
given in Boston and at the Festivals of Cincinnati and Worcester,
Mass. In 1899 it was the chief novelty at the Three Choirs Festival
in Worcester, England (also conducted by the composer), and bears the
distinction of being the first work of an American to be performed
under these historic auspices.

The subject of the oratorio deals with the New Jerusalem and the
text, selected from a Latin poem of the twelfth century by the monk
Bernard de Morlaix entitled ‘The Rhythm of the Celestial Country,’ has
been most skillfully translated by the composer’s mother, Isabella G.
Parker. The oratorio consists of eleven numbers grouped into two parts,
and the larger portion of it is choral, there being only four numbers
for solo voices. The opening chorus, following the instrumental prelude
in which the principal motives are set forth, begins with the words,
_Hora novissima_ (‘Cometh earth’s latest hour’), which at once reveals
the composer’s dignified style of choral writing. The most effective
portion of the first part, however, is the fugal chorus. _Pars mea,
rex meus_ (‘Most Mighty, most Holy’), which is built up on massive
lines. Another very broad and truly splendid number is the joyous
double chorus, _Stant Syon atria_ (‘There stand those walls on high’),
which is in the second part. An _a cappella_ chorus, _Urbs Syon unica_
(‘City of high renown’), is finely developed in strict fugal form and
leads over into the final number--broad and again fugally treated--for
quartet and chorus, _Urbs Syon inclyta_ (‘Thou city great and high’),
which forms a majestic close to a noble work, conceived on broad lines
and constructed with conspicuous skill and scholarship. Among the solo
portions the lovely soprano aria, _O bone patria_ (‘O country, bright
and fair’), is especially distinguished by graceful, dignified and
appealing melody.

‘The Legend of St. Christopher,’ a dramatic oratorio on a theme that
has often been chosen by composers, was written soon after the _Hora
Novissima_ and was published in 1898. In September, 1902, Parker
conducted the third part of this oratorio at the Worcester (England)
Festival and in October of the same year the entire work was performed
at the Bristol Festival. The text, as in the case of many of the
composer’s choral works, is by his mother, Isabella G. Parker. It
presents in attractive poetic form the main features of the familiar
legend and requires the following characters: Offerus, the King, the
Queen, the Hermit and Satan. The chorus frequently assumes the burden
of narration. The legend relates how the giant Offerus sought the
mightiest earthly monarch, that he might serve him with his great
strength and stature. But he finds that the king to whom he attaches
himself is not the mightiest on earth, for he fears Satan, whom the
giant straightway seeks to serve. Satan in turn trembles as they pass
a cross by the roadside before which women are singing a hymn to the
Lord of Heaven. Offerus finally finds a hermit who serves this Lord of
Heaven and who teaches him the meaning of service. During a furious
storm at night a child with a quiet light upon its head piteously begs
to be carried across the raging stream. Offerus heeds the cry and
carries the child in his strong arms, only to find, when he reaches
the further shore, that it was the Christ-child he bore; the hermit
exclaims ‘Christopher be now thy name, thine henceforth by rightful
claim.’

The musical handling of the theme shows the composer’s marked skill
and preference for choral-writing. The choral portions of the work
are the strongest, though there are not wanting lyric solo-passages
of great beauty, as witness the melodies assigned to the Queen and
the Hermit, and the fine trio in the last part (an Angel, the Hermit
and Offerus). It would be difficult to find among modern works a more
exquisite piece of effective unaccompanied part-writing than Parker has
given in his setting of the Latin hymn, _Jam sol recedit igneus_, which
follows immediately after the above trio.




                               CHAPTER X

                            THE MODERN MASS

     The adaptation of liturgical forms to extra-liturgical
     purposes; Mass; Requiem Mass--Stabat Mater; Magnificat; Te
     Deum--Musical masses and the Roman service--Bach: ‘B minor
     Mass’--Bach’s ‘Magnificat in D’; Pergolesi’s _Stabat Mater_;
     Handel’s Te Deums; Graun’s ‘Prague Te Deum’; Haydn’s church
     music--Mozart: the _Requiem_ and other masses--Cherubini:
     _Requiem_ and other masses; Schubert’s masses--Beethoven:
     _Missa Solemnis_; Weber’s masses--Berlioz: _Requiem_; _Te
     Deum_; Rossini’s _Stabat Mater_; Liszt: ‘Graner Mass’ and
     ‘Hungarian Coronation Mass’--Gounod: ‘St. Cecilia Mass’ and
     other masses; Dvořák: _Requiem_ and _Stabat Mater_; Verdi:
     ‘The Manzoni Requiem’--The masses of Rheinberger, Henschel
     and others.


As polyphonic music developed with the expanding possibilities of the
contrapuntal art and the increasing splendor of the Roman liturgical
service, the old church composers seized upon certain portions of
the liturgy as being especially adapted for musical exploitation
and elaboration. The masters of the fifteenth and sixteenth century
ecclesiastical vocal counterpoint made the musical settings of these
parts of the holy office the object of their deepest consideration
and lavished on them their utmost artistic skill and profundity. The
parts of the holy office thus selected were those that were constant,
invariable from day to day; they were six in number and in the
following order: _Kyrie_ (in three parts, _Kyrie eleison!_ _Christe
eleison!_ _Kyrie eleison!_), _Gloria_ (Doxology), _Credo_, _Sanctus_,
_Benedictus_ and _Agnus Dei_. Since these were the principal musical
portions of the eucharistic office sung by the choir, they came to be
spoken of together as one composition, as Palestrina’s ‘Mass of Pope
Marcellus,’ Gounod’s ‘St. Cecilia Mass,’ and so on. In all musical
masses, ancient or modern, the same number and order of movements is
preserved, since the holy office itself is universal and unchangeable.
With the development of instrumental music in the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries, opportunities were offered for combining various
instruments with the voices, and the mass with orchestral accompaniment
arose. When sacred music finally broke loose from ecclesiastical
control and came to be considered independent of the Church, composers
took advantage of the great poetic suggestiveness of the missal text
for constructing elaborate choral works with the combined resources of
instruments and voices. While many of the modern masses here considered
were written as liturgical music for actual church performance,
many must be considered apart from any ecclesiastical use, as pure
concert-music. The most prominent of these are probably Bach’s great ‘B
minor Mass’ and Beethoven’s ‘Mass in D.’

Among the liturgical forms that have been most employed for
extra-liturgical purposes as concert-music are the mass (_Missa
Solemnis_, consisting of the six numbers given above), the _Requiem_
(_Missa pro Defunctis_), _Stabat Mater_, _Te Deum_ and _Magnificat_.
These great religious poems of the Middle Ages and earlier, which were
either adopted into or were associated with the liturgy of the Roman
Church, have never ceased to stir the imagination of composers, some
of whom have been of the Protestant faith. The Protestant Church did
not adopt the Mass into its liturgy, though the early Lutheran Church
borrowed a modified form from the Roman Church and the Anglican Church
still retains many of the same musical texts (such as the Gloria, Te
Deum, Benedictus, and others) that were used in various parts of the
Roman service. The _Kyrie_ and _Gloria_ were formerly frequently used
together in the Lutheran service as the so-called short mass (_Missa
brevis_).

The Requiem Mass (_Missa pro Defunctis_) takes its name from the
beginning of the Introit, _Requiem æternam dona eis, Domine_, and
consists of the holy office celebrated in memory of the departed.
It may take place any day before burial, especially the third, or
on the seventh or the thirtieth day after death, or on the first or
any subsequent anniversary of the death. It is also celebrated on
All Souls’ Day, November 2, in memory of all the faithful departed.
As a form of musical composition, the Requiem consists of nine
parts: (1) The Introit--_Requiem æternam_; (2) _Kyrie_; (3) the
Gradual and Tract--_Requiem æternam_ and _Absolve, Domine_; (4) The
Sequence or Prose--_Dies iræ_; (5) The Offertorium--_Domine Jesu
Christi_; (6) _Sanctus_; (7) _Benedictus_; (8) _Agnus Dei_; and
(9) the Communio--_Lux æterna_. In addition to these the following
are sometimes added: (10) Responsorium--_Libera me_; and (11) the
Lectio--_Tædet animam meam_.


                                   I

The _Stabat Mater_ is a beautiful mediæval poem, whose authorship is
generally ascribed to a Franciscan monk, Jacobus de Benedictis, though
some believe it to have been written by Pope Innocent III and still
others by St. Bonaventure. It was not a part of the liturgy and was
not at first used with music. It did not come into any large use as a
devotional poem until about the thirteenth century and gradually found
its way into the liturgy as a ‘sequence,’ though it did not even appear
in the Roman Missal until 1727, and was not sanctioned as a hymn until
some time after that. It is one of the finest and most popular of the
old Latin poems and has lent itself so well to musical setting that
many composers from Des Prés to Rossini have been inspired to set it.
It depicts the sorrowing mother, Mary, as she stood at the foot of the
cross and the desire of humanity to share with her this sorrow. The
initial words of the poem are

      _Stabat mater dolorosa
      Juxta crucem lacrymosa_,

a free translation of which is--‘The weeping, mournful mother stood
close to the cross.’

The _Magnificat_ is the Song of the Blessed Mary, _Magnificat anima
mea Dominum_ (‘My soul doth magnify the Lord’), and appears as the
central point of musical interest in the Vesper service. During the
period of the exclusively vocal service, it was sung antiphonally,
sometimes as a plain-song melody, with choral response in several
voices. In the second half of the sixteenth century, however, this was
discontinued and only the first versicle was intoned by one voice,
and the other eleven were sung by the choir. This was finally changed
into the antiphonal singing of two choirs. With the development of the
organ, this instrument began to take a place in alternating with the
voices, giving a different antiphonal effect. Thus from the sixteenth
to the eighteenth century we find many so-called ‘Organ Magnificats.’
Later a deterioration began by combining the plain-song with secular or
irrelevant matter, and this custom gradually led to the substitution of
a good secular melody as a _cantus_, in place of the plain-song chant.
In this style Orlandus Lassus produced some of the most charming _a
cappella_ compositions extant. In the Anglican Church, the Magnificat
also assumed free and elaborate proportions and it consists of combined
solo and chorus passages with organ and, sometimes, orchestral
accompaniment. Bach, Mendelssohn and other modern composers have
treated the Magnificat in elaborate oratorio style with orchestral
accompaniment and complex voice-writing.

The _Te Deum Laudamus_ (‘We praise Thee, O God’) seems to owe its
origin to Nicetas, Bishop of Remesiana in Dacia (about A. D. 400), and
it was at once used as an important part of the Nocturns or Matins.
Music was used with it from the beginning, in fact the words were used
with chants already existent. It is in three parts or sections. The
praise of the Trinity occupies all of the first section; ‘Thou art the
King of Glory’ begins the second section, which ends with two verses
of prayer, ‘We therefore pray Thee’ and ‘Make them to be numbered.’
The third section begins with ‘O Lord, save Thy people and bless Thine
heritage.’ It was at first sung to a free chant but was later developed
into complex settings for solos, chorus and elaborate accompaniment.
While it is a part of the service of both the Roman and the Anglican
Churches, the finest examples of this great canticle seem to come from
England, that by Purcell, written for St. Cecilia’s Day, 1694, and
published in 1697, being one of the earliest large ones, and indeed one
of the greatest Te Deums. This was doubtless the model for Handel’s
‘Utrecht Te Deum,’ written in 1712, which is even a nobler work than
that by Purcell. These, together with the ones of Macfarren and
Sullivan, that of Dvořák in 1896, Stanford’s, performed at the Leeds
Festival in 1898, and Parry’s, performed at the Hereford Festival of
1900, are the most famous Te Deums of modern times.


                                   II

The decadence in church-music that began to set in early in the
seventeenth century and that soon caused the glories of the ‘Palestrina
style’ to disappear, may be traced, not so much to the monodic
revolution and the consequent change in the style of writing it
entailed, but primarily to the fact that the composers of church music
in the main wrote at the same time for church and theatre. Blinded
by the greater brilliance of the stage, they were not able to keep
separate these two widely divergent styles and the operatic mode of
speech soon found entrance into the church service, and later there was
very little to distinguish the one style from the other. This condition
continued uninterrupted until the movement for the restoration of
Catholic Church music was started near the middle of the nineteenth
century by Kaspar Ett (1788-1847) and Karl Proske (1794-1861), and
further developed by Franz Witt (1834-1888) and the Cecilian Society.

Before this period of reform set in (and it is by no means carried
to full fruition as yet) a few great composers wrote masses of solid
musical worth for the Roman Church service, though seldom in the real
spirit of the liturgy. Haydn wrote 13 masses and much other church
music, but we miss the ecclesiastical note in his bright, sunny music.
Mozart composed the great Requiem, 15 masses, 4 Kyries, 9 Offertories,
a Te Deum, and other pieces. But of his church music, Dr. Heinrich
Reimann, in a criticism of Jahn’s ‘Life of Mozart’ says: ‘His masses
are unequal in value, but even the best are, in spite of manifold
excellences in other respects, so narrowly conceived, so entirely
adapted, not merely to certain local conditions, but also to the taste
of individual clerical dignitaries and general convention, that the
composer who otherwise knew so well how to fit the tone to the word,
here often appears thoughtless, so little does he trouble to render the
meaning of the text in his music.’ Franz Witt, certainly a competent
authority from the standpoint of their adaptability to the Roman
service, rather severely says: ‘Whoever desires to serve Art (where
instrumental music is in use), let him perform Mozart’s 8th and 9th
Masses (in F and D, Köchel Nos. 192 and 194) and let him disregard
_all_ the rest!’ From the same standpoint, Dr. Karl Weinmann, in his
‘History of Church Music’ (p. 192), judges Beethoven’s two Masses in
C and D as too secular and extravagant in expression for the church
service and adds (p. 193): ‘Whoever has penetrated deeper into the
spirit of the Catholic liturgy, within whose framework the performance
must after all take place, will see that between the seriousness of
the liturgic act and the gaiety of these compositions (of Mozart,
Haydn, and Beethoven), an abyss yawns which is not to be bridged!’
Cherubini’s masses, of which we possess eleven, likewise come under the
condemnation of being un-ecclesiastical in character, notwithstanding
all their inherent qualities of nobility and dignity as sacred music.
And here again we encounter the distinction, to which attention has
been called in an earlier chapter, between church-music and religious
music.

Among the earlier composers whose music was well adapted to the Roman
service, Dr. Weinmann mentions Michael Haydn (1737-1806), brother
of Joseph, as the one who ‘approached perhaps most nearly to the
requirements of church art, at least in his works written without an
orchestra, of which the _Tenebræ_ and the two _Missæ Quadragesimales_
are the most famous.’ Under the influence of the Cecilian Society
movement, Catholic composers, such as Moritz Brosig (1815-1887) and
Joseph Rheinberger (1839-1901), have made noteworthy contributions to a
regenerated church-art.


                                   III

Possibly the finest illustration of the essential difference between
church-music and religious music is to be found in Bach’s incomparable
B minor Mass. It is church-music in no sense of the word, for it was
written without any reference to the liturgic significance of the
text or to the fitness of the music for church service, and it has
never been used as real liturgic music. It is the expression of Bach’s
individual conception of the tremendous religious meaning of the
words, expressed in musical terms that are wholly emancipated from all
ecclesiastical restraint or ritualistic consideration. Though he used
the same words that are found in the Roman Mass, Bach, as a devout
Lutheran, was wholly out of sympathy with the Roman service itself, of
which these words form so vital a part. And yet as a piece of religious
music, it probably has no equal among choral masterpieces, unless it be
Beethoven’s ‘Mass in D.’ It touches the most exalted religious emotions
and voices the common spiritual hopes and aspirations of humanity; it
is religious music, but it is non-sectarian.

This colossal work was written between 1733 and 1738, the _Kyrie_
and the _Gloria_ having been completed in 1733 and the other parts
by 1738. The work was conceived on stupendous lines which outclassed
any previous effort either of his own or of any other composer of
masses. Bach gave one or two parts of this mass now and then at some
of the regular services at Leipzig and these occupied as much time as
could be allotted to the musical portion of the service, for, indeed,
in this work each portion had in itself the dimensions of a cantata.
Unimportant texts were developed into large arias or complicated fugal
choruses, and the variety and abundance of musical material used is
incredible.

Entirely apart from its complexity, stands the fact that Bach’s
musical structure is most expressive, and even if the hearer loses a
word here and there, he cannot fail to catch the spirit, especially in
such passages as the joyous _Gloria_ and the calm _Et in terra pax_. It
is true that Bach’s works, in his own time as now, required a somewhat
trained listener, but his themes are so characteristic of the verbal
ideas expressed in the text that they are in themselves an eloquent,
yet simple, commentary on it. The _Kyrie_ alone consists of three
elaborate parts, the first of which ends in a five-part fugal chorus.
The second part, _Christe eleison_, is a duet sung by two sopranos.
It has a simple, childlike quality of entreaty and is followed by the
third part, _Kyrie eleison_, again fugally treated in four parts. The
following number, the _Gloria_, which, with the _Credo_, stands at the
summit of choral-writing, consists of eight musically complete parts,
the last of which, _Cum sancto spiritu_, written for five-part chorus,
is one of the most powerful and exalted of the entire work. The _Credo_
is set on the same vast lines as the _Gloria_. Beginning with a theme
taken from a Gregorian chorale, the composer develops it fugally after
it has been announced by tenors, basses and altos. The _Credo_ also
consists of eight parts, the choral first part being followed by a most
elaborate soprano and alto duet (_Et in unum Dominum_), after which
follows the five-part fugal chorus (_Et incarnatus_). The _Crucifixus_
is one of the most remarkable portions of the entire work. The bass
theme, appearing thirteen times in succession, gives a remarkable
background, and with the other choral parts, which move freely over it,
creates an atmosphere of mingled pain, sorrow and consecration. _Et
resurrexit_ is taken up by the five-part fugal chorus, which is full
of joy. _Et in spiritum sanctum_ is a bass aria introduced by the oboe
d’amour and the _Confiteor unum baptisma_ closes this group with an
intricate five-part double fugue. The _Sanctus_ is a massive six-part
chorus, the _Osanna_ is an eight-part chorus, the _Benedictus_ is a
tenor solo with violin obbligato, and the _Agnus Dei_ an alto solo. The
last chorus (_Dona nobis pacem_) is in four parts and this brings this
monumental work to a close. Its great difficulty has militated against
its being as frequently performed as it certainly merits. Complete
performances of it have been given at intervals since its complete
production at the Berlin Singakademie in 1835. Its first performance in
America was the one given at Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, in 1900, at the
Bach Festival under direction of J. Frederick Wolle.


                                   IV

Bach’s ‘Magnificat in D.’--The first performance of this great work
(called the ‘Great Magnificat’) was given on Christmas, 1723, at the
evening service in the Thomas Church at Leipzig. It is characterized
by powerful choruses which are elaborated with all of Bach’s technical
resources. It calls for a five-part chorus with accompaniment of organ
and orchestra and, in its feeling of largeness, foreshadows the future
work of this wonderful genius.

The _Stabat Mater_ of Pergolesi (1710-1736) is supposed to have been
written at Pozzuoli, where he went in 1736 because of ill health, and
at the request of the Brotherhood of Saint Luigi de Palazzo to replace
the work of A. Scarlatti which had been performed there regularly on
Good Friday. Some writers, however, think it was written much earlier,
in fact, soon after leaving the Conservatory at Naples in 1729. The
date 1736, however, seems the more authentic and it is likely that he
wrote it while living in the monastery at Pozzuoli, where, however,
he did not devote himself by any means wholly to sacred writing, but
to his favorite _opera buffa_ as well. While the work is not rich in
large ideas--rather is it made up of many short though melodious themes
which, like all of Pergolesi’s, border on the sentimental--it has
always held a high place in Italy.

Handel’s Te Deums.--The _Utrecht Te Deum_, written in 1712 to
celebrate the signing of the peace of Utrecht, was avowedly composed
in the same form as Purcell’s, though Handel’s work was characterized
by greater brilliancy, especially in the orchestral coloring. The work
antagonized his patron, the Grand Duke of Hanover, whose affairs were
by no means furthered by the council of Utrecht, and it therefore
recalls a rather dark hour in Handel’s history. The _Dettingen Te
Deum_, on the contrary, brought outwardly more gratifying results. The
unexpected victory of George II over the French at Dettingen brought
great joy and gratitude to the English people and Handel, who then
was at the Chapel Royal, was requested to write a Te Deum for the
thanksgiving service to be held Nov. 27, 1743, in St. James’s Chapel.
It was begun July 17th and completed some time before the 30th of that
month. The work is rated as one of the greatest by this composer and
the joy and thanksgiving of the whole nation is depicted in a style
that is more grandioso, but less rich in contrapuntal resources, than
the _Utrecht Te Deum_. He achieved his massive effects, not through any
theatrical means, but by combining the note of triumph and exultant
joy with a measured dignity, the effect of which is most compelling.
The fanfare of trumpets and drums which ushers in the opening chorus
has never been surpassed in its magnificence for the expression of
thanksgiving.

Graun’s ‘Prague Te Deum.’--Though he had written some very acceptable
music for church service while a mere boy, Graun (1701-1759) achieved
his first fame as a composer of operas. This led to his appointment as
chapel-master to Frederick the Great, and not long before his death he
wrote two sacred works which have established his permanent fame, the
‘Passion’ and the so-called _Prague Te Deum_. The latter was written
to commemorate his royal patron’s victory at Prague in 1756, but was
not performed until 1762 at Charlottenburg, at the close of the Seven
Years’ War. It was, therefore, really performed as a peace celebration.
It is one of the finest Te Deums in existence and certainly the most
celebrated of Continental settings.

The first important work that proclaimed Joseph Haydn a vocal writer
was the _Stabat Mater_, written in 1771. It follows the prevalent
Italian style and reminds somewhat of Pergolesi, with only a few
suggestions of the Haydn that was revealed in the ‘Creation.’ The
second of his two Te Deums (written in 1800) is a noble composition
which is still much used in church service. Though Haydn’s masses (he
wrote thirteen) are not conceived in the real spirit of the Roman
liturgy and are lacking in dignity and austerity, they are still among
the most frequently used by German Catholic choirs. The freshness and
cheerfulness which pervade his church as well as his secular music
cannot be attributed to lack of seriousness on Haydn’s part, but rather
to fundamental traits of character which looked at God and His whole
universe through eyes that saw only joy and hope. He is said to have
confided to his friend Carpani that at the thought of God his heart
leaped for joy, and he could not help his music doing the same. Among
the most famous of his masses are No. 2 in C (the numbering follows
the Novello edition); the _Paukenmesse_ (_in tempore belli_); No. 3 in
D, the ‘Imperial’; No. 4 in B-flat, ‘The Creation’; and the _Theresien
Messe_ in B-flat.

Hermann Kretzschmar[81] says that ‘between Mozart’s last mass and his
"Requiem" there lies a whole lifetime,’ and indeed this noble work, the
completion of which was cut off by the master’s death, is considered
one of the great choral compositions of all time. Doubtless its wide
appeal is due somewhat to the pathetic and romantic circumstances
surrounding the period of its composition. One never thinks of it
without recalling the mysterious, long black figure of the stranger
who commissioned Mozart to write it, and the apprehension of the sick
and discouraged composer and his pathetic desire to live to see its
completion. The mysterious stranger was later revealed as Count Franz
von Walsegg of Ruppach, who was possessed with the idea of posing as a
composer and who desired to perform a Requiem in memory of his wife who
had died a short time before. It was his plan, which he later carried
out, to let this Requiem be known as his own. Mozart died on Dec. 5,
1791, before completing this work, which occupied his thoughts up to
his last conscious moments. His widow, who was most anxious to have the
‘Requiem’ ready for delivery on the day that it was due, commissioned
Süssmayer to complete the work. Süssmayer was a composer of some
repute and, as a close friend and a pupil of Mozart, was intimately
acquainted with the composer’s ideas regarding the ‘Requiem’; then,
too, his handwriting was so much like Mozart’s that the widow was the
more ready to entrust the completion of the task to him, since he could
preserve the external resemblance to the fragments. So successful was
Süssmayer in writing in his master’s style that for many years the
_Benedictus_, which was entirely his own work, was considered the gem
of the whole. The parts that were written in Mozart’s own hand were the
_Requiem_ and the _Kyrie_ complete, the voice parts, organ and part of
the accompaniment of _Dies iræ_ (68 measures); _Tuba mirum_ (62); _Rex
tremendæ_ (22); _Recordare_ (130); _Confutatis_ (40); _Lacrymosa_ (8);
_Domine_ (78); and _Hostias_ (54).


[Illustration: Mozart rehearsing his Requiem (shortly before his death)]
                      _Painting by Munkacsy_


This work, when completed and delivered to Count von Walsegg, was
copied by him and performed as his own on Dec. 14, 1793, but after
many years the manuscript, as turned over by Süssmayer, was found
and placed in the _Hofbibliothek_ in Vienna. That Mozart strove to
emphasize the churchly character in his ‘Requiem’ is particularly in
evidence in the Introit (_Requiem æternam_), also in his use of the
Gregorian chorale and in the simplicity of his themes. The picturing
of the approach of the Day of Judgment (_Dies iræ_) is dramatic and
reveals a heaviness which is further augmented by the restlessness
of the orchestra; notwithstanding this, however, Mozart introduces
a spirit of resignation and the whole passage becomes peaceful and
expressive. The _Kyrie_ is a beautiful, ornate double fugue developed
from the two themes to which the words _Kyrie eleison_ and _Christe
eleison_ are set. The _Rex tremendæ_ is another example of elaborate
as well as effective contrapuntal writing--here in four-voiced canon
form. Its close is delicately contrasted with the body of the movement
by the introduction of the prayer, _Salva me, fons pietatis_. The
_Recordare_, sung by a quartet of solo voices with an independent fugal
accompaniment, is one of the most exquisite portions of the work and
by many is considered the finest. It is rich in beautiful melodies and
is worked out in most delicate detail. The touching _Confutatis_, sung
antiphonally by men’s and women’s voices, is another effective portion
of this great work, which Jahn speaks of as ‘the true and legitimate
expression of his (Mozart’s) artistic nature at its highest point of
finish--his imperishable monument.’

Masses.--Mozart had mastered this form of composition, according to
the standards of the time, while still a mere boy; but probably his
best mass, the one ranking closest to the ‘Requiem,’ is the sixth,
the Mass in F, which is very contrapuntal and contains some masterly
writing. In the _Credo_ of this mass he used material from the
‘Jupiter’ Symphony, as he did also in the _Sanctus_ of the B-flat or
‘Credo’ Mass. The Mass in D is a close second to the one in F above
mentioned and in these two he expressed himself freely, while in the
following five, which are unfortunately his best known, he was obliged
to write more artificially in order to satisfy his display-loving
patron, the Archbishop of Salzburg.

Most of the sixteen masses in the Breitkopf and Härtel complete edition
of Mozart’s works are supposed to have been youthful compositions,
which, though suggestive of other works of the master, fall far short
of his usual skill. According to Köchel, however, the masses published
by Novello are not all genuine; such are those in E-flat (Novello, Nos.
13 and 16), and in C (No. 17). Jahn and Köchel both agree in believing
that the one in B-flat (No. 7, Novello, but published originally by
Peters) is not Mozart’s and base their contention not only on the use
of the clarinets, which were not present in his Salzburg orchestra,
but on the fact that Mozart’s widow credited Süssmayer with being the
composer of the work. Other doubtful ones are two short masses in C
and G (Novello, Nos. 8 and 9), one in G (Novello, No. 12) and a short
Requiem in D minor which Köchel discards because of his certainty that
Mozart never wrote but one Requiem, his last, unfinished work.

The fact that Mozart’s compositions were circulated mostly in
manuscript form and that few of them were published during his
lifetime, may be largely responsible for the error of attributing these
masses to him and composers of small attainments may have used this
means for getting a hearing for their works. A Mass in C, known as the
‘Coronation Mass’ (why this name, is not known) was evidently patched
together from his opera _Cosi fan tutte_, though some authorities
believe that he himself compiled the opera from the mass. The
incomplete Mass in C minor is known to be genuine, though he afterwards
used a large part of it in his _Davidde penitente_. This mass was begun
in 1782 and was intended for performance as a sort of thank-offering
upon his marriage to Constance Weber and it had one performance on
Aug. 25, 1783, in St. Peter’s Church, Salzburg. He did not complete
it for the ceremony, however, and the missing numbers were supplied
by him with material from his other works. The work is uneven in
quality, some of it being very immature and almost trivial, while other
parts, such as the _Kyrie_ and _Gratias_, do not fall far below the
‘Requiem.’ Aloys Schmitt endeavored to complete the work in order to
make it available for church-service. As the _Agnus Dei_ was missing,
he repeated the music of the _Kyrie_ and, to complete the unfinished
_Credo_, he inserted unfamiliar sacred compositions of Mozart’s, thus
using the composer’s own material and inserting his own harmonies, here
and there, merely to connect the parts.


                                   V

Cherubini’s Requiem Mass in C minor was composed in 1816 at the request
of Louis XVIII for a memorial service for Louis XVI, but it did not
gain much more than passing recognition until it was again performed
at the funeral service of Méhul in 1818. It was by all means the best
Requiem Mass produced in France in many years and one which deserved
not merely local but general recognition. The work is soulful and
expressive, though Cherubini was restrained in his utterance. He was
given to using short, simple themes, which, however, are not only
beautiful, but artistically expressive. The general tone of the work
is gloomy and sadly resigned, dwelling on the thought of death as
man’s inevitable destiny. The first ray of hope or light comes with
the words--_ad te omnis caro veniet_, but on the whole the dark tints
prevail throughout this masterful and artistic work and give it a
peculiar force which few other ‘masses for the dead’ have attained.

Cherubini’s second _Requiem_ in D minor, written in 1836, though not
unlike the first both as to musical material and coloring, is a far
less important work. The fact that it was written entirely for male
voices makes it somewhat individual in character, but although numerous
Requiems have appeared for male voices, they are no longer performed.
This one has been arranged for the usual mixed voices.

Masses.--The ‘D minor Mass,’ composed in 1821, is the best of his
masses and can easily be classed with his two famous Requiems. It is
dignified, impressive, and at times tinged with deep sorrow. As in
the Requiems, so also here, there is much impressive fugal writing,
so characteristic of Cherubini. There are also more passages for solo
voices, which at times employ a form of intonation which is almost
recitative. The work is not given as frequently as it deserves. A
fragment of another mass written in 1806 and known as the ‘Eight-voiced
Credo’ (_a cappella_) is heard much more frequently of late, though
it has by no means the power of the preceding. The close, _Et vitam
venturi sæculi_, is a masterpiece of contrapuntal writing which more
than compensates for the lack of content in the other numbers. The fact
that the form of liturgy used at the French court was peculiar to that
environment accounts for the fragments left by Cherubini, which were
evidently used in place of an entire mass.

With his usual fluency Schubert (1797-1828) wrote the first three of
his seven masses in one year (1814) and the finest of these is the one
in G, which is still used in the Roman Church, and of which the _Credo_
is particularly fine. These masses were heard, in Schubert’s time,
only in suburban Vienna churches, as the composer’s prestige was not
sufficient for a larger hearing. Two later masses by Schubert are given
now in concert form--the one in A-flat written in 1822 and the one in
E-flat written in 1828. These works were revived by Herbeck and Brahms
in Vienna and belong without doubt to the very best examples of this
style of writing--in fact, some authorities pronounce them the greatest
works of this mighty genius, excepting only the D minor Quartet.
Unfortunately the parts are not all equally great. The ‘Mass in E-flat’
has a larger instrumental development than the others, the orchestra
often announcing, augmenting, completing, or commenting on the text of
the choral parts, as is the case with Beethoven. Schubert’s tendency in
all his masses was to use themes which approach closely to the form of
the _Lied_ as he conceived it. The _Gloria_ of this mass, as also of
the one in A-flat, is the most magnificent part of the work.


                                   VI

Of the two masses which Beethoven wrote, the first in C major, opus
80, is overshadowed by the second in D major, opus 123. While the
‘C major Mass,’ which was Beethoven’s first large choral work in an
ecclesiastical form, may be lacking in some respects, it is by no means
an unimportant or unworthy composition. Owing to the fact that he
departed from the style of Haydn and Mozart and approached the subject
from an entirely different standpoint, it did not find immediate favor.
Conflicting accounts are given as to the date of first performance
which took place in the chapel of Count Esterhazy, the occasion being
the birthday of the Countess. Kretzschmar gives the date as Sept. 15,
1807, while Grove names Sept. 8, 1807, both agreeing, however, that it
was in honor of the Countess’ birthday.

The _Missa Solemnis_, already referred to as the ‘D major Mass,’
belongs to Beethoven’s third period and is, therefore, characterized by
remarkable freedom of treatment and by depth and richness of musical
content. Although it was begun in 1818 and planned for the installation
of the Archduke Rudolph, his pupil (to whom he was very devoted), as
Archbishop of Olmütz on March 20, 1820, it was not completed until
1823, three years after the event for which it was intended. It is
a sort of spiritual relative of the ‘Ninth Symphony,’ sketches of
which had been begun as early as 1815. The two works are in the same
key and grew side by side in the composer’s thought. Three movements
of the mass occupied a place on the program of the memorable concert
(May 7, 1824, in Vienna) at which the ‘Ninth Symphony’ received its
first performance, when the audience went into ecstasies of enthusiasm
at the sublime grandeur of the music and the pathetic figure of the
deaf creator of such moving sounds. The mass was not performed entire
until 1824 in Petrograd. An illustration of his habit of making the
form subservient to the thought-content is the introduction of warlike
music into the _Agnus Dei_, in order to afford contrast to the thought
of peace around which the other thoughts are centred. The _Credo_ is
exceedingly difficult for the singers, because of the excessively
high range of the voice-parts and the complicated interweaving of the
themes. The _Benedictus_ is one of the most beautiful ever written
and is made particularly effective by the use of the solo violin,
descending from the highest register, in a melody of beautiful
simplicity--a movement whose loveliness is still more enhanced by
the subdued chorus and accompaniment. The difficulty of the work
as a whole prevents its frequent performance. The least difficult
parts are the _Kyrie_ and the _Sanctus_, and the former is given a
unique effect through the accompaniment, which is for organ and brass
instruments only. This work, like Bach’s ‘B minor Mass,’ requires
strong adjectives for a just valuation and when W. H. Hadow[82] speaks
of it as ‘gigantic, elemental, Mount Athos hewn into a monument, scored
at the base with fissure and landslip, rising through cloud and tempest
beyond the reach of human gaze,’ he merely sums up graphically the
general critical estimate of this great work, which, like the great
Bach Mass to which alone it can be compared, must be regarded, not as
church-music or liturgical music merely, but as religious music in a
universal sense.

Weber’s masses, like many others of this early period, are now seldom
given, though there is much good writing in them. The one in E-flat
major, known as the _Jubelmesse_, was performed at Dresden in 1818,
which was the fiftieth year of the reign of the king of Saxony, and, as
it was an occasional work, it embodied the pomp and importance of this
festal event. The one in G, written a year later for a family festival
in the King’s household, was more intimate in character. Weber wrote to
Rochlitz: ‘I mean to keep before me the idea of a happy family-party
kneeling in prayer and rejoicing before the Lord as His children.’ Both
works manifest a devotional spirit.


                                   VII

Hector Berlioz’ ‘Requiem,’ written during 1836-37 at the request of
the French government, was performed Dec. 5, 1837, in the Invalides
in Paris at the memorial services for General Damrémont and the
soldiers who had perished in the storming of Constantina in Algiers,
the government paying the composer four thousand francs for the work.
The original purpose of the commission, however, was to have been a
memorial for those who had fallen in the July Revolution of 1830.
Berlioz had completed his work and rehearsals had begun, when the
Minister of the Interior who had commissioned Berlioz was succeeded
by one who was of a different mind and the July festival took place
without music. But the taking of Constantina offered Berlioz a second
chance for his work. Berlioz arranged performances of it in several
cities of Germany, but its wide hearing came only recently. The work
is colossal, but so realistic, so almost savage in its coloring that
the hearer is fairly awed. It is also so complicated and makes such
tremendous demands upon both the orchestra and the singers, that only
few organizations can give it adequate presentation and then only by a
large addition of instruments to the full orchestra and by arranging
them in groups in various parts of the auditorium. The directions call
for four brass bands and sixteen drums in addition to the regular
orchestra. Extraordinary and often well-nigh impossible demands are
made upon the human voice, but, notwithstanding these drawbacks, it
remains the composer’s most mature work, full of originality and
coloring.

The most remarkable part of the work--the most original and
theatrically impressive--is the _Dies iræ_, in which the composer
has used every possible tonal resource to picture the terrors of the
Day of Judgment. After the choral passage beginning with _Quantus
tremor est futurus_ has twice reached a forceful climax, the orchestra
softens down for a few measures, when it suddenly bursts out with a
crash like a thunder-bolt, coming not only from the main orchestra on
the stage, but from the above mentioned bands in various parts of the
auditorium. A more vivid and theatrical description of the awful day
cannot be imagined, and at the climax the basses thunder out the _Tuba
mirum_ amidst a new outburst from the orchestra, strengthened by many
kettle-drums. So overwhelming is this volume of sound that it became
the butt of the ridicule of the critics, who declared that no such
outburst of noise had been heard in Paris since the storming of the
Bastile! A great sense of relief comes with the quiet _Quid sum miser_,
which Berlioz directed in the score should be sung ‘with an expression
of humility and awe.’ _Rex tremendæ_ again brings in the voice-parts
_fortissimo_, accompanied by crashing thunderbolts in the orchestra.
This continues up to the last few measures, _Salva me_, which are sung
almost in a whisper. One of the finest portions of the work is the
_Lacrymosa_, which also abounds in striking contrasts, and contains
broad, massive harmonies and flowing melodies.

A _Te Deum_ was written by Berlioz in 1835 as a fragment of a larger
work planned in honor of Napoleon. In writing it the composer pictured
to himself the hero, returning from the victorious Italian campaign, at
the moment when his entry at Nôtre Dame would open the service. This
heroic picture and the possibilities of the great cathedral inspired
Berlioz to use, besides orchestra and organ, three choirs, including a
large male chorus and three hundred children. In the theatrical, not
to say spectacular, plan of the whole, Berlioz lost the import of the
words and thought only of tremendous effects; hence it became even
more sensational than the _Requiem_. From the standpoint of musical
color-effects, it is a remarkable work, which is given oftener now than
during the first decades after its birth. Although written in 1835, it
had to wait until 1853 for its first performance, which took place in
London. Thirty years later (in 1883) it had its second performance,
this time in Bordeaux--the first time in France.

Rossini’s _Stabat Mater_ belongs to the large class of eighteenth
and nineteenth century church-music that was dominated by operatic
models and in which the devotional and serious spirit was almost wholly
absent. The _Stabat Mater_ was written in 1832 at the request of a
Spanish friend and dedicated to the Abbé Valera with no thought of
its being published. However, when some rather romantic circumstances
brought it before the public in 1841, Rossini revised it and since
then, unfortunately, it has been one of the most popular of sacred
works--‘unfortunately,’ because it is almost wholly irreligious in
feeling and theatrical in mode of expression. As music, divorced
from its text, its melodies are gay, brilliant, sensuously beautiful
operatic pieces, but wholly out of place with sacred texts. The most
famous of these misplaced melodies are the _Quis est homo_ for soprano,
the _Inflammatus_ for soprano obbligato and chorus, and the _Cujus
animam_ for tenor. The nearest approach to the religious spirit is the
bass aria, _Pro peccatis_.

The _Missa Solemnis_ (‘Graner Mass’) of Liszt, who seemed to love
composition of sacred music above all else, brought to his conception
of the mass a consecration which, even had he been less of a genius,
would have assured devotional music. The so-called ‘Graner Mass’ was
written for the dedication of the Cathedral of Gran, which took place
on August 31, 1856. A noble atmosphere pervades the entire work and it
is made especially interesting through the use of leading motives, the
first instance of the kind in the history of the mass. It is not the
‘leading motive’ of the later Wagner type, but rather the employment
of themes, transformed according to context and varied connection,
as Liszt had developed it in _Les Préludes_ and his piano concertos.
Thus the trumpet-like phrase at the beginning of the _Gloria_,
reappears in the _Resurrexit_, the _Hosanna_, and the _Dona nobis_. The
orchestration is rich and the music always appropriate to the text.
Liszt spoke of the music as having been ‘rather prayed than composed.’
While the work shows the influence of Beethoven, it is more akin to
Wagner, in that the instrumental accompaniment has a larger share in
the action; this and his unusual use of thematic material give to the
work added historical importance. The performance of the mass caused
a controversy as to its merits and tendencies that raged for several
decades. Liszt, in all that he attempted, was a reformer. His object in
the field of church music was to bring about ‘an ecclesiastical musical
style that should bring the liturgy of the Roman Church nearer to an
intellectual and emotional expression of the age, should be in closer
sympathy with existing artistic ideals as they were actually manifested
in music.’[83]

‘Hungarian Coronation Mass.’--This work, which Liszt wrote in 1867,
though also beautiful and interesting, is by no means as fine as the
‘Graner Mass.’ Possibly it was written more hurriedly; certainly it is
not as strong as the earlier work. Both masses contain unusual effects,
through the frequent employment of unison vocal parts.


                                   VIII

In addition to the religious music already mentioned and much liturgic
music, Gounod wrote four masses, of which the first _(Messe solennelle
à Sainte Cecile_) is the most important and the most popular. The
second (_Angeli custodes_) was written in 1882; the third (_Messe à
Jeanne d’Arc_) was performed at the Cathedral of Rheims in 1887 and the
fourth appeared in 1888. The ‘St. Cecilia Mass’ was an early work and
its unusually enthusiastic reception by the English public when several
movements were performed at a concert in London on January 13, 1851,
first called the attention of the musical world to the young composer’s
great ability. It was not performed entire in Paris, however, until
Nov. 22, 1855, at one of the annual St. Cecilia celebrations at the
church of St. Eustache. The London success was repeated at the Paris
performance and this mass, among Gounod’s religious music, shares the
same popularity as does his ‘Faust’ among his operas. It is pervaded
by an atmosphere of simplicity that offsets the dramatic painting
of Berlioz. In addition it possesses grace, nobility and charm,
though its melodies are frequently cloying with their sweetness. The
finest numbers are the devotional _Kyrie_, the powerful _Credo_, the
familiar _Sanctus_ with its fine tenor melody which recurs at the
close, delivered with full chorus in pompous, jubilant tone; and the
_Benedictus_, which is treated in old ecclesiastical chant style for
soprano solo and organ accompaniment, which is later softly repeated by
a six-part chorus.

Dvořák’s _Requiem_ was written for and performed at the Birmingham
Festival in 1891. The most beautiful portion is the _Agnus Dei_, but,
while the music throughout is sad and soulful and shows excellent
workmanship, it is not as strong as the composer’s _Stabat Mater_,
revealing much imitation of Berlioz. Throughout the score (in vocal and
orchestral parts) he makes frequent use of a short, poignantly incisive
motive compressed within the compass of a diminished third, sometimes
with soul-shattering effect.

The _Stabat Mater_, written in 1876 and performed by the London
Musical Society on March 10, 1883, on the other hand expresses much
more the strongly individual style of the composer and in consequence
has found a much stronger hold and bids fair to continue long in public
favor. It begins with a breadth and force which distinguish it from all
other settings of this poem. It is conceived from a modern romantic
viewpoint and is full of effective tone-painting. The portrayal of the
sorrowing Mary at the foot of the cross is touchingly but majestically
drawn, and the opening quartet and chorus, _Stabat mater dolorosa_, has
a certain dramatic force. The composer then turns away from the dark
tones--the lament and sorrow--and lets the music fittingly express the
loveliness of the mother of the Saviour. The _Eia, mater_ suggests a
funeral march, with the principal motive in the bass; and the _Fac me
vere tecum flere_, for tenor solo and chorus preceded by a forceful
orchestral introduction, is one of the most dramatic portions of the
work. The last number, _Quando corpus morietur_, is quite similar
to the opening number, and the Amen, artistically wrought in double
counterpoint, brings the whole to an effective close.

Verdi’s ‘Manzoni Requiem.’--On May 22nd, 1874, the City of Milan
held a memorial service at St. Mark’s Cathedral, commemorating the
first anniversary of the death of the great poet Alessandro Manzoni,
and commissioned Italy’s greatest composer, Verdi, to write a Requiem
for the occasion. The work was written mostly during the summer of
1873 while the composer was in France, Verdi utilizing for its last
number the _Libera me_ which he had five years previously written for
the projected Requiem for Rossini, in collaboration with twelve other
Italian composers, a project which was finally abandoned. A gentle,
devout and thoroughly ecclesiastical spirit pervades the work, which
is, however, conceived in the Italian style, therefore in lighter vein
than is the case with most of the great Requiems of history; yet its
orchestration and use of musical material show clearly the modern trend
instituted by Wagner. Although it had a number of hearings in Europe
and in America, it is, unfortunately, seldom given now. It is conceived
in the mood in which most of the great Italian composers in this form
have viewed death. There is the simple, childlike faith peculiar to the
Italian people, mingled with a combination of sadness and peace--yet
it is strong, expressive, and at times intensely dramatic, and always
constructed with the master’s unerring intuition for fine musical
effects. While the unsympathetic German, Hans von Bülow, condemned
it as ‘an opera in ecclesiastical costume,’ the world generally
acknowledges that it is sincere, lovely, though dramatically strong and
effective, music. The Italian wealth of melody is everywhere present.
It opens with a quiet Introit in elegiac mood (_Requiem æternam_),
which suddenly changes in the _Te decet_, where, with an unexpected
shift of key, the basses give out a fugal theme which gradually
leads over to the _Kyrie_, which is sung by quartet and chorus. One
of the strongest numbers is the _Dies iræ_, which is a chorus of
almost startling power, whose effects, however, are obtained through
legitimate musical means. Notably strong is the _Tuba mirum_ which
enters dramatically and works up to a tremendous climax. In striking
contrast is the beautiful trio, _Quid sum miser_; it begins softly
with luscious melody and maintains its subdued tone throughout, until
suddenly interrupted by the _Rex tremendæ_, which with quartet and
chorus rises through sharply contrasting _pianissimo_ and _fortissimo_
passages to a most dramatic climax, continuing through the _Salva
me_. In the _Agnus Dei_ an original and unique effect is obtained by
letting the soprano and mezzo-soprano solo voices sing the same melody
an octave apart throughout. The solo voices enter unaccompanied and
the chorus joins in here and there. The most powerful number in the
entire work is the _Libera me_, which begins with a soprano solo in the
free, unmeasured intonation of old ecclesiastical psalmody, repeated
in like manner by the chorus in full harmony. The solo soon leads
into the _Dies iræ_ and the introductory _Requiem æternam_, which are
followed by a magnificent fugue in strict form on the words _Libera
me_. After this there is a repetition of the solo chant and the closing
unison tones in the chorus are sung with softest possible tone (marked
_pppp_), leaving an effect of absolute peace and repose.


                                   IX

Joseph Rheinberger, whose work includes almost every form of musical
composition, wrote twelve masses, one of which, the ‘Mass in E-flat’
for double choir dedicated to Pope Leo XIII, obtained for the composer
the order of knighthood of Gregory the Great. He wrote also a _Stabat
Mater_, a _De Profundis_ and much other music for the church service.
All of these, and especially the masses, are beautiful both as music
and as examples of the best modern liturgical writing, and a deep
religious fervor pervades them. His appointment in 1877 as director of
the Court Church music at Munich inspired him to write prolifically for
the service of the Roman Church, to which he has contributed some of
its finest modern numbers, thoroughly liturgical in spirit and in mode
of treatment. For this reason they are extensively used in the Roman
Church and are not well known to the concert-goer.

Henschel’s _Requiem_, opus 59, had its initial performance in Boston in
February, 1903, and has since been frequently heard both in Europe and
America. It was written in memory of his wife, Lillian Bailey Henschel,
who was one of his most distinguished pupils and who concertized with
him with signal success, especially in duet-singing. It is a grateful
work, adapted everywhere to the voices and at times strongly influenced
by the song-form. It begins in deep sorrow, which is gradually lifted
through the comfort of the church. Especially strong is the first part,
which is an artistic masterpiece.

Henschel’s _Stabat Mater_ was brought out at the Birmingham Festival
in 1894, on which occasion the composer also sang the part of Saul in
the oratorio of this name by Parry, thus appearing in two important
capacities at the festival, that of composer and interpretative artist.
Besides the _Stabat Mater_ and the above mentioned _Requiem_, he wrote
a number of sacred works in large form, among them a Te Deum, opus 52.
All are grateful and effective compositions.

       *       *       *       *       *

The number of masses written for liturgic and concert use is very
large, and extended enumeration of them here would be futile for
present purposes. Several notable ones, however, might well be added
to our list. Among these will be found the easy and much-used ‘Mass in
B-flat’ by Henry Farmer (1819-1891), a self-taught English musician;
‘Mass in C’ by the Dutch pianist and composer, Eduard Silas (born
1827), which won a prize of a gold medal and one thousand francs in
an international competition of sacred music held in Belgium in 1866,
in which there were seventy-six competitors of twelve nationalities;
‘Requiem Mass’ by Robert Schumann (1810-1856), melodious and
non-liturgical in spirit; ‘Requiem Mass’ by Charles V. Stanford (born
1852), in memory of Lord Leighton, produced at the Birmingham Festival
of 1897 and thoroughly ecclesiastical in style and feeling; and the
‘Mass in G,’ a Stabat Mater, and a Te Deum by the same composer.


                              FOOTNOTES:

[81] Kretzschmar, _Führer durch den Konzertsaal, Kirchliche Werke_, p.
266.

[82] ‘Oxford History of Music,’ Vol. V, p. 168.

[83] Richard Aldrich in the Preface to the Schirmer edition of the
‘Graner Mass.’




                               CHAPTER XI

                CONTEMPORANEOUS CHORAL MUSIC IN GERMANY

     Contemporaneous Choral Music in Germany--Richard Strauss:
     _Wanderers Sturmlied_; _Taillefer_; Motets--Taubmann:
     _Eine Deutsche Messe_; _Sängerweihe_; Georg Schumann:
     _Ruth_; _Totenklage_ and other works--Max Reger’s choral
     compositions; Schönberg: _Gurrelieder_; ‘Transfigured Night’;
     _Pierrot lunaire_--Other choral writers of the present;
     Felix Draeseke’s _Christus_; Wolfrum’s _Weinachtsmysterium_;
     Albert Fuchs; Wilhelm Platz; August Bungert’s _Warum? Woher?
     Wohin?_; Felix Woyrsch: _Totentanz_ and other works; Wilhelm
     Berger’s _Totentanz_; Karl Ad. Lorenz: _Das Licht_; other
     contributors to modern German choral literature.


The historian or reviewer of contemporaneous events is naturally
confronted with a problem of greater complexity and perplexity than
when he is taking account of, and giving valuation to, the events and
works of a past generation, even though it be in the immediate past.
There are always present too many forces and tendencies in the making,
to be able to see them as the next generation will see them--more
nearly in their right perspective. And so some reader twenty-five years
hence may chance to read these chapters on present-day music as seen
through present-day eyes and may wonder that this or that composer is
barely mentioned by name or by work. Yet this method of mere tabulation
must of necessity be resorted to where works have only recently been
published and have as yet found but small public recognition; for
this volume is primarily a volume of record, not of prophecy. In each
country, however, present musical conditions are nourished by the
survival of tendencies and styles from the last generation and by new
forces that at present appear in the guise of mere individualism.

Contemporaneous choral music in Germany largely represents the negation
of older traditions, Handelian and Mendelssohnian, in thought and
construction; the after-development and carrying over into the oratorio
and cantata field of the principle of the Wagnerian leading-motive;
and, especially, the florescence of the modern spirit of unconstrained
freedom of individual expression within very broadly defined artistic
limitations.


                                   I

As Debussy in France, so Richard Strauss in Germany might be said to
be the best-known of all creative musicians who are identified with the
development of choral composition along its present individualistic
lines. And like Debussy, Strauss has done his most important work
in the dramatic and symphonic forms, rather than in the choral. Yet
he made frequent invasions into the choral field, and always with
notable success. His _Wanderers Sturmlied_, opus 14 (composed 1883-84
after a text by Goethe), a product of his first period of creative
activity in Munich, is still a repertory number of the larger German
choral associations. It is written for six-part mixed chorus and full
orchestra, and though a work of the master’s youth, fascinates by
reason of the strongly individual flavor of its inspiration and its
power of emotional delineation. Strauss’ treatment of the poem, which
was the outcome of Goethe’s sorrow at parting with Friederike Brion in
the fall of 1771, is strongly subjective and akin to that of Brahms
in the latter’s _Nänie_ and ‘Song of Fate.’ It is a moot question
whether what Romain Rolland[84] calls its ‘affected thought and style’
is not rather an intimate musical sympathy with the Wertherian ideals
of its eighteenth century poem. Technically far more difficult and
making demands with which only a few of the greater German choral
bodies are able to comply, are two _a cappella_ choruses, opus 34, for
sixteen-part mixed chorus, composed in 1897. Not without a suggestion
of Brahmsian influence is _Der Abend_ (Schiller), rich in serious
beauty, harmonious in formal and poetic working out. Rückert’s _Hymne_,
its companion-piece, is conceived antiphonally, its counterpoint
effortless and flowing and suggestive of Lassus at his best.

During the first years of Strauss’ activity in Berlin (1898-1905)
he also wrote some shorter numbers, lyric and spontaneous, for male
chorus: opus 42, _Liebe_ and _Altdeutscher Schlachtgesang_ (Old German
Battlesong) and opus 49, _Schlachtgesang_ (Battle Hymn), _Lied der
Freundschaft_ (Song of Friendship), and _Der Brauttanz_ (The Bridal
Dance). In 1903, however, came his splendid choral ballad _Taillefer_,
a setting of Uhland’s poem for mixed chorus, solos and full orchestra,
dedicated to the Philosophical Faculty of the University of Heidelberg,
the dedication representing the composer’s acknowledgment of the
doctorate which the University had bestowed upon him _honoris causa_.
The solo parts are small--one, tenor, for Taillefer; another, bass, for
William of Normandy.

There is a great deal of rhythmically direct unison passage-work
throughout the score, which serves to throw the four-part sections into
high relief, notably in the interlude music descriptive of the battle
of Hastings, in which the masses of choral tone are handled with great
power. When Strauss conducted the work at its _première_ in Heidelberg
(Oct. 26, 1903), the epic ‘Song of Roland’ in particular made a deep
appeal by reason of its primitive force. As much as any of his works,
_Taillefer_ shows that Strauss is a poet as well as a composer. It
might almost be considered a choral pendant, circumscribed by its more
definite textual and historical program, of the composer’s symphonic
_Heldenleben._

What is practically Strauss’ only contributions to the literature of
sacred choral music, the _Deutsche Motette_ (German Motets), opus 62,
after Friederich Rückert’s words, for sixteen-part mixed chorus and
four solo voices, were completed June 22, 1913; while the composer was
at the same time occupied by his ballet _Légende de Joseph_ and his
‘Alpine Symphony.’

Strauss’ _Deutsche Motette_ are his nearest approach to oratorio.
But if this form has not appealed to him, it has to others among
his contemporaries. In the same category as Brahms’ _Deutsches
Requiem_ belongs Taubmann’s _Deutsche Messe_, first performed at the
_Tonkünstlerversammlung_ in Dortmund, 1898, and given in New York in
1913 by the Oratorio Society. But where the music of Brahms’ _Requiem_
represents the deep outpouring of genuine sorrow and, owing to its
consequent lyric character and exploitation of a single mood, moves
within a more limited circle of expression and employs an idiom
comparatively simple, Taubmann’s ‘Mass’ rings the changes of a richly
varied succession of impressions. Though the lyric element is by no
means forgotten, the dramatic note predominates. Its beauty is cast in
a massive mold, and notable are the masterly choral fugues, far beyond
anything the ‘German Requiem’ can show. The easily flowing, plastically
contrapuntal development of the work is wonderfully varied, and at the
same time serves primarily as an underlying river-bed above which a
powerful emotional current pulses, often moving with genuine emotional
strength.

Taubmann has written other choral works: a setting of ‘Psalm XIII’
for solos, chorus and orchestra; _Tauwetter_ (‘Thawing-Time’) for
male chorus and orchestra; and a _Sängerweihe_ (‘Bardal Dedication’),
a choral drama, which provides for a chorus and organ in the body of
the concert-hall to stimulate ‘ideal participation on the part of the
audience’; yet _Eine Deutsche Messe_ will probably continue to be
considered his greatest work, as well as one of the greatest glories of
modern German choral composition.

Another ranking work in the choral music of contemporaneous Germany
is Georg Schumann’s biblical oratorio _Ruth_, for soprano, alto and
baritone solos, chorus of mixed voices and orchestra. It is a far
cry to this work from Mendelssohn’s _Elijah_. Schumann, like Bossi
and Wolf-Ferrari, handles his sacred text (extended by much poetic
material) from a secular point of view, yet with great mastery of means
and undeniable effect. There is not much that is inherently sacred in
the Old Testament idyl and hence it lends itself, like the ‘Song of
Songs,’ to a freer and less narrowly religious musical interpretation.
Old Hebrew melodies are gracefully introduced in connection with
the composer’s own thematic material and, like César Franck in his
_Rébecca_, Schumann employs every rhythmic and harmonic means, not
forgetting a brilliant and individual orchestration, to give his work
a quasi-oriental atmosphere. As regards polyphonic handling Schumann
writes in the manner of Bach and Brahms, but identifies himself with
the present-day South German composers with respect to a rich and
glowing tonal color. His choral movement is at all times plastic and
exceedingly varied.

_Ruth_ is undoubtedly Schumann’s most important accomplishment in the
choral field; yet he has composed other works which call for mention.
His _Totenklage_ (‘Elegiac Lament’), opus 33, and his _Sehnsucht_
(‘Yearning’), opus 40, for chorus, in themselves are of such marked
inspiration and artistry that they would serve to establish his
reputation had _Ruth_ never been written. His _Drei Geistliche Gesänge_
(‘Three Sacred Songs’), opus 31, for chorus, also testify to a daring
inspiration which makes itself felt within the limitations of the _a
cappella_ religious song.


                                   II

In this field, too, Max Reger, a Bavarian and a brilliant member of
that South German group of composers among which Richard Strauss is
the most prominent figure, has done notable work, though his creative
activity has been displayed mainly along instrumental lines. A
grandiose setting of ‘Psalm 100’ for mixed chorus, orchestra and organ;
‘12 Religious Folk-Songs of Germany’ for mixed chorus; three six-part
_a cappella_ mixed choruses (opus 39) and a five-part _a cappella_
‘Palm-Sunday Morning,’ to say nothing of his forty easy four-part songs
for service use, and his choral cantatas for the great festivals of the
Evangelical church year--all testify to his interest in choral music.
Reger is a lover of elaborate counterpoint and recondite harmonic
device and he, like Schumann, has been influenced largely by J. S. Bach
and Brahms. From the former he has taken over the cult of traditional
forms, from the latter he has learned to make use of the abounding
treasure of folk-song inspiration, how to pour the wine of new ideas
into the old formal bottles, and how to venture even into metaphysics
in his search for exact expression. This is very evident in his secular
choral works, in _An den Gesang_ (‘To the Genius of Song’), opus 21,
for male chorus and orchestra; the _Gesang der Verklärten_ (‘The Song
of the Glorified’), opus 75, for five-part chorus and orchestra; _Die
Nonne_ (‘The Nun’), opus 112, for mixed chorus, orchestra and organ;
and the imposing _Weihe der Nacht_ (‘The Consecration of Night’),
opus 119, for alto solo, male chorus and orchestra, and _Römischer
Triumphgesang_ ‘Roman Triumphal Song’, opus 126, for male chorus and
orchestra.

Reger, even in his earlier works, shows a tendency toward extreme
complexity in structure and an excess of technical elaboration which is
not counterbalanced by that strong control of imagination which makes
for ultimate clarity. On the contrary, he heaps Pelion upon Ossa in
harmonic daring and arbitrary modulation. And still his is not to be
considered the last word in this respect in choral composition, for he
has been out-Heroded by the Viennese composer Arnold Schönberg.

Schönberg is the head of a school of younger Viennese musical
impressionists and independents, including Karl Horwitz, Heinrich
Jalowetz, Alban Berg, Anton von Webern, Egon Wellesz, who have
abandoned the more romantic and classic tenets of Bruckner and Hugo
Wolf to follow this ultra-modern leader. One of the very few modern
composers the performance of whose works has, on occasion, aroused the
active hostility of his audiences, he has written symphonic music (the
suite _Pelléas et Mélisande_), chamber music, songs, piano pieces, and
a highly original and interesting text-book on harmony. This composer,
‘whose every chord is the outcome of an emotion’ and who, to quote
James Huneker, ‘has the courage of his chromatics,’ has made various
contributions to choral music, first among which is _Gurrelieder_, for
solos, chorus and orchestra, composed to a text by the Danish poet Jens
Peter Jacobsen, translated into German by Robert Franz Arnold. This
choral cycle, written somewhere between 1901 and 1908, belongs in the
second stage of the composer’s development and not in the third period
(from 1908 on), during which Schönberg ‘throws over almost everything
hitherto accepted, i. e., consonance, tonality, thematic use, form,
even program; and retains only rhythm and color, boldly calling this
music a mere emanation of himself, which has no relation to the
receptivities of his hearers.’[85]

The _Gurrelieder_ were heard in part, with piano accompaniment, in
London, in 1910. In 1913 a complete performance with the enormous
orchestra called for by the score (including 8 flutes, 5 oboes, 7
clarinets, 10 horns, 5 trumpets, 7 trombones, 6 kettle-drums, a number
of other instruments of percussion, 4 harps, celesta and strings with
as many individual players as possible) took place in Vienna. Opinion
is still largely divided as to the ultimate value of Schönberg’s work.
It is worthy of note, however, that Ernest Newman, in ‘The Musical
Times,’ January, 1914, speaks warmly of the _Gurrelieder_, which he
calls ‘the finest musical love-poem since "Tristan and Isolde."’

In addition to the _Gurrelieder_ we have from Schönberg’s pen the
sextet, opus 4, ‘Transfigured Night’ (First Period), which, although
not a choral work, is conceived chorally for the strings, and is a work
of exceeding beauty and original tonal combination worked out along
normal lines--an entire contrast to the _Pierrot lunaire_, a series of
melodramas of the most cataclysmic futurity, consisting of ‘three times
seven poems’ by Albert Giraud, with titles such as ‘The Red Mass,’
‘The Sick Moon,’ ‘A Beheading,’ ‘Gallows Song,’ ‘The Dandy,’ set for a
narrator, piano, flute (also piccolo), clarinet (also bass clarinet),
violin (also viola), and ‘cello.


                                   III

Though we have now considered those great figures which tower above
the general creative level in present-day choral writing in Germany,
there still remain a number of their contemporaries whose claims to
recognition cannot well be ignored.

Among them we find a group of composers who, like Reynaldo Hahn
and Gabriel Pierné in France, have chosen the Christmas legend for
musical treatment. And like Hahn, some of them have essayed to
develop text and music along lines of the mediæval mystery. Felix
Draeseke’s oratorio-tetralogy, _Christus_ (published 1905), a work
of splendid scope, falls short, in spite of much incidental beauty,
because of lack of dramatic movement and interest. More successful
has been Philip Wolfrum’s _Weinachtsmysterium_ (1898), an attempt to
revive the old German Christmas miracle-play, and partially employing
mediæval song and choral music as thematic material. The work shows
true musicianship, contrapuntal skill, and tact and intelligence in
welding together its ancient and modern component elements. Other less
pretentious ‘mysteries’ are Albert Fuchs’ _Selig sind, die in dem Herrn
sterben_ ‘Blessed are they who die in the Lord’, published in 1907;
and _Das tausendjährige Reich_ ‘The Millennial Kingdom’, published
in 1909. The first may be considered as belonging to the type of
_Traumdichtung_[86] (dream-poem) we owe to Elgar. Its music is modern,
imaginative and full of effect. Even more dramatic is ‘The Millennial
Kingdom,’ a succession of richly colored choral mood-pictures
portraying the believers of the year 999 looking forward to the last
day. This work, though essentially German, still shows the influence of
Pierné’s ‘Children’s Crusade,’ as does Wilhelm Platz’ _Gottes Kinder_
(‘God’s Children’), an emotional and effective cantata (1907).

August Bungert, in a larger choral three-part ‘mystery’ published in
1908, _Warum? Woher? Wohin?_ ‘Why? Whence? Whither?’, is not especially
happy in a semi-religious text that smacks of theological disquisition.
His scores contain some fine solos as well as choral movements, but are
not especially well balanced, and, despite the composer’s confessed
endeavor to make it another ‘German Requiem,’ it falls short of real
greatness.

Felix Woyrsch, however, whose secular oratorio _Tolentanz_, opus 50
(‘Dance of Death’), attains such a high level of individual expression,
shows but little originality in his early work, _Geburt Christi_
(‘Birth of Christ’), opus 18. It is evident, consulting the list of
his compositions, that it is the secular rather than the sacred that
appeals to him. Aside from a Passion Oratorio (opus 45), ‘The Birth
of Christ’ seems to be his only essay in church-music. We have on the
other hand: ‘Sapphic Ode to Aphrodite’ (soprano, women’s voices and
orchestra); a ‘German Hosting’ (solos, male chorus and orchestra); a
number of individual secular choruses and, lastly, ‘The Dance of Death.’

‘The Dance of Death’ is written for solos, chorus, orchestra and
organ, and is called a ‘mystery.’ Conceived as a great oratorio, it
stands for a distinct breaking away from older oratorio tradition and
is set to a text which strings together scenes from human life in
effective contrast. Its music is essentially modern in spirit, full
of tonal color and beauty, and logical despite excessive rhythmic
elaboration. Yet it does not keep to the level of inspiration
established by its best moments, and many sections voice a distinctly
popular appeal through a thin veil of musical modernism. In the case
of this work the titular use of the word _Mysterium_ is ‘merely a
beauty-plaster borrowed from the French mode,’[87] and the introduction
of humorous and other elements, which are not in keeping with the
serious and exalted style of the oratorio proper, tends to give it, in
spite of greater length and elaboration, the character of a cantata.
In this form, or rather in that of a programmatic choral ballad with
orchestra, Wilhelm Berger’s _Totentanz_, after Goethe’s poem, is
conceived. It is remarkably effective musically, and was one of the
numbers performed at the _Tonkünstlerfest_ at Frankfurt-on-the-Main in
1914.

Karl Adolf Lorenz’s oratorio _Das Licht_ (1907), a fine example
of restrained modernism and beautifully wrought choral writing,
and Friedrich E. Koch’s _Von den Jahreszeiten_ (‘Of the Seasons’),
essentially music written for effect, though attractive in much of
its detail, should also be instanced here. Some mention, too, should
be made of various prominent composers who, while their attention has
principally been held by other forms of composition, have nevertheless
contributed incidentally to modern German choral literature.

Ludwig Thuille, the late gifted composer of _Lobetanz_, wrote a
number of fine choruses for both male and female voices; Oscar Fried
has composed an _Erntelied_ (text by Metsche), opus 15, for male
chorus and orchestra, a work of intense, elemental power. Engelbert
Humperdinck, also, has written the choral ballads _Das Glück von
Edenhall_ (‘The Luck of Edenhall’) and ‘The Pilgrimage to Keevlar,’
the last a work of much simple beauty and charm. Gustav Mahler is
represented by his extended choral work, _Das klagende Lied_ ‘The
Sorrowing Song’; and Arnold Mendelssohn has created distinctive works,
both sacred and secular--the ‘Evening Cantata’ eight-part mixed chorus,
solo and orchestra, ‘Our Lord’s Sufferings’ (1900) and, in the same
year, ‘Resurrection.’ His secular choral works include a delightful
_Neckreigen_ (‘Teasing Round’) for mixed chorus and orchestra;
‘Spring’s Consecration,’ a hymn for solos, mixed chorus and orchestra;
and ‘The Tailor in Hell,’ a drastically humorous ballad for tenor solo,
chorus and orchestra.

Siegmund von Hausegger, too, has written various choruses with
orchestra accompaniment: ‘Voices of Evening,’ ‘Sunrise,’ ‘Reaper’s
Song’ (mixed), ‘New Wine Song,’ ‘Grief the Smith’ and ‘Dead March’
(male), and a ‘Nature Symphony’ (1911). Hugo Kaun is the author of
a ‘Norseman’s Farewell’--a larger choral work for baritone solo,
male chorus and orchestra--as well as of choruses for mixed and
female voices. And finally Hans Huber (a Swiss composer, it is true,
but educated in Leipzig, a representative of Teutonic ideals, and
influenced by Brahms) has created beautiful music in his ‘Songs
of Spring and Love,’ opus 72, for mixed chorus, solo quartet, and
four-hand piano accompaniment, and in his four-part settings from
Goethe’s _Westöstlichem Divan_, opus 69.

This study of contemporaneous choral composition in Germany might
fittingly conclude with a reference to the Dutch composers who have
been influenced, creatively, by the modern German spirit in choral
composition. Prominent among them are: Samuel de Lange, with an
oratorio in the grand style, ‘Moses’ (1889), original in idea but
traditional in form; ‘The Tear of a King,’ a ballad for soprano, mixed
chorus and orchestra (1913), as well as various shorter cantatas to his
credit; and G. H. G. von Brucken-Fock, composer of the introspective
choral oratorio, _De Wederkomst van Christus of het naderende Godsryk_
(1900). It contains a notable _Dies iræ_, ending with a double chorus
after the manner of those in Bach’s motets. The Belgian composers of
choral music, whose artistic affiliations are in general French rather
than German, will be considered elsewhere.


                              FOOTNOTES:

[84] _Musiciens d’Aujourd’hui_, Paris, 1908.

[85] _Zeitschrift der Internationalen Musik-Gesellschaft_, Feb., 1914,
London Notes, C. M., Leipzig.

[86] Schering: _Geschichte des Oratoriums_, p. 486.

[87] Schering: _Geschichte des Oratoriums_, p. 510.




                              CHAPTER XII

          CONTEMPORANEOUS CHORAL MUSIC IN ENGLAND AND AMERICA

     Elgar: ‘The Light of Life’; ‘The Dream of Gerontius’;
     ‘The Apostles’; ‘The Kingdom’; ‘The Music Makers’--Parry:
     ‘War and Peace’; ‘The Vision of Life’; ‘The Pied Piper of
     Hamelin’; Mackenzie; Cowen; Coleridge-Taylor--Bantock:
     ‘The Fire Worshippers’; ‘Omar Khayyam’ and other choral
     works--Holbrooke: ‘The Bells’, ‘Byron’ and other works;
     Grainger and others; Walford Davies: ‘Everyman’; ‘The Temple’
     and other works; minor English choral writers--Horatio
     Parker: ‘Morven and the Grail’ and smaller works; Chadwick:
     ‘Judith’ and ‘Noël’--Henry Hadley: ‘Merlin and Vivian’ and
     short works; F. S. Converse: ‘Job’; other American choral
     writers.


                                   I

Among the large group of British composers of the immediate present
the task of recording events of value and moment is rendered somewhat
easier by virtue of the fact that its dominating figure, Sir Edward
Elgar (born 1857), crossed the line into the twentieth century with
a well-defined style of individual expression and a clear title to
leadership, won through a noble series of both orchestral and choral
works. This series has been augmented during the first decade of
the century by works of such splendid proportions and such already
recognized importance that at least some of them may be regarded as
already occupying places of permanency for some time to come. As the
result of this leadership, there is discernible a distinct tendency to
regard Elgar as a kind of standard of measurement for British musical
values. So much is this true that we already hear of Elgarians and
post-Elgarians--for Elgar has by no means said the last word in British
music and a school of young composers is developing that is surely
destined to accomplish great things for musical England.

Elgar’s most important choral works since 1900 belong to the class of
religious music and all are deeply permeated with the same spirit of
mysticism that characterizes the religious music of Franck and other
devout modern adherents of the Roman Church; indeed, the Roman point of
view in interpreting the teachings of the Bible and the deep things of
life, is especially discernible in ‘The Apostles’ and ‘The Kingdom,’ as
well as in ‘The Dream of Gerontius.’

Elgar’s mode of musical speech is remarkable, even among present-day
colorists, for its wealth of color and its richness of tonal effects.
Yet he is no impressionist of the Debussy type; every detail of poetic
and imaginative suggestion is worked out with careful reference to
its own effectiveness as well as that of the larger units to which
it may belong. In his treatment of voice-parts there is a remarkable
fluency and independence that suggests the old ecclesiastical
methods. There is perfect correspondence, in all matters of verbal
accentuation, between melodic setting and rhetorical delivery. In
his marked preference for long lines of indefinite melodic structure
(absence of definite phrases), he closely allies himself not only with
the ‘Palestrina style’ but with the Wagnerian method of continuous
‘melos.’ His kinship with Wagner is further emphasized by the elaborate
employment of ‘leading motives’ in his largest works. In these motives,
however, he is not as fortunate as was Wagner in casting them in
distinct, individual, and easily-distinguishable forms. This defect
may be inevitable, perhaps, in treating sacred themes subject to so
many purely spiritual ramifications as Elgar indulges in. As in the
Wagnerian scheme, so in the Elgarian, the orchestra assumes a rôle
of utmost importance, frequently overtopping the choral forces and
appropriating for its own purposes the composer’s choicest melodies.
But Elgar’s mode of treating the orchestra on the whole differs
radically from Wagner’s because of the different points from which they
approached their tasks in their respective vocal works--Wagner from
the standpoint of dramatic effect, Elgar from the standpoint of pure
church-music. Hence in the three works above mentioned one finds, for
long stretches at a time, a spirit of lofty impersonality, an absence
of sensuous melodies, which tends to lull the mind of the listener into
a passive condition for receiving the impressions of the text, which is
by no means unlike the mental condition produced by listening to actual
liturgic music.

‘The Light of Life’ is Elgar’s first work in oratorio style and is
short--not as long as many sacred cantatas; yet its exceedingly serious
style precludes its being called a cantata. It received its initial
hearing at the Worcester Festival in September, 1896. The text by Rev.
E. Capel-Cure relates the gospel story of the man, blind from his
birth, whom Jesus healed. The persons represented are the mother of the
blind man (soprano), the narrator (contralto), the blind man (tenor)
and the Master (baritone).

After a meditative and melodious orchestral introduction the first
chorus, ‘Seek Him,’ is sung, by the Levites (male voices) in the Temple
courts. The blind man’s prayer for light is followed by a recitative
by the narrator. The disciples ask ‘Who did sin?’ which is directly
answered in an expressive aria sung by the mother, who asserts that
he has not been made to suffer this affliction because of the sins of
others. The Master then explains, ‘Neither hath this man sinned,’ after
which a broad, forcible chorus, ‘Light out of darkness,’ follows. The
eyes of the blind man are now anointed, he washes in the Pool of Siloam
and comes forth healed; then he is asked by his incredulous neighbors
and towns-people how this healing came. In the heated discussion
which follows, the music becomes very dramatic. After the blind man
has related his story, the Pharisees again enter into discussion, the
strife between those approving and those condemning the man being
described in a characteristic choral setting. Especially effective is
the orchestration in the scene in which the Jews question the mother
and the blind man. The strongest and most beautiful part of the work is
a solo sung by the Master, ‘I am the good shepherd,’ which soon leads
to the final chorus, ‘Light of the world,’ which, though short, is
permeated by a strongly triumphant feeling.

‘The Dream of Gerontius’ was written by Edward Elgar upon commission of
the Birmingham Festival Committee and performed on the morning of Oct.
3, 1900, at the Birmingham Triennial Festival. Although it was finished
for this particular occasion, it had been in the composer’s mind for
years and was, therefore, not thought out in haste, as has been the
case with many other occasional works. The poem by Cardinal Newman
relates the dream of Gerontius as he lies on his death-bed, the flight
of his soul to the realm of the unseen, its awakening with ‘a strange
refreshment’ as it is safely piloted before the Judge by the Angel, or
Soul’s Guardian Spirit, amid the hubbub of demons and the reassuring
voices of the angels--not, however, before it has been purified in the
waters of purgatory. This poem had made a profound impression upon
Elgar and the words and the music are so closely wedded that they seem
like twin-expressions of the same thought, both poet and composer
having approached their tasks from the standpoint of devout Catholics.

The work calls for only three soloists, mezzo-soprano, tenor and
bass, besides chorus and unusually large orchestra, the latter being
augmented by double bassoon, organ, gong and glockenspiel. The string
section is often divided into many parts, sometimes fifteen and even
twenty. Elgar employs many leading motives, characteristic of the
verbal ideas with which they are associated, the orchestral prelude
alone giving out ten important ones that foreshadow the scheme of the
work. In the work itself, as in all of Elgar’s later choral works,
all traces of the classical oratorio disappear and solo, choral and
orchestral parts follow each other without pause and with utmost
freedom of movement within clearly defined scenes or parts. His
part-writing is beautifully contrapuntal, but it rarely even approaches
fugal writing.

The first part reveals Gerontius (tenor) on his death-bed. As the
prelude closes, he sings ‘Jesu Maria, I am near to death,’ after which
a semi-chorus chants the _Kyrie eleison_. Gerontius is again heard
in the words ‘Rouse thee, my fainting soul,’ when a second chorus
responds in tender strains, ‘Be merciful.’ The holy man then sings with
deep feeling a longer solo, _Sanctus fortis_, and after an effective
orchestral interlude resumes with the words, ‘I can no more,’ in
which he expresses fear and horror at his own hallucinations. This is
followed by a short chorus, ‘Rescue him, O Lord,’ sung by the attendant
priests. Gerontius then sings his dying song, _Novissima hora est_,
and the following full chorus, ‘Go forth upon thy journey,’ brings the
first part to a close. The prelude to the second part pictures the
soul’s journey. Gerontius’ first utterance is in a dreamy solo, ‘I went
to sleep and now I am refreshed,’ after which the Guardian Angel sings
a lovely melody called the ‘Alleluia’--‘My work is done, my task is
o’er.’ After a dialogue between the Angel and the Soul, their flight
amid howling demons of darkness to the throne of God is pictured in a
vividly dramatic scene. The two again engage in dialogue, followed by
an impressive chorus of the Angelicals. The Angel then sings ‘We have
now passed the gate,’ and after further dialogue the chorus is heard
in ‘Glory to Him.’ Further passages between the Soul and the chorus
ensue, when the Angelicals join in an exultant chorus, ‘Praise to the
Holiest in the height.’ In the silence following, the Soul hears the
distant voices of men on earth. The Angel’s explanation of this is
interrupted by a virile bass solo sung by the Angel of Agony, ‘Jesu,
by that shuddering dread.’ The Angel then repeats the ‘Alleluia’ given
in Part I and continues, amid the choruses of Angelicals and souls in
purgatory, in a beautiful melody, ‘Softly and gently, dearly ransomed
soul,’ after which the work closes with the diminishing strains of the
chorus of the Angelicals, ‘Praise to the Holiest in the height.’


                                   II

‘The Apostles.’--This, the second of Elgar’s large oratorios and
certainly one of his best, was heard for the first time at the
Birmingham Festival, on Oct. 3, 1903. That Elgar had in mind the
writing of a trilogy, of which ‘The Apostles’ is the first part, is
evidenced by his statement in the preface of this work that he had long
desired ‘to compose an oratorio which should embody the calling of the
Apostles, their teaching (schooling) and their mission, culminating in
the establishment of the Church among the Gentiles. The present work
carries out the first portion of the scheme; the second portion remains
for a future occasion.’ The text is an unusually good one, Elgar
himself having spent years on its compilation from the Scriptures and
the Apocrypha. The personages represented are the Virgin and the Angel,
soprano; Mary Magdalene, alto; St. John, tenor; Jesus, St. Peter and
Judas, basses. The tenor acts also as narrator. The leading motive is
even more extensively used than in ‘The Dream of Gerontius,’ and the
orchestra, which is large and augmented by the shofar (ancient Hebrew
trumpet), presents the most important of the themes in the prelude,
thus making it a sort of musical epitome of the whole work. The text is
grouped into two large parts, with three scenes in the first part and
four in the second.

In the first scene of Part I, ‘The Calling of the Apostles,’ after the
statement that Jesus had spent the night in prayer on the mountain,
there follows the dawn, proclaimed by the watchers on the roof of the
Temple. The shofar, which announces the daybreak in Jewish synagogues,
at this point is heard in the orchestra. From within the Temple comes
the response, ‘It is a good thing to give thanks.’ The calling of
the apostles now follows and closes the scene. The second scene, ‘By
the Wayside,’ discloses Jesus teaching the people the Beatitudes.
The third scene, ‘By the Sea of Galilee,’ depicts the repentance and
regeneration of Mary Magdalene, which is one of the finest portions
of the work. It also sets forth Jesus’ calming of the storm and his
walking on the water. The second part begins with the fourth scene,
‘The Betrayal,’ which includes the scenes in Gethsemane, in the palace
of the High Priest and without the Temple. No other composer has
treated the betrayal at such length and it contains some of the most
touching passages of the whole work, among them the short chorus, ‘And
the Lord looked upon Peter and he went out and wept bitterly.’ In the
fifth scene, ‘Golgotha,’ Jesus’ words, ‘_Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?_’
are not spoken, but their meaning is poignantly expressed in a few
introductory measures by the orchestra, after which follows a short,
impressive choral phrase of four measures, ‘Truly this was the Son of
God.’ The sixth is a short scene ‘At the Sepulchre’ and the seventh
and last, ‘The Ascension,’ is characterized by remarkable ensemble
passages of great sonority, the voices being grouped as follows: ‘In
Heaven’ (mystic chorus of female voices in two groups) and ‘On Earth’
(four solo voices and male chorus of the apostles). This section is
quite long and elaborate and leads to a mighty ‘Alleluia,’ gradually
diminishing to a _pianissimo_ close.

‘The Kingdom,’ which Elgar wrote for and produced at the Birmingham
Festival, Oct. 3, 1906, is the second portion of the trilogy
anticipated in the composer’s preface to ‘The Apostles’--the third
portion, though promised, has not yet appeared. In order to set forth
the relation of the two works to each other, they were performed at
this festival in the order in which they were conceived. Much of the
‘leading motive’ material of ‘The Apostles’ is also used in ‘The
Kingdom,’ thereby establishing a close unity between the two works.
The oratorio, the religious theme of which is the establishment of the
Church at Jerusalem, consists of five divisions: (1) In the Upper Room;
(2) At the Beautiful Gate (The Morn of Pentecost); (3) Pentecost (In
the Upper Room. In Solomon’s Porch); (4) The Sign of Healing (At the
Beautiful Gate. The Arrest); (5) The Upper Room (In Fellowship. The
Breaking of Bread. The Prayers). The persons represented are The Virgin
Mary, soprano; Mary Magdalene, alto; St. John, tenor; and St. Peter,
bass; the chorus represents the disciples, the holy women and the
people.

After a long orchestral introduction, in which the important themes
are stated and developed, comes the opening chorus of disciples and
holy women together with the quartet of soloists, ‘Seek first the
Kingdom of God,’ as they are all gathered in the Upper Room. After
Peter leads in the celebration of the Eucharist by the breaking of
bread, they sing a hymn of praise and there follows a discussion, led
by Peter, as to the choosing of a successor to fill Judas’ place. The
second division opens with a duet of the two Marys at the Beautiful
Gate, leading directly into section three, ‘Pentecost,’ which is the
longest of the work and is ushered in by a tenor solo, stating that
they were ‘all with one accord in one place.’ The chorus of disciples
alternates with the mystic chorus of female voices, in a description of
the descent of the Holy Ghost, the music, with the added organ in the
accompaniment, being very effective. ‘In Solomon’s Porch’ sets forth
the ‘speaking in other tongues’ and Peter’s admonition, ‘Repent and be
baptized.’ The fourth section deals with the healing of the lame man
at the Beautiful Gate, after which Peter and John are arrested because
they preached the resurrection of Jesus, and here the music becomes
very dramatic. It closes with Mary’s lovely meditation, ‘The sun goeth
down,’ in which two old Hebrew hymns are used. The fifth section, with
the disciples and holy women again gathered in the Upper Room, opens
with a joyful, almost triumphant chorus, ‘The voice of joy is in the
dwelling of the righteous,’ after which follows ‘The Breaking of Bread’
and ‘The Lord’s Prayer.’ A quiet closing chorus, ‘Thou, O Lord, art our
Father,’ is sung by chorus and soloists.

‘The Music Makers,’ Elgar’s opus 69, published in 1912, is a setting
of an ode by Arthur O’Shaughnessy for contralto solo, chorus and
orchestra, the chorus bearing the brunt of the vocal work. An idea of
the content is given in the first stanza:

      ‘We are the music makers,
        And we are the dreamers of dreams,
      Wandering by the lone sea-breakers,
        And sitting by desolate streams;--
      Word-losers and world-forsakers,
        On whom the pale moon gleams;
      Yet we are the movers and shakers
        Of the world for ever, it seems,’

after which the achievements of the Music Makers are recited in the
building of ‘the world’s great cities’ and the fashioning of ‘an
empire’s glory.’ Especially significant is the stanza beginning:

      ‘A breath of our inspiration
        Is the life of each generation’;

and concluding with:

      ‘Till our dream shall become their present,
        And their work in the world be done.’

The work opens with an orchestral prelude, very melodious and noble in
style, which, after a strong climax, leads into the first chorus, ‘We
are the music makers.’ This enters softly and rises to tremendous force
at the words, ‘and shakers of the world for ever.’ The composition
abounds in striking contrasts of dynamics and rhythm, and while
portions of it are sung in a narrative manner, there are exceedingly
dramatic passages and in these Elgar calls the orchestra to his aid
most effectively. The whole work is grateful for singers and full of
color. Possibly the loveliest part of it is the section comprising
the fourth and fifth stanzas, beginning with the above quotation, ‘A
breath of our inspiration,’ and including the first contralto solo and
obbligato.


                                   III

The elder composers, who first set the stream of English music in the
direction of original forms of expression, have not been idle in the
years since 1900. Alexander C. Mackenzie (born 1847) contributed to
the Leeds Festival of 1904 a cantata, ‘The Witch’s Daughter,’ adapted
from Whittier; Henry Coward (born 1852) composed ‘Gareth and Linet,’ a
musical romance of large proportions based on Malory’s _Morte D’Arthur_
for the Sheffield Festival of 1902; and Frederick H. Cowen (born 1852)
wrote for the Cardiff Festival of 1900 an oratorio, ‘The Veil,’ the
text of which is taken from Robert Buchanan’s deeply mystical poem,
‘The Book of Orm,’ an apologia for the vindication of the ways of God
to man, justifying death and sorrow and evil. The work is divided into
the following sections: 1, The Veil Woven; 2, Earth the Mother; 3, The
Dream of the World without Death; 4, The Soul and the Dwelling; 5,
Songs of Seeking; 6, The Lifting of the Veil.

The veteran composer, C. Hubert H. Parry (born 1848), has been
the most active of this group, no less than three important choral
compositions having come from his pen in the first decade of the
century. ‘War and Peace’ (1903) is a symphonic ode (text by the
composer) in ten numbers, in which ‘the fallen angels, Pride and
Hate,’ are pictured as the arch-instigators of all strife. The
recompense comes after these furies have ‘drunk the lust of blood.’
Numbers entitled ‘Comradeship,’ ‘Home-Coming,’ ‘Song of Peace,’ and
‘Home,’ lead to a stirring and noble ‘Marching Song of Peace’ and a
final prayer, ‘Grant us Thy peace, Lord.’ The Norfolk and Norwich
Festival of 1905 brought out his setting in cantata form of Browning’s
well-known ‘The Pied Piper of Hamelin.’ Here the scholarly writer of
dignified choral counterpoint becomes genuinely humorous as the tale
unfolds how the rats ravaged ‘Hamelin town by famous Hanover city,’ a
characteristic little figure being used to portray the gnawing of the
rats. It is rather simple in style and an atmosphere of folk-melody
and legend pervades the work. ‘The Vision of Life,’ a symphonic poem
for soprano and bass solos, chorus and orchestra, received its first
performance at the Cardiff Festival, 1907. The poem by the composer
presents a vision of the course of man. Beginning with the savage
and cave-dweller, it pictures Greek culture with its worship of the
beautiful, the might of Rome with its passion for power which in time
gives way to the teachings of Christianity; then comes the mad fury of
the French Revolution, the oppression of the slave and the domination
of pride--and all finally ‘yields to the spirit of love and of truth’
and the vision pictures a future of peace when

      ‘Hope and helpfulness unwearied
      Make all the path a radiant mead;
      And brother sees in the eyes of brother
      The trust that makes toil’s best reward.’

The solo voices are The Dreamer and The Spirit of the Vision, and the
musical treatment of solo and choral parts is noble and masterful.

The untimely death of Samuel Coleridge-Taylor in 1912 (he was born
in 1875) cut short a career that began with unusual promise. Though
none of his later works possesses the spontaneity and musical charm
of the ‘Hiawatha’ cantatas, he has produced several fine choral works
since 1900. ‘The Blind Girl of Castél Cuillé,’ written for the Leeds
Festival of 1901, is a setting of Longfellow’s translation of a Gascon
poem which relates the story of a blind girl who was deserted by her
lover for another maiden and who, heart-broken, dies at the latter’s
wedding. ‘Meg Blane’ (a Rhapsody of the Sea by Robert Buchanan)
followed in 1902 and was first performed at the Sheffield Musical
Festival of the same year. The text weirdly describes the terrors of
the sea. ‘The Atonement,’ which closely follows the sequence of the
Gospel narratives of the Passion, was given at the Hereford Festival,
1903, and ‘Kubla Khan,’ by the Handel Society in 1906. The ‘Bon-Bon
Suite,’ which appeared in 1908, is a setting of six poems by Thomas
Moore for baritone solo, chorus and orchestra. The poems are ‘The Magic
Mirror,’ ‘The Fairy Boat,’ ‘To Rosa,’ ‘Love and Hymen,’ ‘The Watchman,’
and ‘Say, What Shall We Dance?’ The words of these poems have little
relationship to each other, though the key to the whole is probably in
the first poem, ‘The Magic Mirror.’ ‘Endymion’s Dream,’ for soprano and
tenor solos, chorus and orchestra, was published in 1910. The words are
by C. R. B. Barrett and are based on the ancient legend of Endymion,
originally a name for the Sun as he sinks into the sea. In the later
legend, Endymion, a priest of Jove, while sacrificing, prayed for
everlasting youth. This was granted, but coupled with eternal sleep.
Mercury carried him to Mount Latmos and Selene, the Moon Goddess,
nightly gazed down upon him lovingly. Coleridge-Taylor’s last cantata
was ‘A Tale of Old Japan,’ poem by Alfred Noyes, which was published
in 1911. It is the quaint, sad story of the unrequited love of little
Kimi for the great painter Sawara, and the music, which is rhapsodical
in character, is full of charming touches of ‘local color.’ Solo voices
take an important share of the work.


                                   IV

Granville Bantock, born Aug. 7, 1868, in London, is usually classed
as one of the ‘middle group’ of modern English composers, to which Sir
Edward Elgar belongs, in distinction to the so-called ‘post-Elgarians.’
Bantock is a composer endowed with vivid imagination and a strong and
distinct musical personality, exemplified in a number of important
works. He has written much for orchestra, notably the symphonic poems:
‘Thalaba the Destroyer’ (after Southey), given in London, 1902; ‘Dante
and Beatrice’ (Birmingham, 1903); the comedy-overture ‘The Pierrot of
the Minute,’ and the symphonic drama ‘Fifine at the Fair’ (Birmingham,
1912), and, aside from a number of other works, the two orchestral
scenes ‘Processional’ and ‘Yaga-Naut,’ fragments of a monster cycle,
‘The Curse of Kehama,’ never completed.

Bantock’s leaning toward Orientalism in his music is shown in his great
choral works as well as in his symphonic compositions. To say nothing
of his one-act opera ‘The Pearl of Iran,’ his six books of Oriental
songs (Arabian, Japanese, Egyptian, Persian, Indian, Chinese), his
‘Ferishtah’s Fancies’ (Browning), for soprano and orchestra, and the
‘Five Ghazals of Hafiz,’ for baritone and orchestra, we have his choral
works, ‘The Fire Worshippers’ and ‘Omar Khayyam,’ both constructed on
large lines.

‘The Fire Worshippers’ is a dramatic cantata in six scenes for chorus,
solos and orchestra, a work of considerable extent and making many
demands on the singers, whose story is laid in the ancient Persia of
the Magi. Its overture was performed, singly, in 1892, at a Royal
College of Music concert, but the work was not given in its entirety
until 1910. Though ‘rich in feeling and sumptuous in tissue, with a
curious blend of sensuousness and spirituality,’ it has never secured
the meed of favor accorded the composer’s ‘Omar Khayyam.’

In this work, ‘a union of inspired poetry with inspired music,’ to
quote Rosa Newmarch, we have the composer at his best. It presents
in a musical setting no less than 54 stanzas of ‘The Rubaiyat,’
about half the book, for a tremendous chorus, three solo voices and
a large orchestra. In his music Bantock has given these Epicurean
drinking-songs of Mohammedan Persia their inner spiritual significance.
He emphasizes their dramatic quality as songs of revolt against Koranic
law and idealizes them as a defiance of reason and nature against
religious bigotry. The work is inordinately long, judged by ordinary
standards, and difficult of performance; yet the composer’s tendency
toward frequent modulation is always balanced by a sure sense of beauty
and proportion. From the muezzin’s call to prayer at sunset ‘the work
moves on from mood to mood, from contrast to contrast--conflict and
repose, love and death, regnant glory and the dust of oblivion--in
a wonderful and strenuous comment on human existence.’ The more
directly lyric stanzas are assigned to the Poet (tenor) and the Beloved
(contralto); the philosophical reflections on the eternal ‘Yea and
Nay’ of human existence are placed in the mouth of the Philosopher
(baritone). The love duets, especially ‘When you and I behind the
veil,’ are rich in haunting charm, and the choruses glow with vivid
color. Bantock’s musical Orientalism is not a mere matter of externals,
of rhythms, of vocal arabesques and percussion-effects. It goes far
deeper and interprets the soul of the Orient as Pierre Loti has done
in his prose poems. And on hearing Bantock’s ‘Rubaiyat’ it seems, as
Mrs. Newmarch beautifully puts it, ‘as though the northern wind had
scattered a fresh shower of rose leaves upon the grave of Omar Khayyam.’

Nor has Bantock been insensible to the appeal of the myths of ancient
Hellas. A ‘choral symphony’ set to Swinburne’s beautiful ‘Atalanta
in Calydon,’ in twenty parts, _a cappella_, performed 1912 at the
Manchester Festival, bears witness to the fact. It is said to be the
most difficult work ever written for unaccompanied chorus, the final
movement in particular taxing the voices to the utmost. In it the
composer has blazed new paths of choral effect by means of groupings
of variously constituted choirs, and among other of its movements a
_scherzo_ for female voices is especially praised. Bantock’s other
secular choral works include: ‘The Time Spirit,’ a rhapsody for chorus
and orchestra (first heard at Gloucester Festival, 1904); three
‘Cavalier Tunes’ for male chorus, ‘God Save the King,’ for chorus and
orchestra, and various choruses for female and mixed voices, among
which might be mentioned ‘On Himalay,’ all fine examples of original
and harmonious part-writing.

In the field of sacred music Bantock has also been active. A ‘Mass
in B-flat major’ for male voices (1893), an anthem, a setting of the
82d Psalm, and the two oratorios ‘Christ in the Desert’ (Gloucester
Festival, 1907) and ‘Gethsemane,’ should be mentioned. Of these the
latter is the more important and was given at the Gloucester Festival
of 1910. An episode from the life of Christ, it has been written for
baritone solo, chorus, orchestra and organ to biblical words. A richly
ornamented orchestral prelude in A-flat is succeeded by a species of
symphony for baritone, orchestra and chorus in four sections: ‘In the
Garden,’ ‘The Agony,’ ‘The Prayer,’ ‘Betrayal.’ Rhythmic in movement
and clear in expression, its music is especially dramatic in the
‘Betrayal Scene,’ which leads over to a chorus followed by a short solo
and an eight-part choral finale.


                                   V

In Joseph Holbrooke, born July 6, 1878, in Croydon, we have, in
contrast to Bantock, a member of that ultra-modern English school of
composition of which Cyril Scott, ‘the English Debussy,’ is perhaps the
best known exponent. Holbrooke has attracted wide attention because
of his daring individuality and his boldness of invention, as well as
the disregard for convention shown in his brilliantly colored mode of
scoring for orchestra. He has chosen Edgar Allan Poe as his poet _par
excellence_ and his most important choral and orchestral works (among
the latter ‘The Raven’ (1900), ‘Ulalume,’ ‘The Haunted Palace,’ ‘The
Masque of the Red Death’) are associated with the verse of the American
poet.

At the Birmingham Festival of 1906 ‘The Bells,’ ‘the Mohammedan-hated
Bells’ of Poe and Holbrooke, jostled Bantock’s ‘Omar Khayyam,’ when
heard for the first time. With remarkable breadth of tonal laying-out,
and an incessant employment of chords of the eleventh and thirteenth,
the resonant clamor of the bells is brought out in the work with
clever programmatic effect, in perfect accord with Poe’s words. A
long orchestral prelude leads weirdly over into the first chorus, in
A minor. Following this come four choral numbers, ‘Sledge-Bells,’
‘Wedding-Bells’ (female voices), ‘Alarm Bells’ and ‘Iron Bells,’ each
ringing the changes on the titular suggestion in appropriate tonal
inflections. Holbrooke’s choral effects throughout are incisive and are
heightened by a remarkable fidelity to his text.

‘Byron’ (Poem No. 6) for chorus and orchestra, given at Leeds,
Dec. 7, 1904, is a setting of Keats’ ‘Sonnet to Byron,’ beginning
‘Byron, how sweetly sad thy melody.’ As regards form it is modelled
somewhat on Beethoven’s ‘Choral Symphony,’ but the orchestra is more
continuously active and its relation to the poem more intimate. The
orchestra section, in fact, is about half the work and it may be played
separately as a symphonic poem without its choral complement, a _coda_
being provided for the purpose. There is some beautiful passage-work
for the clarinet in the orchestral score and the part-writing is worthy
of all praise.

‘Queen Mab’ (Poem No. 5) for chorus and orchestra, also heard at
Leeds (1904), is only incidentally choral and interest is largely
centred in the orchestral part. The ‘Dramatic Choral Symphony’
(homage to E. A. Poe), written around quotations from Poe’s writings
and philosophical in trend, may be said to suffer to some extent
from the difficulty of effectively setting philosophical reflection
to music. This disadvantage is even more marked in ‘Apollo and the
Seaman,’ a ‘Dramatic Symphony with Choral Ending for Male Choir,’
which was produced in Queen’s Hall, London, in 1908. To quote a French
critic:[88] ‘Mr. Holbrooke, eager to show his originality, had this
“illuminated symphony” given in quite a special way. Scriabine had
already added chord projections of light to his orchestra, and thought
of joining perfumes to them in his future scores. Mr. Holbrooke was
content with a projection of the magic-lantern kind. Queen’s Hall
was plunged into obscurity and the text of Mr. Trench’s poem was
projected on the sheet, Mr. Holbrooke’s chords sounding forth in the
meantime. Then, announced by the stroke of a gong, there appeared an
enormous head of Apollo and, after a long pedal-point suggesting the
beginning of _Rheingold_, the seance went on, proving conclusively
that there is nothing less musical (save possibly Nietzsche) than this
dialogue between a sailor and Apollo, disguised as a merchant, upon the
immortality of the soul and other poetic topics.’

Joseph Holbrooke has written a number of individual anthems and
choruses in addition to these larger works, among them the ‘dramatic
choral song (No. 2)’ entitled ‘To Zanthe’ (words by Poe), not to forget
the choruses in his opera ‘The Children of Don and Dylan.’ That his is
a great talent is not to be denied; yet the consensus of opinion seems
to agree that he has not as yet ‘found’ himself.

Before passing on to a consideration of the work of Henry Walford
Davies, whose musical sympathies are those of the Elgarian school
rather than those of the English modernists, we will refer, briefly, to
the choral compositions of the younger English followers of Scott and
Holbrooke.

Gustav von Holst, born 1874, in Cheltenham, a pupil of Stanford,
has written some notable works: an _Ave Maria_ for eight-part female
chorus; female choruses with orchestra in the masque ‘The Vision of
Dame Christian’ (1909); various cantatas and a fine tetralogy of
settings from the sacred books of India, the hymns from the Rig-Veda,
for chorus and orchestra.

Percy Grainger, born July 8, 1882, at Brighton, near Melbourne,
Australia, has also contributed some charming lighter numbers, in
unusual combinations, to modern English choral literature. Among them
are his Kipling Choruses: the ‘Father and Daughter,’ the old Faröe
Island ballad, arranged for five solo voices (male), chorus, strings,
brass, mandolins and guitars; and the sparkling ‘Strathspey,’ combined
with several jigs and the fine old sea chanty, ‘What shall we do with
a drunken sailor,’ sung by male quartet to the accompaniment of eight
strings, two guitars, xylophone, flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon and
concertina.

Ralph Vaughan Williams, born at Down Amprey, Oct. 12, 1872, supplies,
as it were, a connecting link between the Elgarians and the
post-Elgarians, the more academic and the more revolutionary among
present-day English composers. His principal choral works are: ‘Willow
Wood,’ a cantata (Liverpool, 1909), and two extended compositions for
voices and orchestra, ‘A Sea Symphony’ and ‘Toward the Unknown Regions’
(Leeds Festival, 1907), both to poems by Walt Whitman, who with
Williams seems to take the place that Poe does with Holbrooke.

In Henry Walford Davies, born Sept. 6, 1869, at Ostwestry, we have
another composer of serious choral music along traditional lines,
yet one not unaffected by modern tendencies. His music is rich in
expression, artistic conscientiousness and idealism, and his two
most important works are undoubtedly the oratorio ‘The Temple,’ and
‘Everyman,’ a musical setting of a mediæval morality, the original
suggestion for which, like that of similar choral works in modern
Germany, no doubt came from France. The text, with few exceptions, has
been taken from the old English morality play: God commands Death to
bring Everyman (that is, Man in general) before Him for judgment. In
vain Everyman seeks companions among his servants, friends and ‘the
rich’ for a journey whence none return; yet at length finds ready to
accompany him (after lengthy moral disquisitions) comrades in the shape
of ‘Good Deeds,’ ‘Knowledge,’ ‘Discretion,’ ‘Strength,’ ‘Beauty’ and
‘Five Wits.’ The choral music throughout is spontaneous, vivid and
realistic. ‘Everyman’ was composed for the Leeds Festival of 1904,
at which it scored a marked success. A short prelude of thirty-two
measures is the keynote to the entire work and leads directly to a
prologue (addressed to the audience), delivered by bass, contralto,
soprano and tenor. The chorus of ‘laughing, feasting rich men,
reclining upon their cushions, is a splendid bit of musical realism,
which shows better than any theoretical disquisition how standards
of taste in English oratorio have satisfactorily rid themselves of
Puritanic influences in the course of years.’[89] Davies’ biblical
oratorio, ‘The Temple’ (Worcester Festival, 1902), is an oratorio
pure and simple, austerely beautiful and rather complex in its choral
writing, but lacking, perhaps, the inspirational freshness of its more
dramatic successor. ‘The Song of Thanksgiving’ is generally considered
the finest single number in the score.

Davies has also composed: ‘Hervé Riel’ (Browning) for baritone solo,
chorus and orchestra (Royal College of Music, 1895); ‘Four Songs
of Innocence’ (part-songs for female voices, 1894); ‘Ode to Time’
(baritone solo, chorus and orchestra) and ‘Noble Numbers’ (a cycle of
18 songs for solo voices, chorus and orchestra); ‘The Three Jovial
Huntsmen’ (cantata with orchestra, 1900); a ‘Morning and Evening
Service’ and a ‘Cathedral Service’ and ‘Lift up your hearts’ (Hereford
Music Festival, 1906).

Among other names which seem to call for mention in connection with
recent English choral writing are: Bradley Rootham (a fine cantata
to Charles Kingsley’s ‘Andromeda,’ for solos, chorus and orchestra);
Alexander M. McLean (a cantata, ‘The Annunciation,’ influenced by
Reger, 1909); Henry Wood (‘Elijah,’ 1902); Alfred Herbert Brewer
(‘The Holy Innocents,’ oratorio, 1904, ‘Emmaus’); Harvey Lohr, F. W.
Humberston and C. Lee Williams.


                                   VI

Conditions in contemporaneous American choral writing are quite
analogous to those in England. Several of our most prominent choral
writers had already won substantial recognition before the twentieth
century opened. Foremost among these elder composers who have continued
to write in the concert forms of oratorio and cantata are George
W. Chadwick (born 1854) and Horatio W. Parker (born 1863). But a
host of younger composers has arisen to seek artistic preferment in
this field. This augmented interest is no doubt due in part to the
remarkable increase in the number of choral societies in the United
States beginning in the last decade of the nineteenth century and the
consequent increase in the demand for choral novelties; but it is due
in still larger part to the increased interest in composition itself
in the United States, an interest that has been fostered and nourished
by a noticeably greater willingness on the part of the American public
in the most recent years to receive with some favor really meritorious
works by native composers. This meed of home recognition, the greatest
possible stimulus to all creative purpose, will no doubt increase in
measure with the years.

Horatio Parker has added several to his already long list of choral
works given in Chapter VI: ‘King Gorm the Grim’ (1908), a fiery choral
ballad on a Danish theme (words after Theodor Fontane); ‘The Leap of
Roushan Beg’ (1913), a ballad for men’s voices with tenor solo (poem
by Longfellow); ‘Alice Brand’ (1913), a short cantata for three-part
female chorus with solos (poem by Sir Walter Scott); and ‘A Song of
Times,’ a short cantata for chorus and orchestra.

In ‘Morven and the Grail,’ Parker has produced his largest choral
work since the _Hora Novissima_ and ‘Legend of St. Christopher.’
This oratorio was written for the Centenary Festival of the Handel
and Haydn Society of Boston, April 11-15, 1915. It calls for four
soloists--Morven, baritone; Sigurd, tenor; St. Cecilia, soprano; Our
Lady, alto; Angels of the Grail, a second solo quartet. The poem by
Brian Hooker is a work of unusual charm and has accompanying it a
quaint synopsis of the story, relating how ‘Morven, seafaring upon
the quest of the Grail, heareth the Angels thereof calling to him,
and will follow the world’s dream even unto the end of the world. He
cometh to Avalon, the heaven of Pleasure, and there for a time abideth
in bliss.’ But hearing Sigurd, the Volsung, riding against the Dragon
and realizing that man can not be content forever in joy, he departeth
and cometh to Valhalla of the Old Gods, where he abideth in glory
until, ‘hearing in his soul as it were the voice of St. Cecilia hymning
Christ her Lord,’ he proceedeth to the Saints in Paradise, the heaven
of holiness, where again for a time he abideth in peace. In spirit he
heareth ‘Our Lady communing with her child new-born into the world’ and
learneth that man may not forever content himself at rest and that the
desire of the soul is not to be found in Paradise, nor in any place,
but that it followeth everywhere; ‘wherefore he will depart out of that
heaven to be born again and become as a little child.’ The heavens
being then opened to him, in a vision he heareth the song of the Grail
and the Angels singing of man, living on ‘between Hell and Heaven in
wonder everlasting.’ The closing argument is as follows: ‘And forasmuch
as God of His own heart so imagineth all things that they die and
rise again, therefore shall the earth declare the glory of God, world
without end.’

George W. Chadwick has written in nearly all the larger forms of
choral, orchestral and chamber music. In the opening years of the
century he wrote two choral works of large dimensions, ‘Judith’ and
‘Noël,’ both in oratorio form, though the action of the first is so
intense and dramatic that it could well be performed with full operatic
machinery. Both are conceived in the form of the classical oratorio,
though Chadwick’s musical vocabulary is clearly modern, his harmony
being rich, warm and distinctly individual. ‘Judith’ is a work of
massive proportions, one of the few great choral works yet produced
in America. ‘Noël’ is simpler in structure, yet contains numbers of
compelling beauty.

‘Judith,’ a lyric drama in three acts, was published in 1901.
The persons represented are Judith, mezzo-soprano; Achior, tenor;
Holofernes, baritone; Ozias, bass; and Sentinel, tenor. The text by
William Chauncey Langdon is cast in three acts. The first, in Bethulia,
pictures the sorrows of Israel beset by Asshur’s host, to which the
Israelites are about to yield when the entreaties of Ozias persuade
them to trust the Lord five days longer. Judith relates her vision, in
which her departed husband directs her to save her people by destroying
Holofernes. The second act brings her to the camp of Holofernes, who
is completely infatuated with her beauty. She insists upon becoming
his cup-bearer, and after he has partaken too freely of wine, she
(still responding to the vision) slays him with his own sword and
conceals his head in the folds of her dress as she passes the guards,
whom Holofernes had commanded to let her pass freely in and out. The
third act begins with her return to Bethulia just as Ozias once more
kneels at the wall, praying for deliverance. As she shows the head of
Holofernes there is great rejoicing and the victory of the Israelites
over the Assyrians is proclaimed.

‘Noël,’ a Christmas pastoral for four solos, chorus and orchestra,
was written for the Litchfield County (Conn.) University Club and
published in 1909. The text is compiled from various sources, most
of which are named. The work consists of twelve numbers, besides an
orchestral prelude entitled ‘The Star.’ No. 1 is a chorus, ‘This is the
month’ (words by Milton); No. 2, ‘From the eastern mountains’ (words by
Thwing), depicts the journey of the Wise Men; No. 3, ‘Long and darksome
was the night,’ is an alto solo (words by Ray Palmer, 1830); No. 4 is
a chorus for female voices, _Parvum quando cerno Deum_, the authorship
of the Latin text being unknown; No. 5 is a bass solo, ‘I was a foe to
God,’ words by Torsteegen, 1731; and No. 6 a chorus of praise, ‘Praise
Him, O ye heaven of heavens,’ with words by Prudentius, A. D. 405.
No. 7 begins the second part with ‘While to Bethlehem we are going,’
for alto solo and chorus, words by Violante de Ceo, 1601; No. 8 is a
soprano solo, ‘Hark! a voice from yonder manger,’ words by Gerhardt,
1656; No. 9 is a carol from the Latin of the fourteenth century, ‘A
child is born in Bethlehem,’ which can be sung unaccompanied; No. 10
is a tenor solo, ‘O holy Child, Thy manger streams,’ words from the
Danish; No. 11, a quartet, ‘Hither come ye heavy-hearted,’ words by
Gerhardt, 1656; and the last number, ‘How lovely shines the morning
star,’ words by Nikolai, 1597, is a stately chorale and fugue for
chorus and quartet.


                                   VII

Henry K. Hadley (born 1871) is prominent among the group of younger
Americans who have assiduously cultivated choral writing, having
published seven or eight choral works of varying size, up to the
present time (1915). His first cantata was ‘In Music’s Praise,’
which won the prize offered in 1901 by the Oliver Ditson Company,
music-publishers. This was followed in 1904 by ‘A Legend of Granada,’
a cantata for women’s voices with soprano and baritone solos (words
by Ethel Watts Mumford). Four other cantatas for women’s voices with
various solo parts succeeded this one--‘The Fate of Princess Kiyo’
(1907), a legend of Japan (words by Edward Oxenford); ‘The Golden
Prince’ (1914); ‘The Nightingale and the Rose’ (1911); and ‘The
Princess of Ys.’

Hadley’s longest choral work is the lyric drama ‘Merlin and Vivian’
(1907), to the poem by Ethel Watts Mumford, an ambitious composition
calling for the full resources of solo, choral and orchestral forces.
It is in three parts, whose scenes are laid respectively on the ‘Isle
of Avalon,’ at King Arthur’s court, and at Castle Joyousguard. The
characters are Morgan-le-Fay, the enchantress, Queen of Avalon; Vivian,
the sorceress; King Arthur; Merlin, the enchanter, Arthur’s councilor;
Adrihim, the spirit of the architect of King Suleiman; and Ariel, the
spirit of music and light.

Frederick Shepherd Converse (born 1871), after several orchestral
works in the larger forms, entered the choral field with a composition
of oratorio dimensions, ‘Job,’ a dramatic poem for solos, chorus and
orchestra, which was composed for the fiftieth annual festival of
the Worcester (Mass.) Musical Association in 1907. The text is taken
from Job and the Psalms in the Vulgate. accompanied with an English
paraphrase. The characters represented are Job, tenor; his Friend,
baritone; a woman of Israel, mezzo-soprano; and the voice of Jehovah,
bass; the chorus represents the voices of prayer and adoration. A
preface to the work points out that ‘the dramatic motive of the poem
is the development of the moods of Job, distress under suffering,
rebellion, doubt, and final submissive understanding of the will
of God. In emotional contrast with him is the Woman of Israel, who
represents the spirit of unquestioning faith. The Friend stands, like
the three friends of the Bible story, for the spirit of conventional
piety. The chorus represents superhuman voices, which declare the glory
of God; against their sustained mood of adoration and praise beats
the contest of human emotions. The impersonal universal spirit of the
chorus is conveyed in the music by simple diatonic harmonies, the warp
upon which the solo parts are woven in modern chromatic design.’

Other choral compositions by Converse are a ‘Serenade’ (1908) for
soprano and tenor solos, male chorus and small orchestra (text by John
Macy) and ‘The Peace Pipe’ (1915), a cantata for baritone solo, mixed
chorus and orchestra to text from Longfellow’s ‘Song of Hiawatha.’
Longfellow, who has probably furnished more texts for cantatas and
choral ballads than any other one poet, is also drawn upon by Carl
Busch for his cantata, ‘The Four Winds’ (1907) (again from ‘The Song
of Hiawatha’), a lengthy work calling for soprano and tenor solos with
chorus.

Rossetter Gleason Cole (born 1866), in his lyrical idyl, ‘The Passing
of Summer’ (1902), written to a libretto by Elsie Jones Cooley,
presents a pastoral scene in which two lovers go forth at the dawning
of summer’s last day and witness gracious Summer’s farewell to all
her children--the summer winds, the falling leaves, the soft-hued
flowers--but as evening falls they rejoice that love’s flower, which
Summer had planted in their hearts, dies not. The score, which is
quite lengthy, demands soprano, tenor and contralto solos, chorus and
orchestra.

David Stanley Smith (born 1877) appears among the list of choral
writers with two short works--‘The Logos’ (The Word is Made Flesh),
published in 1908, which is a Christmas cantata for three solo voices
(The Logos, the Angel Gabriel and Mary) and chorus of angelic voices
and voices from earth; and ‘God our Life’ (1906), a sacred cantata for
general use.


                              FOOTNOTES:

[88] _Les Post-Elgariens_, par X.-M. Boulestin, S. I. M., Jan., 1914.

[89] Schering: _Geschichte des Oratoriums_, pp. 591-592.




                             CHAPTER XIII

   CONTEMPORARY CHORAL MUSIC IN FRANCE, ITALY, RUSSIA AND ELSEWHERE

     Debussy: _L’enfant prodigue_, _La demoiselle élue_ and _Le
     martyre de Saint-Sébastien_; Reynaldo Hahn: _La pastorale
     de Noël_; Gabriel Pierné: _La croisade des enfants_; _Les
     enfants de Bethlehem_; _Les fioretti de Saint-François
     d’Assisi_--Florent Schmitt: Psalm XLVII; Vincent d’Indy:
     _Chant de la cloche_, etc.--Renaissance of oratorio in Italy;
     Perosi and his oratorios; Bossi: _Canticum canticorum_; _Il
     Paradiso perduto_; Wolf-Ferrari: _La Vita Nuova_ and other
     works--Scandinavia; choral music in Russia; Moussorgsky;
     Rimsky-Korsakoff; Glazounoff; Glière; Arensky and others;
     choral composition in Poland, Bohemia, Hungary, Spain.


                                   I

The choral music of contemporary France has its immediate origin in
the recent past. In particular the oratorio and sacred cantata may be
said to represent the larger fruition of what Romain Rolland calls
‘the new religious art which has sprung up since the death of César
Franck, around the memory of that great musician.’ Pierné, d’Indy,
Schmitt--some of the most distinctive composers of modern France--have
been influenced by the Belgian master in a greater or less degree.
Hence it is not strange that the best-known French choral works of the
present day in the larger forms are of a religious or quasi-religious
nature.

Thus, even in the case of Debussy (less directly influenced by
Franck than any of his contemporaries), we find that two of his three
principal choral works, the lyric scene _L’enfant prodigue_ and the
‘mystery’ _Le martyre de Saint-Sébastien_, are developments of Biblical
and hagiographic text-motives. And even in his _Damoiselle élue_, a
cantata for female voices with solos, the heroine of Rossetti’s famous
poem (to a French paraphrase of which Debussy has written his score)
looks down from the ramparts of her pre-Raphaelite paradise.

In _L’enfant prodigue_ (Roman Prize, 1884), its composer does not
as yet inaugurate those radical changes which were to find complete
expression in his later works. It may be briefly described as a simple
and expressive miniature oratorio, including duets, trios, a cleverly
written _cortège_ and dance, whose frequent recitative anticipates the
melodic declamation employed in _Pelléas et Mélisande_.

But when Debussy sent in his _Damoiselle élue_ (first published in
1887) from Rome, the departure, from accepted standards was more
marked. Its music is rich in delicate imagery and attention to detail,
orchestral and vocal, yet despite its subtle expression of the yearning
of the translated for the one left behind on earth--the chorus of
sopranos descending in flexible, fluid cadences as the Blessed Damozel
‘leans out from the gold bars of Heaven’ and ‘casts her arms along the
golden barriers’--the customary public hearing accorded ‘works sent
from Rome’ was denied it in Paris. Since then, however, its composer
has not had to complain of a lack of performances.

It is the five-act mystery _Le martyre de Saint-Sébastien_, given
in 1911 at the _Châtelet_ theatre in Paris, which is Debussy’s most
ambitious and individual contribution to the literature of the
newer French choral art, though the music is really incidental to
D’Annunzio’s drama. In general, the greatest French critics paid
tribute to the merits of the work. Alfred Bruneau spoke of ‘its
clarity, serenity and strength,’ insisting that while the composer had
hitherto given his attention mainly to the instrumental forms, he had
attained new power in the choral portions of _Le martyre_. He dwells
on the beauty of the lament of the women at Sébastien’s death, and the
‘vast and magnificent’ final _alleluia_. Pierre Laloy does not share
Bruneau’s enthusiasm for the choral close. He admits its ‘occasional
Palestrinian character,’ but deprecates the intrusion of trifling
motives evidently used for effect alone. Robert Broussel counts the
four Preludes, hieratic and voluptuous, among Debussy’s most finished
pages. Reynaldo Hahn laments a lack of continuity in the score. Yet all
critics agree, in the main, on the interest and artistry of the score,
in which the religious feeling is strongly and definitely marked.

This concludes the tale of the composer’s choral compositions of a
religious nature, but no mention of Debussy’s activity in the choral
field would be complete without a reference to his lovely _a cappella_
choruses, _Chansons de Charles d’Orleans_, practically the only secular
music for chorus which he has written, but music well worth careful
study.

Notwithstanding the religious expressiveness which permeates _Le
martyre_, as witness the musical treatment of its last scene in which
paradise unfolds its gates amid a golden glory of angel hosts, it
is Gabriel Pierné whose scores are the most successful examples of
oratorio composition in modern France. Reynaldo Hahn, it is true, in
a manner anticipated Pierné’s _Enfants de Bethlehem_ in 1901, with a
Christmas oratorio, _Pastorale de Noël_, written upon the text of one
of the great passion-mysteries of the thirteenth century, using the
actual mediæval words and thus projecting the liturgic drama of the
Middle Ages into the present day. Yet his work has never attained that
wider public recognition accorded Pierné’s oratorios.

On these rest the latter’s fame, though he has written a secular
cantata, _Edith_ (1882), and a prize symphony for chorus and orchestra,
_L’an mil_. _La croisade des enfants_ (known throughout this country
as ‘The Children’s Crusade’), _Les enfants de Bethlehem_ and, finally,
_Les fioretti de Saint-François d’Assisi_, are his chief works.

The ‘Children’s Crusade’ and the ‘Children of Bethlehem’ are
‘mysteries,’ but not in the sense of Debussy’s impressionistic
_Martyre_, or Hahn’s mediæval Christmas ‘Miracle.’ The ‘Children’s
Crusade’ has been set to a libretto after Marcel Schwob’s poetic story;
the ‘Children at Bethlehem,’ to a poem by Gabriel Nigond. Both scores
are musically full of color and rich in pictorial detail, employing the
folk-song thematically. Their great effect lies in the introduction of
the children’s chorus as a strong factor in the musical development
of the oratorio. The criticism has been made,[90] in particular with
regard to the ‘Children’s Crusade,’ that the picturesque mingling
of male choruses, female choruses, solo voices, humming choruses,
echo choruses, voices from above and from the distance, together
with the choruses of children and full orchestra in a succession of
nerve-stimulating episodes, seems due to deliberate calculation,
speculating on the emotional and nervous sensibility of the general
public, and that as a consequence the music lacks genuine intimacy
and warmth. Be this as it may, the composer has been superlatively
successful in creating works whose performance awakens widespread
pleasure and appreciation.

In _Saint-François d’Assisi_, set to a poem by Gabriel Nigond after
‘The Little Flowers of St. Francis,’ Pierné again uses Christian
legendary material. His music portrays, with less of austere dignity
and serious depth than Tinel’s famous ‘Franciscus,’ yet with a more
melodious facility of touch, the life-cycle of the sermonizer of
the birds and founder of the order which bears his name. Like its
predecessors, it has much spiritual charm and delicacy of expression;
as in them, the standpoint of tonal effect is kept well in view
and--another resemblance--the score has been successful, though not,
perhaps, in the same degree as the others. Still, Pierné’s writing has
not the dramatic power and individual flavor to be found in the works
of some of his _confrères_.


                                   II

Notable among these is Florent Schmitt, a pupil of Gabriel Fauré (who,
by the way, has contributed to French choral literature some charming
shorter works--_La naissance de Vénus_, _Les Djinns_, and _Madrigal_).
_Danse des Devadesis_ is especially notable for brilliant color and
subtly suggestive rhythms. Florent Schmitt’s _Tragédie de Salomé_ in
its symphonic form is well known to the American concert-goer, but the
same cannot be said of his ‘Psalm XLVII,’ for orchestra, organ, chorus
and solo voices, though it exists in an edition with English text, and
is a musically distinctive and original work. Its keynote is praise and
joy, and it bids ‘the people clap their hands’ and proclaims that ‘the
fields of the earth belong to the Lord’ with real dramatic effect and
vigor.

It is in the work of Vincent d’Indy, principal heritor of the musical
and spiritual legacy of César Franck, that a more conservative
standpoint makes itself felt. And this is only natural, when we
consider that the counterpoint of the sixteenth century is the point
of departure of the composer’s own creative activity. He stands for
the classic tradition persisting along modern lines of development.
His sympathies are with Wagner rather than Debussy, and in his operas
or, as he terms them, ‘dramatic actions,’ _Fervaal_ and _L’Etranger_,
he merges Wagnerian practice and his individual concept with effective
results, though with a rejection of all that atmospheric vagueness
which makes the charm of _Pelléas_.

His best known choral work is _Le chant de la cloche_ (‘Song of the
Bell’), awarded a prize by the City of Paris in 1885. This is a
dramatic legend, opus 18, for chorus, solos and orchestra, broad in
outline, rich in detail, Wagnerian in structure, yet the composer’s own
in thematic content. The orchestra is handled with great brilliancy. A
later work, opus 23, _Sainte-Marie Magdeleine_, a cantata for two solo
voices, female chorus and accompaniment of harmonium and piano, is a
work of the type of Debussy’s _Enfant prodigue_, a miniature oratorio
intended to form part of an evening’s concert-program. It is needless
to add that, musically, it shows no semblance to Massenet’s oratorio
of the same name. We have also by d’Indy _La Chévauchée du Cid_, a
Hispano-Moorish scene for baritone, chorus and orchestra; a ‘Festival
Cantata’ for inaugural purposes; an _Ode à Valence_, for solo, chorus
and orchestra; and _L’Art et le Peuple_, for four-part male chorus.

For some time d’Indy has been working upon a dramatic choral work on
an extended scale, _La légende de Saint-Christophe_ (a subject which
Rheinberger and Horatio Parker have already treated in oratorio form),
and it is said to be nearing completion. It will be looked forward
to with interest, especially as it represents one of the composer’s
periodical returns from symphonic to choral composition.

While the works of the composers already discussed may be said to
represent the most important achievements in contemporary French
choral writing, a number of others have been more or less active in
the same field. Among these are: Gustave Charpentier (tone-drama, _La
vie du poete_, 1892), the late Augusta Holmès (_Hymne à Apollon_,
dramatic scene, and _Nocturne_, both for baritone solo and chorus.
_Danse d’Almées_, for contralto solo and chorus, and ‘The Vision
of the Queen,’ scene for solos and female chorus); C. de Grandval
(_Sainte Agnes_, dramatic cantata, 1892); Bourgault-Ducoudray (_Esprit
de la France_, for mixed chorus) and others; but in general the
ultra-modernists, Ravel, Dukas, Magnard, and others have neglected the
domain of choral for that of symphonic composition.

In Belgium contemporary choral composition since Peter Benoît has
been influenced by the Neo-French school. We have G. L. Huberti’s _De
laatste Zonnestraal_ (1892) and (in manuscript) _Verlichtung_ (1882),
_Bloemardinne_ and ‘Death of William of Orange,’ A greater tone-poet
is Émile Mathieu, with three secular choral works, _Le Hoyoux_, _Le
Sorbier_ and _Freyhir_ (1893). Jan Blockx’s cantatas are mostly founded
on national episodes. Among them are: _Vredezang_, _Het droom van’t
paradies_, _Clokke Roelandt_, _Scheldezang_ (1903). The ‘Roland’
cantata is his best-known choral number. Edgar Tinel’s dramatic
oratorio, _Franciscus_ (1888), is the greatest choral work the Flemish
school has produced. It has been more fully noted in Chapter IX.


                                   III

In Italy the renaissance of choral composition might be said to
begin in 1898, with Don Lorenzo Perosi’s appointment as director of
the Sistine Chapel in Rome. In his sacred trilogy, _La Passione di
Cristo_, comprising (a) _La Cena del Signore_, (b) _L’Orazione del
Monte_, (c) _La Morte del Redentore_ (performed for the first time
at Milan, 1899, at the Italian Congress of Sacred Music), and in his
oratorios, _La Transfigurazione del Nostro Signor Gesù Cristo_ (1898),
_La Risurrezione di Lazaro_ (1898), _Il Natale del Redentore_ (1899),
_Mosè_, and _Il Giudizio Universale_ (1903), all written in a style
‘made up of all styles and ranging from the Gregorian chant to the
most modern modulations,’[91] he shows deep melodic instinct, richness
of melodic invention, and a strong dramatic veritism which has done
much to make them popular in Italy. ‘Each of the oratorios,’ to quote
again the great French critic, ‘is really a descriptive mass, which
from beginning to end traces out one dominating thought.’ Critics in
general are still divided as to the ultimate value of his music; but
its sincerity and strength of purpose are unquestioned.

Of greater importance than Perosi’s disciples Giovanni Tebaldini
(_Le Nozze de Cecilia_), and Alfredo Ambrogio (_L’Entrata di Cristo
in Gerusalemme_), is Enrico Bossi. The latter’s oratorios, _Canticum
canticorum_ (1900) and _Il Paradiso perduto_ (1903), are distinctly
concert oratorios in the grand style, more strongly individual and
less mystically religious than Perosi’s. His treatment of Solomon’s
glowing ‘Song of Songs’ is musically sensuous rather than symbolic,
and at times suggestive, in its passion, of Massenet. It is a work
rich in imaginative development and, again in contrast to Perosi,
the weight is laid on its choral rather than its solo portions. The
secular trend is even more marked in _Il Paradiso perduto_, and some
of its movements are to be reckoned among the finest in modern choral
literature. In both these works, as in his secular cantata _Giovanna
d’Arca_, and his symphonic poem _Il Cieco_, with tenor solo and chorus,
Bossi has infused the spirit of modernism into the Italian oratorio,
and developed it beyond the purely ecclesiastical concept represented
by Perosi.

In this direction the influence of Ermanno Wolf-Ferrari, better
known, perhaps, as a composer of opera than of oratorio, has also
been noteworthy. His cantata, _Talitha kumi_ (‘Maiden, arise’), on
the favorite subject of the daughter of Jairus, written in 1900, was
followed by the oratorio _Sulamith_, which, if not dramatically as
strong as Bossi’s _Canticum_, betrays melodic charm and warm orchestral
coloring.

His greatest choral work, however, is undoubtedly his _La Vita Nuova_,
opus 9, in which, using Dante’s text, he has woven together incidents
of the love-life of Dante and Beatrice in a succession of idyllic and
lyric mood-pictures. The suggestive power of the work is remarkable;
dramatic effect, rhythmic variety, harmonic subtlety are combined in
well-nigh perfect expressional unity. The composer has followed his own
inspiration throughout, and that with the happiest artistic results.
There need be no hesitation in affirming that this choral work marks
the apex of attainment in modern Italian choral composition, and it
may be considered the most valuable individual product of the Italian
choral revival.


                                   IV

Turning from Italy to Scandinavia, we find that in general little
creative work is done in the choral forms at the present day.
In Finland, as in Denmark, the cantata after the Handelian or
Mendelssohnian model is still in vogue. Even Sibelius has done little
in the way of choral writing--only a ‘Festival Cantata’ and some
choruses; nor has anything of importance been written in Norway in this
genre since the death of Grieg; while oratorio, though largely given in
concert in Sweden, has not stimulated original composition.

In Russia more has been done. The Neo-Russians turn more naturally
to symphonic and operatic composition than to the choral forms, and
although quite a few of the great contemporaries are identified with
choral compositions, collectively there has not been a great deal
written, with the exception of music for the liturgic services of the
Greek Catholic Church, to which Tschaikowsky, Bortniansky, and others
have made notable contributions. This liturgic music does not call for
consideration here, as it is discussed elsewhere. The folk-music of
Russia, which plays such a prominent part as thematic material in the
works of the Neo-Russian school, is chorally more identified with the
operatic vocal ensemble, which is also outside the scope of the present
chapter.

The original choral compositions of contemporary Russia stand high,
qualitatively. Moussorgsky is represented by his virile ‘Destruction
of Sennacherib’ (1866) for chorus and orchestra, and a choral number
from his opera, _Salâmmbo_, revised, polished and enlarged as a chorus
for mixed voices and solo under the title of ‘Joshua,’ one of the few
of the composer’s works which show a strong Oriental flavor. Nor has
Rimsky-Korsakoff, the friend and editor of Moussorgsky, written much
more. There is a cantata for tenor, bass, male chorus and orchestra,
‘The Doom of Olga’ (Newcastle-on-Tyne, 1909); another, _Switezianka_,
for soprano, tenor, chorus and orchestra, a cantata entitled
_Doubmouchka_ and a ‘Gloria’ for orchestra and chorus; as well as
fifteen folk-songs arranged for mixed voices.

Glazounoff, the symphonist, a pupil of Rimsky-Korsakoff, is the author,
jointly with Liadow, of a cantata in memory of the celebrated Russian
sculptor Antokolsky, for tenor solo, chorus and orchestra, written
after his defection from the ranks of the national school; and Liadow
himself has set forty-five folk-songs for female voices and composed a
musical setting, for mixed voices and orchestra, of the last scene from
Schiller’s ‘Bride of Messina.’

Arensky has given us a fine choral number--‘The Fountain of
Bachtchissarai,’ after a Pushkin poem, for solo voices, chorus and
orchestra; while Rachmaninoff’s spirited and plastically written choral
ballad, ‘Springtide,’ after a poem by Nekrassoff, composed in 1901
for dramatic baritone, mixed chorus and orchestra, has already been
heard in this country. A new choral work by Rachmaninoff, set to E.
A. Poe’s poem ‘The Bells,’ was given at Petrograd in the recent past
with great success. Glière has to his credit a choral suite for female
voices, with the four seasons as its textual basis; Ippolitoff-Ivanoff
has written three cantatas, Oriental in coloring, each in memory of a
Russian poet; Akimenko has composed choruses for mixed voices; Georges
Catoire for female voices; and Alexander Tanejew has set two groups of
twelve poems each, for four and five-part chorus respectively, while
his better-known nephew, Sergius Ivanovitch, who died this year in
Petrograd (1915), is the composer of a cantata, ‘St. John of Damascus’
(1884). Stravinsky, too, has a cantata to his credit, composed in 1911,
and this practically completes the tale of contemporary Russian choral
composition.

In concluding this study of contemporary choral music there only remain
to be mentioned, in Poland, Felix Nowowiejski, author of several
‘concert-dramas,’ ‘The Prodigal Son’ (1901), ‘The Discovery of the Holy
Cross’ (1906) and _Quo Vadis_ (1907)--rich in theatrical effect; and in
Hungary, Mauritius Vavrineoz, with an oratorio, _Christus_. In Spain
and Portugal choral music, in the modern sense of the word, is hardly
written. Felipe Pedrell’s dramatic cantata _Comte Arnau_, a score
distinctly modern in style and treatment, and Grignón’s _La Nit de
Nadal_, for chorus, solos and orchestra, are about the only ones that
come to mind.


                              FOOTNOTES:

[90] Schering: _Geschichte des Oratoriums_, p. 546.

[91] Romain Rolland: _Musiciens d’Aujourd’hui_, Paris.




                              CHAPTER XIV

           THE ORGAN FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES TO THE PRESENT

     The ancestor of the modern organ; pneumatic and hydraulic
     organs of classical antiquity--The organ in early mediæval
     times--The tenth and eleventh centuries: cloister and minster
     organs; the twelfth and thirteenth centuries: introduction
     of the ‘portative’ organ and balanced keys; the fourteenth
     century: chromatic keyboard; pedals; organ blowing--Fifteenth
     and sixteenth centuries; cathedral and church organs;
     the _Rückpositiv_; the Spanish _partida_; builders--The
     seventeenth century: mechanical development; tuning;
     union of manuals; the eighteenth century: the ‘Swell’;
     English builders; the Silbermanns--_Rococo_ adornment of
     cases; the nineteenth century and the birth of the modern
     instrument--Pneumatic action; electric action; the Universal
     Air Chest; duplex stop control; tonal improvements--The
     chamber organ; the concert organ; conclusion.


Far back in the mist of ages some primal prototype of civilized man
found that by blowing a hollow reed he produced a pleasing sound. This
was probably the first step in the long process of evolution which
has resulted in the concert organ of to-day. From the single reed of
antediluvian times to the grouped reeds of the dawn of history was a
logical transition; the early peoples of the Orient, the Egyptians, the
Indians and the Chinese had accomplished it; but classical antiquity
is, perhaps, our most definite point of contact, and it might be said
that the bucolic Pan’s pipes or Syrinx of the Theocritan shepherd is
the ancestor of the ‘king of instruments.’

The _Syrinx_ of pastoral Greece consisted of a series of reeds (tubes)
without sound-holes, of graduated length and blown across the ends,
each tube giving forth one note of the diatonic scale. In the course
of time men hit upon the idea of allowing a bellows to take the place
of the human lungs and thus produce sound by artificial instead of
natural wind-pressure. Hence, even before the second century B. C. we
have the first pneumatic organ--a series of variously tuned pipes, with
mouthpieces, placed upon a box or chest, into which the air was pumped
by bellows, the pipes sounding when the player opened the primitive
valves which admitted the air to each pipe.

Following the pneumatic came the hydraulic organ, in which
water-pressure[92] took the place of wind-pressure. The invention of
this _organon hydraulicon_ is ascribed to the Alexandrian mechanician
Ktesibos, who flourished during the second century B. C. The
description[93] left of the instrument by the inventor’s pupil Heron
has been corroborated in its essentials by the discovery of a small
baked clay model of an hydraulic organ, found in the ruins of Carthage
in 1885 and preserved in the _Musée Lavigérie_ at Carthage. This model,
7-1/16 by 2-3/4 inches (which it is estimated would represent an actual
instrument 10 feet high and 4 feet across), was made by the potter
Possessoris, whose name is engraved on it, about 120 A. D., and is
important as verifying the fact that a primitive keyboard was in use at
the beginning of our era.

It is clear that both forms of the organ, pneumatic and hydraulic,
existed side by side for centuries--the hydraulic principle being
best adapted to the construction of large instruments, powerful in
tone, for permanent placing in amphitheatre, palace or coliseum, and
the pneumatic better suited to smaller ones, easily carried about
and enjoying, perhaps, a more general popularity. The stationary and
moveable organs of the Roman empire thus anticipate the ‘positive’ and
‘portative’ instruments of a later day.

Yet it is the hydraulic organ which is principally associated with the
palmy days of Roman imperial rule. Though the poet Cornelius Severus
(28 B. C.) celebrates the organ (_cortina_) which, ‘so rich in its
varied strains under the master’s skill, with liquid sound makes music
in the vast theatre,’ evidence tends to prove that the Romans were,
musically, not a highly advanced people--their ideal was quantity and
loudness of sound rather than quality, an ideal which the hydraulic
organ might realize better than the pneumatic. Hence the _organon
hydraulicon_, or _hydraulus_, was a luxury in vogue among the wealthy
patricians of the empire. Nero, whose musical attainments history views
with such grave suspicion, possessed two hydraulic organs. That they
were heard in the Coliseum we know by the testimony of Petronius, the
_arbiter elegantiarum_ of Nero’s Augustinian circle, who speaks of
gladiators struggling to the sound of the water-organ. It is strange
to note that among later Roman emperors the depraved and degenerate
Heliogabalus (A. D. 219-222) and his immediate successor, the good and
noble Alexander Severus, were both good performers on the water-organ.


                                   I

With the universal spread of the Christian faith the organ found its
way into the service of the Church, and even during the decline of the
empire and the dawn of western civilization the art of organ-building
never altogether died out. And this, despite the fact that originally
the instrument had come under the ban of the Church because of its
heritage of evil associations with the gladiatorial combats, saturnalia
and theatrical representations of Pagan Rome; possibly, also, because
the emperor Julian the Apostate was the owner of a fine _hydraulus_.
Yet this prejudice was ere long overcome, for the Spanish bishop,
Julianus, in the fifth century, asserts that organs were commonly used
in the churches throughout Spain.

And such is the esteem in which the finer examples of the builder’s art
are held that they are considered a gift fit for kings. The Emperor
Konstantine Kopronymus presents one to Pepin, king of the Franks, in
the year 757; and another Byzantine emperor sends one to Charlemagne in
812, of which the chronicle says: ‘Its bellows were of hide, its pipes
of bronze, its tones as loud as thunder and sweet as the sound of lyre
and psaltery.’ A pneumatic organ (as distinct from the hydraulic one
installed in his palace) was secured by the son of Charlemagne, Louis
le Debonnaire, for the royal chapel at Aix-la-Chapelle. And before
the tenth century the use of the organ in church and monastery was
well-nigh universal. Three treatises on organ-building written during
the tenth century testify to the fact. No doubt these early hydraulic
instruments had stops of some kind, but if so, their secret has
perished with them.

The tenth century (as well as the eleventh) was one of great activity
in organ-building. Numerous small organs were made in France, England
and Germany for use in cloister schools, where they supported the
singing of the Gregorian melodies. They usually consisted of a series
of from eight to, at the most, twenty-two pipes, tuned in the scale
of C major, from the tenor C upward. The pipes resembled the modern
diapasons in construction and stood behind a species of manual with
small keys (upright at first, but later horizontal) which allowed the
wind to enter the pipes when they were pressed down. Into these organs
the wind was pumped by bellows and water-power was not used to regulate
the pressure.

The passion for cathedral building which had broken out even before
this time conditioned the building of great organs in keeping with
the size and splendor of the ministers. These large organs were all
built on the hydraulic principle. In England we find a monster organ
(described in verse by St. Wolstan) installed in Bishop Alphege’s
church at Winchester about 980 A. D. It had four hundred pipes of
bronze, twenty-six bellows and two manuals (for two players) of twenty
keys (or rather levers) each, every key governing ten pipes. These
pipes were probably tuned in octaves of different pitch or, perhaps,
with fifths. The instrument required the services of some seventy
men to pump the wind! William of Malmesbury mentions ‘a fair organ
with pipes of copper, mounted in gilded frames,’ which St. Dunstan
presented to his monastery in the chronicler’s native town. And in
the _Vita S. Oswaldi_ we are informed that the Saxon Earl Elwin gave
the Convent of Ramsay an organ of spiral form, having copper pipes,
which ‘on feast-days emitted a sweet melodie and a clangour resounding
a long way.’ Large organs were also installed in Cologne, and in the
churches and monasteries of many other German and French cities during
this century. The ‘clangour’ of the Ramsay organ mentioned by the
chronicler we may take for granted, for in these instruments no special
distinction of tone-quality was sought, power and sonority being the
first essentials.


                                   II

Prior to the tenth and eleventh centuries, with their monster
instruments, the organ had been comparatively easy to play. But with
the enormous increase in size and a correspondingly complicated
mechanism the organist had to be somewhat of an athlete, so great was
the actual physical exertion required to depress the broad levers which
produced the tone (no actual keyboard existed before 1200 A. D.).[94]
The clenched fist was used and originated the mediæval term _organum
pulsare_, to ‘beat’ the organ. During this century and the succeeding
one the compass of the organ was enlarged from one to three octaves,
and progress in organ-building was also made in other directions.

In the twelfth century the pipes were first divided into registers and
stops, and the small ‘portative’ organs, easily carried, came into
use. Not until a hundred years later did the balanced keys, _depressa
lamina_, a genuine keyboard, appear in connection with the portative
organs, and in the fourteenth century their use was general in the
larger organs as well. Before the introduction of the keyboard, the
performer had ‘beaten’ levers or pulled out stop-like sliders to
produce the tone, and the great exertion entailed by the ‘beating’ of
the levers in the great organs is supposed to have led to the invention
of ‘mixtures’ some time after 1300.

The fourteenth century also offers the first instance of the use of a
chromatic keyboard, that of the organ at Halberstadt, built in 1361
and restored in 1495, in which an inscription on the keyboard states
that it formed part of the original organ, which had the semi-tonal
arrangement of keys. During this century organ-building received a
temporary check owing to both the Greek and Roman churches declaring
against the use of the instrument in public worship. It was soon
restored in the Roman Church, but has never been reintroduced in the
Greek.


             [Illustration: Handel’s Organ in Whitchurch]
                       _From a photograph_


During the fourteenth century the ‘positives’ and ‘regals,’[95]
small stationary organs, were perfected; and the organ pedals, said
to have been invented by Ludwig van Valbeke, an organist of Brabant,
about 1300, were first introduced. The change from broad to narrow
and more easily played keys in the larger organs is also supposed
to have taken place at this time. The ‘blowers’ of these days, and
for centuries to come, however, did not have an easy time of it. In
many of the large organs the wind was pumped by continual shifting
of weights of lead or stone. This was not the case with the bellows
at Magdeburg and Halberstadt. Here each blower manipulated two heavy
bellows, pressing down the upper plate of one while he raised the other
with a foot shod with an iron shoe. These blowers were appropriately
enough termed ‘tramplers.’ Another method of pumping was in use in the
Seville Cathedral up to comparatively recent times. Here the blower
walked continually from one to the other end of a fifteen-foot plank,
on the principle of a see-saw, alternately raising and depressing the
feeders as he reached either end. The ‘portatives’ of this time usually
consisted of a small wind-chest between two standards, planted with two
ranks of keys, of eight pipes each, and with a clavier of eight flat
diatonic keys, with single bellows like the ordinary domestic article.
The smaller ‘portatives’ may be said to have furnished the reed stops
for the organ proper.


                                   III

In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries organs of great beauty and
variety of tone, and rich in external adornment (there is a legend of
an organ with pipes of pure silver erected by Philip II, king of Spain,
in the _Escorial_), were built throughout Europe, the Germans enjoying
the greatest reputation as builders. In France (Amiens Cathedral,
Church of St. Bernard of Comminges, Chartres Cathedral); in Italy
(Basilica di San Petronio, Bologna; Orvieto Cathedral, Church of St.
John Lateran); in Spain (cathedrals of Salamanca, Zaragoza, Tarragona,
Barcelona), and in Germany (churches and minsters in Vienna, Erfurt,
Brunswick, Strassburg, Salzburg, Bamberg, Nürnberg) are still to be
found organs and cases which excite admiration. In England small
organs were principally used in the churches during the fifteenth
century, though toward its close and during the sixteenth larger organs
were imported from the Continent. During the sixteenth century the
_Rückpositiv_ (back positive), a small portable organ for liturgic
ceremonies, located at the organist’s back and communicating with a
keyboard in the principal organ by means of trackers running under his
feet, was invented and used until well into the nineteenth century,
especially in France.

A curious feature of the sixteenth-century cathedral organ of Spain,
and one which influenced Spanish religious composition, was the
_partida_, or division. All the stops were divided into two groups,
each one acting on half the keyboard, the stops on one side sounding
in the treble half, those on the other in the bass. Thus a Spanish
cathedral organ with 120 stops in reality controlled only 60 sets
of pipes. Compositions for these organs were called _partidas_, one
hand playing full organ with all the reeds, the other using only flue
stops. The part written for full organ was always _glosada_, or rich in
brilliant passage-work and ornamentation. Organ builders in the earlier
days were usually monks and priests, as all creative cultural activity
was then concentrated in the church and especially in the monasteries.
During the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries the lay builder, in
contrast to the ecclesiastic, makes his appearance.

Among these builders were, in England: William Wotton, who flourished
in 1487, Chamberlyn (1509), Duddyington (1519), Perrot (1526) and White
(1531); in Germany: Compenius, Schnitzker, Hildebrandt, Schmid, André,
Kranz, Lobsinger, and the Trampeli; in Italy: the Attengnati family,
Lorenzo di Giacomo, Luca Blasi, Vincenzo Columbi. It may be said that
during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries the organ assumed a form
whose essentials--plurality of keyboards (manuals) and wind-chests,
arrangement of stop action and pedals--have remained unchanged during
succeeding centuries. Interesting as an incident in the development
of the increasing secular use of the instrument is its introduction
(in the smaller form) in the orchestra of Peri’s _Euridice_ (1600),
the first opera, in which _un regalo_ and _Duoi organi di legno_
(portatives with wooden pipes) were employed.


                                   IV

During the seventeenth century many mechanical devices intended to
secure rapidity, ease and precision in organ playing were invented or
perfected. The custom of tuning the organ according to the ‘unequal
temperament,’ which made practicable the use of only sixteen keys,
persisted throughout this century, and did not die out on the Continent
until the next. The wind-gauge, invented in 1675 by Chr. F. Förner,
was important, as it made possible the proper regulation of the
wind-power in the various wind-chests and in the registers above them.
In general, this century as well as that following are notable because
of the addition of many new flute and reed-tone stops, and a general
enrichment of the tone-color of the instrument; as well as the first
general application of a thoroughly modern idea, the union of several
distinct organs, each having a keyboard of its own, into one single
instrument, though more than one manual had been used before this.

Early in the eighteenth century the ‘swell’ is invented to vary the
loudness of the organ tone, by an English organ-builder named Jordans
(1712); and during the course of the century the softest sounding
manual in the majority of English organs (known as the ‘echo’) is
changed into a swell. On the other hand the pedal is practically
unknown in England until the nineteenth century. Father Smith,
Thomas, René Harris and Avery were prominent English organ-builders
of the eighteenth century, as well as Samuel Green, who invented the
horizontal bellows in 1789. The Silbermanns were the great German
builders of the time, and from 1714 to 1817 various members of this
family built remarkably fine organs, renowned for their tone quality
and constructive excellence, in a number of German cities. One of the
finest of the Silbermann organs is that of the Freiberg minster, built
by Gottfried, in 1714; another is that of the Catholic Royal Chapel in
Dresden.

A curious development of the _rococo_ spirit of the age was the
amount of money spent on the tasteless external embellishment of the
instrument--angels posturing on the organ-cases, who by means of a
mechanism beat kettle-drums and cymbals and blew trumpets, and ‘cymbal
stars’ which jingled as they revolved on wires. Yet such errors in
judgment represented no more than a temporary aberration of taste, and
the century as a whole is one of continual mechanical progress with
corresponding musical results.

It is in the nineteenth century, however, that the great advance
in the mechanics of organ-building, which has culminated in the
present perfected instrument of to-day, begins. Cavaillé-Col (b.
1811) introduced separate wind-chests, with varying pressures for the
higher, middle and lower parts of the keyboard, and added _flutes
octaviantes_ to the register. In 1832 C. S. Barker (England) invented
composition pedals, making easier the handling of groups of stops,
and the pneumatic lever. And, finally, with the improvements of H. W.
Willis and the electro-pneumatic action of Péschard (1866) (electricity
had already been applied to the key-action by Dr. Gauntlett in 1850),
the history of the ancient organ comes to an end and that of the modern
instrument begins.

      F. H. M.


                                   V

The processes by which the organ has developed from its clumsy
prototypes to the magnificent yet sensitive and delicate instrument
of to-day are parallel to those to be found in other products of
man’s ingenuity. Practical science has contributed step by step to
this evolution, and no one can understand the modern organ who is not
familiar with the latest inventions of electro-pneumatics.

The first step was the introduction of pneumatic mechanism to open the
pallets in the old open slide chests, thus equalizing the touch of the
key-action. This also made it possible to greatly increase the number
of stops served by a single pallet. The next problem was to avoid
increasing the weight of the key-touch when the couplers were drawn,
and this was accomplished by an extension of the pneumatic system in
the key-desk, which in this case was connected by action-tubing to the
chests. The resulting combination of an entirely pneumatic key-action
with the pneumatic operation of the pallets constituted tubular
pneumatic action.

An improved form of chest was at this time constructed in which each
stop was supplied with wind separately and the single pallet for each
note was replaced by a small pneumatic valve for each pipe of each
stop on the chest. Hilborne L. Roosevelt and C. S. Haskell developed
this system (1885) and at first employed it in connection with tracker
key-action. Many an old organ of this type is in perfect condition
to-day. Most American organs contain chests built on this plan, with
countless modifications. Among its advantages are greater steadiness
of wind, and independent control of the wind as it enters each
stop-chamber. The latter feature is closely related in its operation to
the French ventils by which whole sections of stops are cut off from
the wind at the player’s will. Thus the modern organ combines tubular
pneumatic action with pneumatic chests, as practically all chests,
whether open or individual, are pneumatic in their operation.

An important advance must be credited to Mr. Roosevelt, in the
origination of adjustable combination action, which was applied by him
in 1882.

It is impossible to record adequately the revolution which the use of
electricity has wrought in organ building. In 1886 Henry Willis erected
a large four-manual electric organ in Canterbury Cathedral, where the
storage batteries filled a good-sized room (which was the old singing
school room), and their amperage was enormous. The successful audacity
of this achievement deserves recognition. Here was a large key desk
placed behind the choir stalls, and connected only by cables, 120 feet
long, with the organ, which was entirely concealed in the Triforium.
This is exactly what has become a commonplace in the organ of to-day.
The progress of electricity has, however, enabled us to use much
smaller magnets, and to apply their action to the pneumatic chests with
great simplicity. For it must be remembered that so-called electric
organs merely add electrical control to the existing pneumatic action
of the pipe valves. In some organs this element is proportionately
quite small, in others it is very large; but in any case the chest
action is pneumatic.

In one form of chest the action, while electro-pneumatic and designed
to control each stop separately, is exposed and constitutes the
ceiling of a highly developed modern open chest. Though originated
by Randebrock, the chief credit for this combination of the two
fundamental systems of chest structure is due to John T. Austin (1895).
He has named it the ‘Universal Air Chest.’

The separate stop-chest made it possible to operate a stop from
more than one keyboard, or at more than one octave, a process which
is called duplex, multiple or unit stop control. Noted builders
are applying the idea in great variety. The principle is not new.
It was brought out in Belgium by L. Dryvers, and described by H.
V. Couwenbergh in 1887. One of his schemes comprised an organ of
six units, from which a three-manual organ of forty-six registers
was formed. For instance, a Bourdon stop of 104 pipes yielded ten
registers, of the following variety of nomenclature--_Bourdon_,
_Sous-Basse_, _Flûte Bouchée_, _Flûte Douce_, _Flûte Champêtre_. The
ingenious prophet, however, added to this scheme a _Récit_ organ
of eleven absolutely separate solo stops, built on the _système
ordinaire_, and expressive, thereby showing a commendable sense of the
weakness of his own system!

All modern organs employ the principle of duplex mechanism to some
extent, and, legitimately used, it is of enormous value. The example
given above is the _reductio ad absurdam_ of the idea, and also
indicates the deceptive habit of renaming the stops thus derived.

The success of the modern organ has depended in large measure on the
use of really effective swell chambers. Not only are they effective,
but the proportion of stops that are enclosed has been greatly
increased. The organ has thereby been liberated from its old lack of
flexibility. We even find two expressive divisions playable from one
manual. An interesting adaptation of this idea is the grouping of all
the stops of each tone family in separate swell chambers. This has been
done on some large concert organs, as well as on those of the unit
type. Mention must here be made of the conspicuous service rendered by
Robert Hope-Jones both in his insistence on effective expression, with
the stops arranged in ‘families’ of tone, and in his advocacy of the
unit organ. However, he was often obliged to modify his own theories in
practice. He was the first to leather the lips of Diapason pipes.

Tonally, the modern organ has also made great strides. It cannot be
said that voicers are more skillful in their art, nor that the quality
of the materials used is better than in the past. We must, however,
note the great advantage of being able to supply and control wind of
any pressure desired in the modern wind chest. It is quite common to
voice the chorus solo reeds on a wind pressure of twenty-five inches,
for which the scales used, the thickness and weight of the metal, and
the voicing, are greatly modified. The Diapasons and Flutes have not
changed so much as the chorus and solo reeds, and the stops of string
tone. Artistic voicing has completely changed the character of these
stops, and has adjusted itself to the new conditions of expression. A
few men have achieved fame in this direction, though their work has not
always received the recognition it deserves. Among them were George and
Charles Englefried and others, whose work was found on many Roosevelt
organs; John W. Whiteley, of the English family of organ builders;
and W. E. Haskell, whose development of string tones and especially
the allied flue stops of reed character has attracted attention. The
inventions of Robert Hope-Jones have given a great stimulus to the
high-pressure reeds, and he also introduced the Diaphone (1894).
Among American builders the names of George S. Hutchings, Hilborne L.
Roosevelt and Ernest M. Skinner are conspicuous for their high ideals
in artistic voicing, while in Europe the noble instruments constructed
by Henry Willis and Aristide Cavaillé-Coll are most conspicuous.


                                   VI

No account of the modern organ would be complete without reference to
three new developments of the instrument. Its origin and traditions are
ecclesiastical, but our civilization has at first hesitatingly, and
now boldly, appropriated the organ for other uses. It was introduced
into various private residences, and the resulting type is known as
the Chamber Organ. Then, particularly in England, it was employed as a
means of public instruction and entertainment in town halls and other
public buildings. Notable examples are the organs at Liverpool (St.
George’s Hall), London (Albert Hall, etc.), and Sydney, N. S. W. These
instruments are known as Concert Organs. A typical modern concert organ
scheme is as follows:


                   SPECIFICATION OF A CONCERT ORGAN
                   By CLIFFORD DEMAREST, F. A. G. O.

           _Organist, Church of the Messiah, New York City_


                              GREAT ORGAN

       1. 16 ft. Bourdon                     10.  8 ft. Doppel Flute
       2. 16 ft. Diapason                    11.  4 ft. Harmonic Flute
       3.  8 ft. First Diapason              12.  4 ft. Octave
       4.  8 ft. Second Diapason             13.  2-2/3 ft. Twelfth
       5.  8 ft. Stentorphone (from Solo)    14.  2 ft. Fifteenth
       6.  8 ft. Gemshorn                    15.  V Rks. Mixture
       7.  8 ft. Gedeckt                     16. 16 ft. Trumpet
       8.  8 ft. Gross Flute                 17.  8 ft. Trumpet
       9.  8 ft. Gamba                       18.  4 ft. Trumpet

            Stops 4-18 inclusive enclosed in a separate box


                              SWELL ORGAN

     19. 16 ft. Contra Gamba         30.  4 ft. Principal
     20. 16 ft. Melodia              31.  4 ft. Violina
     21.  8 ft. First Diapason       32.  4 ft. Flute Traverso
     22.  8 ft. Second Diapason      33.  2 ft. Flautino
     23.  8 ft. Viole d’Orchestre    34.  III Rks. Solo Mixture
     24.  8 ft. Viol Celeste         35. 16 ft. Contra Fagotto
     25.  8 ft. Salicional           36.  8 ft. Oboe
     26.  8 ft. Salicional Celeste   37.  8 ft. Cornopean (Horn quality)
     27.  8 ft. Æoline               38.  8 ft. French Trumpet
     28.  8 ft. Hohl Flute           39.  4 ft. Horn
     29.  8 ft. Tibia Clausa


                              CHOIR ORGAN

    40. 16 ft. Dulciana                      48.  8 ft. Quintadena
    41.  8 ft. English Diapason              49.  4 ft. Chimney Flute
    42.  8 ft. Geigen Principal              50.  4 ft. Fugara
    43.  8 ft. Muted Viol                    51.  2 ft. Piccolo
    44.  8 ft. Dulciana                      52.  8 ft. Orchestral Oboe
    45.  8 ft. Concert Flute                 53.  8 ft. Clarinet
    46.  8 ft. Melodia                       54.  8 ft. Saxophone (wood)
    47.  8 ft. Flute Celeste (with Melodia)

                      Enclosed in a separate box


                              SOLO ORGAN

          55. 8 ft. Stentorphone      59. 4 ft. Philomela
          56. 8 ft. Tibia Plena       60. 8 ft. Gross Gamba Celeste
          57. 8 ft. Gross Gamba       61. 8 ft. French Horn
          58. 4 ft. Clarion           62. 8 ft. Tuba (25 inches)

                      Enclosed in a separate box


                              PEDAL ORGAN

    63. 32 ft. Open Diapason                 72.  8 ft. Octave
                                                  (from Second Diapason)

    64. 16 ft. First Diapason                73.  8 ft. Violoncello
    65. 16 ft. Second Diapason (metal)       74.  8 ft. Dolce Flute
                                                  (from Great Bourdon)

    66. 16 ft. Bourdon                       75. 32 ft. Contra Bombarde
    67. 16 ft. Second Bourdon (from Great)   76. 16 ft. Trombone
    68. 16 ft. Dulciana (from Choir)         77. 16 ft. Contra Fagotto
                                                 (from Swell)

    69. 16 ft. Contra Gamba (from Swell)     78.  8 ft. Tromba
    70. 16 ft. Violone                       79.  4 ft. Clarion
    71. 16 ft. Lieblich Gedeckt


                              ECHO ORGAN

      80. 8 ft. Open Diapason   84. 8 ft. Vox Humana
      81. 8 ft. Celestina       85. 4 ft. Flute d’Amour
      82. 8 ft. Unda Maris      86. Harp.
      83. 8 ft. Fern Flute      87. Chimes (also playable on
                                    Great and Pedal)

                      Enclosed in a separate box


                               COUPLERS

  1. Swell to Pedal        12. Chimes to Great    23. Choir to Choir 4’
  2. Swell to Pedal 4 ft.  13. Swell to Choir     24. Choir to Great 16’
  3. Choir to Pedal        14. Echo to Choir      25. Choir to Great 4’
  4. Great to Pedal        15. Swell to Solo      26. Solo to Solo 16’
  5. Solo to Pedal         16. Great to Solo      27. Solo to Solo 4’
  6. Echo to Pedal         17. Echo to Swell      28. Solo to Great 16’
  7. Chimes to Pedal       18. Swell to Swell 16’ 29. Solo to Great 4’
  8. Swell to Great        19. Swell to Swell 4’  30. Echo to Great 16’
  9. Choir to Great        20. Swell to Great 16’ 31. Echo to Great 4’
 10. Solo to Great         21. Swell to Great 4’  32. Echo on, Great off
 11. Echo to Great         22. Choir to Choir 16’ 33. Echo on, Solo off

              Balanced Great Expression Pedal
              Balanced Swell Expression Pedal
              Balanced Choir Expression Pedal
              Balanced Solo and Echo Expression Pedal
              Balanced Crescendo Pedal

Concert halls and assembly halls in public buildings in America are
now being furnished with organs of this type and an immense number of
people derive æsthetic enjoyment from these instruments. Moreover,
astute theatrical managers have seized on this favorite kind of
entertainment and are featuring organs in the theatre. There is no
settled form of theatre scheme, but the process of evolution is going
on, and worthy instruments are being constructed for this purpose.

Unfortunately this development has resulted in the construction
of numerous hybrid instruments. The bewildering possibilities of
duplication have led to the installation of concert instruments with no
independent pedal foundation and with additional manuals which, instead
of preserving their own character, control only a rearrangement of
stops already perfectly accessible. The tendency to let mere mechanism
replace independent tones is most flagrantly displayed in this class of
instruments.

There is no doubt that the organ is now beginning to ‘find itself.’
The organ of the future will be as much like an organ as ever--only
more so, if possible! We shall still regard mechanism as a means to
an end, and not as an end in itself. We shall insist on simplicity
of control, at the key desk, however vast and sonorous the tonal
appointments. Finally, we shall honor and encourage the master voicers
in their efforts to use the best methods of the past, and to adapt them
to the new mechanical conditions. For in the last analysis the sense to
which the organ makes its true appeal is not that of touch, through the
player’s fingers, nor that of sight, through the impressive appearance
of tracery and noble towers of pipes, but that of hearing, for the
ear is the most marvellous acoustic instrument ever conceived and is
capable of appreciating the most refined as well as the noblest organ
tones.

      R. L. McA.


                              FOOTNOTES:

[92] An interesting example of the primitive application of the
hydraulic principle in producing musical sound is afforded by the
‘whistling jug’ of the Peruvian Incas. Here water flowing from one
jar to another, through the medium of a cross-channel, forced the
air through a whistle set over the mouth of the second jar, with a
resulting musical note. The inverse tipping of the jar drew in the air
again through the whistle.

[93] Vitruvius, the Roman engineer and architect, who lived in the
reign of Augustus, has also described the hydraulic organ of Ktesibos
in his _De Arch._ lib. X, cap. II.

[94] Though the first keyboard (of sixteen keys), according to
Prætorius, was introduced into the organ of the Magdeburg Cathedral
toward the close of the eleventh century.

[95] ‘Regals’ from the Italian _rigabello_, an instrument used to
support the plain-chant in the church. Perhaps, also, in allusion to
the quality of ‘the king of instruments.’ The ‘regal’ may be regarded
as the ancestor of the modern harmonium.




                               CHAPTER XV

                        THE EARLY ORGAN MASTERS

     The old Italian masters: Landino to Frescobaldi--Early
     German masters; the forerunners of Bach; Hassler, Pachelbel,
     Buxtehude--J. S. Bach: the toccatas, the preludes and fugues,
     the sonatas and other works--The early French composers:
     Couperin and Rameau; Spain and Portugal; the Netherlands--The
     early English masters; Tye, Tallis, Byrd, Bull, Gibbons,
     etc.--Purcell; Handel.


                                   I

Italy, which was the scene of the birth and infancy of so many of
the forms and ideas out of which modern music was finally evolved,
witnessed the first development of organ-playing also. The earliest
existing information we possess regarding organists and organ-playing
comes from Italy and reaches far back into the fourteenth century.
Francesco Landino (1325-1390) of Florence is the first celebrated
representative of Italian organists’ art. A contemporary writer gives
the following enthusiastic account of his playing: ‘The whole assembly
is excited by his organ-playing, the young dance and sing, the old hum
with him; all are enchanted. He draws wonders from the little organ;
the birds cease their song and in their astonishment draw near to
listen.’[96]

The instrument with which Landino produced such astonishing effects
and gained such a reputation was not the church organ (_organum
magnum_), which was altogether too clumsy, but the little house organ,
probably the ‘portative’ organ, called _ninfale_ in Italy (see Chapter
XIV). In the Library of St. Lorenzo at Florence is a miniature which
represents Landino seated, playing on a _ninfale_ which rests on his
knees. He was called _Il Cieco_ from the fact that he was blind, and
his great skill as a performer gave him the name Francesco _degli
Organi_. He was generally recognized as the most prominent organist and
musician of his time, and, as he was of noble family and grew up in an
atmosphere of culture and refinement, it is not astonishing to find
that he was not less celebrated as a philosopher and poet. None of his
compositions for the organ have been preserved; probably most of his
playing was improvisation, as his infirmity would render it difficult
for him to make use of the imperfect notation of his time. Several of
his vocal works have come down to us, however, and Fétis considered
them far in advance of the art of his period.

There were, of course, many organists before Landino, but none of them
seem to have gained any special excellence in the practice of their
art. Until about the time of Landino the professions of organ-playing
and organ-building, certainly as far as church-music was concerned,
seem to have been more commonly than otherwise combined in the same
person. But after Landino organ-playing became more of a specialized
department of musical art. Early in the next century Antonio
Sguarcialupo achieved much fame for his performances and in 1435 was
appointed organist at the newly-dedicated Cathedral of Santa Maria at
Florence. He was of noble birth and was a man of refined and scholarly
attainments. He evidently held the double position of church organist
and court organist to Lorenzo the Magnificent, and his playing was so
exceptional that it attracted people to Florence from far and near to
listen to it. Lorenzo treated him as a friend, and so highly did he
esteem him that at his death he wrote a sonnet eulogizing the musician,
in which Death is made to say, ‘I have taken him in order that Heaven
may be made more joyful with his music.’ No compositions of his for
either organ or voices have come down to us, but he left a valuable
collection of older Italian compositions, thirteen in number, the only
existing examples of Italian musical art of that far-off time. This
collection is now in the Library of St. Lorenzo in Florence.

The Netherlanders, who were the musical masters of Europe during this
period, were the founders of the first real school of organ-playing
in Italy. The two men who gave this movement its first impetus and
direction were Adrian Willaert (about 1480-1562), who was _maestro
di cappella_ of St. Mark’s at Venice from 1527 till his death, and
Jacques Buus (born in Flanders about 1510), who was second organist at
St. Mark’s from 1541 to 1551. They cultivated with special zeal and
preference the so-called _ricercare_, one of the most important of the
early instrumental forms. Willaert’s creative interest naturally lay
more in the direction of composing for the fine choral establishment
which St. Mark’s maintained, but Buus seems to have made at least the
beginning of a type of instrumental music that was conceived for the
organ and not merely transcribed from vocal music, thus paving the way
for real organ music.

For a better understanding of early organ music it will be
necessary here to describe briefly some of the most important and
frequently-employed instrumental forms of the period. The earliest
use of the organ in the church service was merely to strengthen the
voice parts by duplication. When the organ was developed sufficiently
to be used alone for artistic playing, the organist merely played
well-known motets and other church compositions and sometimes even
favorite secular madrigals and _chansons_. For a long time these
were purely transcriptions of the choral parts with no attempt at
variation and many of the compositions of the period were frankly
written ‘either to be sung or played.’ Little by little organists
ventured to introduce free passages of their own to embellish the
voice parts, but such compositions remained essentially choral works.
The _ricercare_ (from _ricercare_, ‘to search out’) was one of the
earliest forms of strictly instrumental music, though the term was
sometimes applied also to the madrigal.[97] It dates from early in the
fifteenth century and was an elaborate and scholarly form into which
every known contrapuntal artifice and device was introduced, and which,
therefore, was least cultivated. Originally the _ricercare_ did not
adhere to the same subject throughout, but, like the motet, progressed
after a short elaboration to a new subject. This lacked conciseness,
which, however, was won in the seventeenth century when it assumed
practically the same form as the simple fugue, and for a long time
these two terms were interchangeable. The _ricercare_ was sometimes in
the form of a _fantasia_ on some popular melody or song and in this way
many secular tunes crept into organ music as they had earlier found a
surreptitious place in the old masses. A somewhat later form was the
_canzona Francese_, an invention borrowed from the French _chanson_,
contrapuntal in character but less elaborate than the _ricercare_ and
freed from pedantry. Its first three notes were almost invariably a
quarter and two eighths, thus establishing a characteristic rhythmical
movement. Its song-like character made it a favorite form. The
_toccata_ (from _toccare_, ‘to play’) was a third and still later form.
This required brilliant execution and was in the nature of a fantastic
improvisation to display the technical skill of the performer. Later it
was frequently employed to precede a fugue and was built largely on the
development of a single figure.

Pieces called _intonazioni d’organo_ (‘Intonations’) were short
preludes, from five to twenty measures long, in the nature of free
improvisations; they were used to precede the larger organ pieces in
the services of the Roman Church. The _fantasia_ was a form of very
respectable age, probably as old as the _ricercare_. It seems to have
been descended from the accompanied madrigal, in which the instruments
played the same parts with the voices. Hawkins in his History speaks of
fantasias as abounding ‘in fugues and little responsive passages and
all those elegances observable in the structure and contrivance of the
madrigal.’ Usually they were utterly free in form, differing radically
from the more formal structure of later fantasias, such as those by
Mozart and Beethoven.

St. Mark’s at Venice was destined to play such a distinguished part
in the development of organ-music that a word of historical comment
will here be appropriate. Venice was a republic until 1797, its
government being vested in the hands of a Doge, or Duke, and a Council
made up of representatives of the nobility. From very early times
this Council took the greatest pride in the music of the grand-ducal
chapel, later known as St. Mark’s Cathedral (San Marco). As early as
1318 they commissioned Zucchetti to build a new organ for the chapel
and, when it was completed, appointed him organist and choir-master. A
second organ was built about 1370 and the position of second organist
created in 1389. These two positions were co-equal in duties, salary,
and official importance and the organists, like the consuls of old
Rome, were supposed to be men of equal calibre. They were chosen with
the greatest care from many candidates after the stiffest kind of
examination conducted before the magistrates and St. Mark’s grew to be
one of the most coveted musical appointments in Europe. A _maestro di
cappella_ was added to the two organists in 1491. His position was the
most important of the three and his salary[98] was larger than that of
the organists. He composed the special music, trained and conducted the
choirs and orchestra, and had general supervision over all the church
music. This position became so important that later a second _maestro_
was appointed with rank and duties coordinate with the first. In these
positions a long line of illustrious musicians served St. Mark’s for
several centuries.

Once started in a new direction, the Italians soon took from the hands
of their Netherland masters the development of this branch of the art
and native organists began to write copiously for their instrument. In
addition to Venice, Rome, Florence, Naples, Bologna, Parma, and many
other Italian cities boasted of excellent musicians and organists who
worked earnestly and enthusiastically for the advancement of the art of
organ music. They did not employ counterpoint merely for its own sake,
as did many of the Netherland masters, but imagination and feeling
were given consideration. Harmonically and melodically much progress
was also made and chromatic tones were much more freely and frequently
brought into use. The forms chiefly cultivated were those mentioned
above. Brief mention will be made of the more famous of these early
masters.

Claudio Merulo (1533-1604) at the age of twenty-four was chosen out of
ten competitors to fill the position of second organist at St. Mark’s
in Venice, and from 1566 to 1586 he was first organist there. One of
the greatest organists of his time, he is credited by Fétis with being
the first to write really independent compositions for the organ.
He wrote three volumes of _ricercari_ and _canzoni_ and two volumes
of toccatas. His fame as composer rests chiefly on the fact that he
advanced the toccata-form. His reputation was overshadowed by the
greater genius of the two Gabrielis, who were associated with him at
St. Mark’s.

Andrea Gabrieli (1510-1586), a pupil of Willaert and the successor of
Merulo as second organist at St. Mark’s in 1566, was one of the most
eminent representatives of the brilliant Venetian school. He exerted
a large influence not only as composer and performer, but also as
teacher. Among his distinguished pupils were his nephew Giovanni and
the German Hans Leo Hassler of Nuremberg. His organ works include
chiefly _ricercari_, _canzoni_, and _intonazioni_. A characteristic
work of his is the _Fantasia allegra_, founded on a popular French
_chanson_ by Crequillon, which is quoted by Ritter in his _Geschichte
des Orgelspiels_. It has three themes or subjects which are developed
in the style of the _ricercare_. The second subject is a free
‘inversion’ of the first and the third is formed from the second by
‘diminution,’ with ornamentation in rapid passages.

Giovanni Gabrieli (1557-1612), nephew and pupil of Andrea, was likewise
celebrated as organist, teacher, and composer. From 1575 to 1579 he
was at the court in Munich. In 1585 he succeeded Merulo as first
organist at St. Mark’s, a position which he held until his death.
Heinrich Schuetz and Michael Prætorius were among his famous pupils.
As composer he stood at the head of the Venetian school, being,
like his uncle, a great master of vocal forms and showing a special
preference for compositions for double and triple chorus. For organ
he left preludes, a _toccata_, and several _ricercari_ and _canzoni_.
A valuable and attractive work of his is the _Sonata pian e forte_
in eight independent parts (quoted in Wasielewski’s _Geschichte der
Instrumentalmusik_).

The two Gabrielis occupy a place of large importance in the early
development of organ music and may be said to be the first real
organ composers. Their _ricercari_ mark a distinct advance over
the compositions of their predecessors, especially in their fugal
construction.

Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina (1526-1594), _maestro di cappella_ of
St. Peter’s at Rome from 1571 until his death, and the greatest master
of the unaccompanied polyphonic choral style, wrote some for the organ,
including eight _ricercari_. The character of his music is quiet,
serious, and dignified, contrasting favorably with the often dull and
meaningless _ricercari_ of the older Netherlanders. Wasielewski’s
estimate of these older compositions is: ‘The impression they produce
is essentially wearisome, dry, and monotonous. They are generally of
great length and they sound like troubled, uneasy successions of notes,
wanting in contrast of subjects and strength of ideas; the eye is more
satisfied than the ear.’[99]

Luzzasco Luzzaschi (1545-1607) was organist of the Cathedral of
Ferrara. Merulo conferred upon him the title of ‘first organist of
Italy.’ A good organ number is his Toccata in the fourth tone.

Gioseffo Guami (about 1550-1611) enjoyed an excellent reputation as
organist and composer. He was organist first at Munich, then at St.
Mark’s, and finally at the cathedral in Lucca, his native town. His
_canzona_ ‘_La Guamina_’ (quoted by Ritter) is a valuable composition
and shows him as a master of form, gifted with refreshing inventive
powers.

Girolamo Diruta, born about 1560 at Perugia, was a pupil of Merulo and
organist of the cathedral at Chioggia, near Venice. He was the author
of a famous instruction book (published in 1597), ‘_Il Transilvano_’--a
dialogue on the true method of playing organs: in which work a
knowledge of everything connected with the keyboard is easily and
rapidly taught. Also how to use the hands in Diminution (which means
here the ornamentation of a subject by rapid notes) and the method of
understanding the Tablature, proving the truth and necessity of the
rules given, by examples of Toccatas by divers excellent organists.
A work newly made, most useful and necessary to professors of the
organ.’ The book contains the following rules for playing the organ
‘with gravity and ease.’ The organist must sit before the middle of the
keyboard and must not make unnecessary movements, but must hold himself
upright and in graceful position. The fingers must be placed equally
above the keys, somewhat bent but not stiff; the fingers must press,
not strike, the keys. The scale is to be played by the fingers alone,
without the thumb, which is to be used only in a _salto cattivo_ (that
is, a leap from an accented to an unaccented note), thus:


                      [Illustration: Music score]


The prejudice against the use of the thumb remained in force until
Sebastian Bach revolutionized the whole method of fingering by using
the thumb equally with the other fingers. _Il Transilvano_ also
contains some interesting directions for registration for the eight
ecclesiastical modes, for example: ‘For the First Tone, which requires
full-sounding quality, the Double Open Diapason, the Open Diapason,
and the Flute or Principal. To give expression to the melancholy
feeling of the Second Tone, the Double Open Diapason and Tremulant are
required....’

Constanzo Antegnati, born in Brescia in 1557, was an organist and
organ-builder, as his ancestors had been for several generations. In
1608 he published an instruction book called _L’Arte Organica_, which
is of more than passing interest since it gives some insight into the
size and structure of contemporary organs, their tone-qualities and
mode of playing. It would seem that Italian organ-builders did not
strive after variety of tone-quality, but built their instruments
almost exclusively of diapasons from 32-foot pitch to highest audible
pitch through octaves and fifths, with only a small proportion of flute
stops and rarely a reed stop. The Italian organists seldom, if ever,
changed registration during performance. The effects which were then
so much wondered at were produced more by dexterity of execution and
command of counterpoint.

Girolamo Frescobaldi (1583-1644), Italy’s greatest master of the organ
and the most distinguished organist of the seventeenth century, was
the first to infuse expressive power into organ music. He was complete
master of the contrapuntal and harmonic art of his period and his work
bears the stamp of genius that would tolerate no rule, whether old or
new. ‘Understand me who can; I understand myself,’ he wrote as a motto
over one of his works. So great was his fame, as Baini relates, that at
his first appearance at St. Peter’s in Rome in 1614 he had an audience
of 30,000 listeners. The organ on which he played was an instrument of
fourteen stops with one manual and a short-compass pedal-board. He was
organist of St. Peter’s from 1614 until his death, except from 1628 to
1633 when he was court-organist at Florence. Instrumental music was
still in a crude, formative period, yet his harmonies are frequently
startling in their boldness and romantic suggestion; his music shows
almost complete emancipation from the sway of ecclesiastical modes;
and in the vigor and force of his subjects as well as in the freedom
with which he treated them and the expressive qualities he employed, he
was far in advance of his age. His contributions to organ literature
were numerous and important. They consisted of _ricercari_, _canzoni_,
_toccatas_, and _capriccios_, many of which have been reprinted in
modern notation in various collections of old masters.[100] He was
careful to give very specific directions, many of which are exceedingly
interesting, as to just how he wished his compositions performed.

The culmination of Italian organ music was reached in Frescobaldi and
the supremacy in this field was soon transferred to Germany, whither
zealous and gifted German students had carried the fruits of their
Italian study. Very little progress was made in Italy, in either
organ-playing or organ-building, from the time of Frescobaldi until
near the close of the nineteenth century, so completely was Italy under
the domination of the particular kind of opera so dearly prized by that
melody-loving country. A few important Italian names, however, remain
to be mentioned.

Giovanni Battista Fasolo, a Franciscan born at Asti, lived at Venice
and was known mainly by a work (published in 1645) which supplied the
organist with suitable material for the different services throughout
the whole church-year.

Giovanni Battista Bassini (1657-1716), a famous violinist and organist,
was chapel-master of the Cathedral of Bologna from 1680 to 1685, when
he went to Ferrara. Of interest is his _Sonata da Organo_ in F, in
which he makes use of the ‘circle of keys’ in modulating away from and
back to the principal key.

Vincenzo Abrici (1631-1696) was born at Rome, but was converted to
Lutheranism and in 1664 was appointed chapel-master to the Elector of
Saxony at Dresden, probably the only Italian Protestant organist of
his time. He wrote excellent church music and while at Dresden was the
teacher of Kuhnau.

Bernardo Pasquini (1637-1710) was born in Tuscany and became the most
celebrated Italian organist of the second half of the seventeenth
century, his fame spreading to many foreign countries. Most of his life
was spent at Rome where he was long organist at Santa Maria Maggiore,
from which position he was elevated to a post that was evidently
created especially for him--Organist of the Senate and People of Rome.

Domenico Zipoli (born about 1675) was organist of the Jesuit Church at
Rome about 1716 and during his lifetime was recognized as one of the
foremost composers for the organ. He published sonatas for organ and
cembalo consisting of short pieces for ritual use. Several of these are
available in modern editions and, especially a Canzona in G minor and a
Pastorale in C major, are pleasing enough to have been written by Bach
or Handel.

Padre Giambattista Martini (1706-1784), a celebrated theorist and
historian, published in 1738 sonatas for the organ and cembalo, which
were sets of short pieces hardly suitable for church use. He was
considered the highest authority on theoretical matters and was always
ready to help and encourage young musical talent. His Gavotte in F
(from one of the above sonatas) has often figured on popular organ
programs.


                                   II

Organ-playing in Germany was nearly a century later in starting
its serious development than in Italy. As the first impetus to the art
in Italy came from foreign sources--from the Netherlanders Willaert
and Buus who had settled in Venice--so the first definite stimulus
in the development of German organ-playing came from Italy and the
Netherlands, where the art had already reached a higher plane of
development. Amsterdam and Venice were the two chief centres from which
radiated the strongest influences in shaping the development of German
organ art. In the former city Sweelinck became the teacher of most of
the organists who later laid the foundations of the North German school
of organ-playing, while many of the great South German organists were
trained in Venice or Rome.


                 [Illustration: Early Organ Masters:]
          Top: Girolamo Frescobaldi and Jan Pieters Sweelinck
             Bottom: Samuel Scheidt and  Hans Leo Hassler


The first Germans to develop the art were Conrad Paumann of Nuremberg,
Paulus Hofhaimer of Vienna, and Arnold Schlick of Heidelberg, all
South Germans. The circumstances surrounding the life of the first
representative of German organ music, Conrad Paumann, were strangely
similar to those of the first great Italian organist, Landino. Both
were blind (Paumann was born blind), both were of noble family, and
both mastered nearly every known instrument. Paumann (1410-1473)
aroused great enthusiasm by his playing, he travelled much, and his
fame spread to other countries. For many years he was organist at St.
Sebald’s Church in Nuremberg, but spent his last years in Munich. He
was the author of _Fundamentum Organizandi_, the oldest extant work on
the art of extempore organ-playing; for ‘organizing’ at that period
still meant adding a counterpoint or organum to a given subject.

Paulus Hofhaimer (1459-1537), born at Radstadt, was court organist to
Emperor Maximilian I at Vienna. So famous was he that he was knighted
by both the Emperor and the King of Hungary; poets praised him and
Lucas Cranach painted his portrait. His contemporary, the organist
Luscinius, described his playing as being ‘full of angelic warmth and
power ... no one has surpassed, no one has even equalled him.’

Only the important churches in the larger towns possessed organs in
the fifteenth century. In the following century, however, interest in
organ-playing and especially in organ-building increased greatly and
organists multiplied rapidly. Among the first of them to gain eminence
was another famous blind organist, Arnold Schlick, born in Bohemia
about 1460 and organist to the Elector Palatine at Heidelberg. He was
the author of the oldest printed German tablature book (1512); in this
independent pedal parts were used throughout, a great advance over
previous organ composers.

In some of the compositions of Leonhard Kleber (1490-1556) there
appeared the first signs of what later became known as the German
school of Colorists. This school made its appearance shortly before the
middle of the sixteenth century and took its name from the effort of
composers to overload their compositions with ornamental rapid passages
(_coloratura_). Many of Kleber’s compositions display all the stability
and earnestness of the Bach period, but the habit of ‘coloring’ the
parts with meaningless ornaments soon took possession of organists
and for a period in the latter part of the century the misuse and
abuse of the art of _coloratura_ caused German organ music to become
utterly mechanical and conventional. The greatest of the colorists were
Ammerbach, organist at St. Thomas’ Church, Leipzig (1560-1571), the
famous Strasburg organists, Bernard Schmid (father and son), Jacob Paix
(1550-1590), and Johann Woltz.

As the seventeenth century dawned, the fashionable art of _coloratura_
waned and the old solid style of organ-playing inaugurated by Schlick
and continued faithfully by his followers, which had really never
been lost by the more obscure musicians, was gradually revived and
gained new strength. A new life-giving element of greatest importance
to organ music was the Lutheran chorale; from it the inane art of the
‘colorists’ received its real death-blow. Its introduction into the
church-service and the important place it held there opened up a new
perspective for German organists and offered an artistic opportunity
which finally they began to take advantage of. The people loved not
only to sing the chorales but to hear them played on the organ; the
organists naturally desired to please their listeners, and out of
the custom of organists to render the chorales about to be sung with
all the resources of their art, gradually arose the _Choralvorspiel_
or prelude. The more abstract contrapuntal treatment or elaboration
of chorale-melodies was abandoned and a new method of treatment
adopted that even up to the present time has failed to exhaust their
possibilities. The great plasticity of these chorale-preludes was
first revealed by Pachelbel; the elaboration of them was brought
to the highest perfection of expression and poetry by the immortal
genius of Sebastian Bach and their present-day possibilities have been
grandly demonstrated in the _Choral-fantasias_ of Max Reger. In the
chorale-prelude is to be found the basis of the solidity of style that
after Scheidt’s time has characterized German organ music, and in the
cultivation of this form the German organist has found the most ample
and satisfying opportunity for the exercise of his highest artistic
abilities. The Lutheran service gave far greater opportunities to the
organist than did the Roman service; in this fact is to be found one
powerful reason, among others, why German organ music advanced rapidly
while Italian organ music remained at a standstill.

The new change in German organ art is strikingly indicated by the
_Tabulatura Nova_, published at Hamburg in 1624 by Samuel Scheidt
(1587-1654) of Halle. The music in this important work is entirely free
from the pernicious influence of _coloratura_ and for the first time
chorales are treated as pure organ music. Scheidt, who was a pupil of
the great Dutch organist and teacher Sweelinck and a contemporary of
Frescobaldi, was one of the three great S’s of the seventeenth century
(the other two being Schütz of Dresden and Schein of Leipzig, all
three being born about the same time). He was one of the most famous
organists of the century and did much to set the seal of permanence
on the forms of organ music that henceforth were chiefly cultivated
by German organ composers. These forms were the figured chorale,
the prelude and fugue, the canzona, the toccata, and the fantasia.
Scheidt’s importance lies in his artistic treatment of the chorale,
an idea that was taken up with such success a hundred years later by
the great Bach. By the middle of the seventeenth century German organ
music had attached itself firmly to the solid ideals it has ever since
maintained.

Nuremberg, the old home of German art in South Germany, was also one
of the principal nurseries of early German organ art and held its
leading position until the beginning of the eighteenth century. The
first of the celebrated Nuremberg organists was Hans Leo Hassler
(1564-1612), one of the real founders of German music. He was organist
to the fabulously wealthy Fuggers in Augsburg in 1585 and after
passing several years in Venice as court-musician to Emperor Rudolph,
he accepted a position as court-organist at Dresden in 1608, where he
died. He was the composer of the melody to the chorale _Herzlich tut
mich verlangen_, which was such a favorite with Bach that he used it
in many of his chorale-preludes and also in the ‘St. Matthew Passion.’
His organ works were only three in number, but Ritter maintains that
he bore the same important relation to German music that the Gabrielis
bore to Italian.

Erasmus Kindermann (1610-1655) spent most of his life in Nuremberg. In
his _Harmonia Organica_ (published in 1645), consisting of preludes in
the twelve tones, he composed several strictly in the modern keys (C
major, D major, F major) and treated the pedal with great freedom.

The greatest of the Nuremberg organists and one of the most celebrated
of the seventeenth century was Johann Pachelbel (1653-1706). After
holding the position of organist at various places (among them Erfurt
in 1676, where he taught Christopher Bach, Sebastian’s older brother
and first teacher), he returned to his native city in 1695 as organist
at St. Sebald’s. His organ compositions were very important and
influential, among them seventy-eight chorale-preludes--many of merit
and long-standing popularity--several chaconnes, brilliant toccatas,
and chorale-fugues. He was the inventor of this last-named form, the
subject being the first line of a chorale in diminution. This form was
perfected by Sebastian Bach and in the present day has inspired Max
Reger to the composition of his great _chorale-fantasias_, for example,
_Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme_.

Augsburg became the chief centre of activity among the South German
Catholic organists as Nuremberg was the most influential centre of
the Protestant branch. Christian Erbach (1573-1628), organist of the
Augsburg Cathedral, wrote organ pieces in the style of Merulo and
Gabrieli, but in his ritual-music was much influenced by the Protestant
chorale-preludes, except that he employed modal harmonies. An important
Augsburg publication was _Ars magna Consoni et Dissoni_ (‘The Great
Art of Consonance and Dissonance’) by Johann Speth, the cathedral
organist, containing the best contemporary toccatas and magnificats,
and some important airs with variations. The first great name of this
group is Johann Jacob Froberger (about 1610-1667), who passed much of
his life in Vienna as court-organist. Ferdinand III sent him to Rome
(1637-1641) to study under Frescobaldi and he became one of the most
famous German organists and instrumental composers of the century. His
organ works--25 toccatas, 8 fantasias, 6 canzonas, fugues, etc.--are
important largely because of their great influence on J. S. Bach’s
development; his music sounds now more archaic than its date of
composition would indicate. Johann Kaspar Kerl (1621-1693), through
the munificence of Emperor Ferdinand III, likewise was sent to Rome to
study under Frescobaldi and Carissimi and exerted a wide influence as
organist and composer at Munich and Vienna. His published organ works
were largely toccatas and canzonas in the Italian style.

The most excellent and at the same time the last of the great German
Catholic organists until the nineteenth century was Georg Muffat
(about 1645-1704). This really great artist deserves a much deeper
appreciation than history has yet accorded him. His great work,
_Apparatus Musico Organisticus_ (1690), consisting of toccatas, a
chaconne, a passacaglia, and other pieces, displays as fine a quality
of artistic feeling as is to be found in the period before Bach.
‘There is a human feeling about the music of Muffat, which removes it
above mere counterpoint or exhibition of skill, and appeals to the
heart more than any of the earlier compositions.’[101] Ritter, in his
_Geschichte des Orgelspiels_, says of him: ‘In the toccata he surpasses
all previous German masters except Buxtehude. Inexhaustible in the
invention of new forms and possessing absolute mastery to express them,
he is the first who leads the hearer from the realm of mere sound into
that of real soul-inspired music.’

While organ music was thus developing in South Germany, a vigorous
school was formed in North Germany, which waxed strong largely under
influences that radiated from the great Dutch organist, teacher, and
composer, Jan Pieter Sweelinck (1560-1621), at Amsterdam. So many of
the leading organists[102] of the next generation in North Germany were
his pupils that he earned the title of ‘Organist-maker’ and virtually
became the founder of the North German school of organ-playing.
His organ works are the most important products of his genius as a
composer. He was the first to use the pedal as an integral part of the
fugue and was the inventor of the organ-fugue as a form evolved from
one subject with the gradual addition of countersubjects leading up to
an elaborate finale--a form which Bach especially perfected.

Hamburg was one of the most important centres of activity in the
progress of North German organ music. Here Heinrich Scheidemann
(about 1596-1663), who came of a family of organists, was the first
to attain distinction. He was followed as organist of St. Catherine’s
Church by his more famous pupil Johann Adam Reinken (1623-1722),
who had also studied with Sweelinck. Few of his organ compositions
have remained and these have no marks of special excellence, but he
gained a great reputation as a performer. He had a large four-manual
organ at St. Catherine’s and his great ability in performance and
in improvisation on chorales attracted people from distant places.
He was organist there for sixty years, retaining his full faculties
until his death at the remarkable age of ninety-nine. Sebastian Bach
twice journeyed on foot from Lüneberg to hear him play and was thereby
greatly impressed and influenced. On a later visit (1720), after Bach
himself had improvised for a half-hour on one of Reinken’s favorite
chorales, the Nestor of German organists, then ninety-seven years old,
exclaimed enthusiastically to the younger artist, ‘I thought this art
would die with me, but I perceive that it lives in you.’ The chief
characteristics of his organ-playing were unusual dexterity of foot and
finger and ingenious combinations of stops.

Dietrich Buxtehude (1637-1707), a Dane born at Helsingör, was the
greatest of the North German group of organists and exerted a still
more profound and stimulating influence on Bach. He was organist of
the Marienkirche at Lübeck from 1667 till his death. With one of
the finest organs in Germany at his disposal (three manuals with
fifty-three stops, of which fifteen were on the pedal), he made Lübeck
famous for its music. In 1673 he started an innovation in church-music
that attracted international attention. This was a series of sacred
concerts, called _Abendmusiken_, in connection with the Sunday
afternoon services during November and December of each year, at which
famous singers and players assisted. These performances were continued
until early in the nineteenth century. In 1705 Sebastian Bach, then a
youth of twenty years, walked fifty miles from Arnstadt to hear him
in one of these performances and in 1703 Handel visited Lübeck for
the same purpose. Buxtehude left many works for organ, the greatest
of which are his fugues. Two volumes (edited by Spitta) contain most
valuable music--in all about seventy works, consisting of passacaglias,
chaconnes, three toccatas, fifteen fugues, and a large number of
chorale-preludes. Many of these disclose the fact that he had brought
organ music to a point of development that needed only the touch of
Bach’s overpowering genius for consummation. Among the lesser figures
that surround the giant Bach, Buxtehude towers highest. He modulated
freely into all keys as Bach did, his harmonies were often as bold,
and he welded the old threefold North German fugue into a close-knit,
organically developed unity that clearly foreshadowed Bach’s more solid
and compact form.


                                   III

Between the sturdy schools of North and South Germany there grew the
Saxon or Thuringian, in which the best influences of both schools
interlocked. Here in central Germany, especially in Thuringia where
‘every peasant knows music’ (as an old proverb runs), there flourished
a school that ultimately was the greatest of them all and that gave
to the world Johann Sebastian Bach (1685-1750), not only the greatest
master of organ music, but one of the greatest master-minds of all time.

An analysis of the special qualities of mind and heart that raised Bach
to such a lofty pinnacle of inspired effort will be found in another
volume of this series. Our present purpose is concerned only with his
organ works. These are both numerous and epoch-making. They carry to
the highest point of perfection in workmanship and expression all the
instrumental forms that had been in the making for a century and a half
before his hand of magic touched them with its transforming power; and
their naturalness, spontaneity, grandeur, and nobility of content and
form have been at once the despair and inspiration of nearly every
great musician since his time. The organ was the central point in
Bach’s art, as the orchestra was in Beethoven’s; it was his natural
voice, his most sympathetic medium of expression. No matter what form
he chose to write in, the organist’s mode of thought and expression
is apparent--as much in his choral works as in those for clavier.
Robert Schumann says: ‘Most wonderful and bold in his primal element
is Bach at his organ. Here he knows no bounds and works for centuries
ahead. The majority of his fugues are characteristic pieces of the
highest order, often truly poetic creations, each one demanding its own
characteristic expression and its own color and light.’ Goethe ventures
the bold assertion that ‘in listening to Bach’s music it seems as if
divine harmony were intercoursing with itself, as might have happened
in the bosom of God before the creation of the world.’

Both of his parents died when Sebastian was ten years old and the boy
was brought up and educated by his elder brother Johann Christian,
a pupil of Pachelbel and organist and school-master at Ohrdruf. His
organ training was of the most meagre description, but he was an
indefatigable worker and thinker. His first organ position was at
Arnstadt in 1704, in 1707 he removed to Mühlhausen, from 1708 to 1717
he was court-organist at Weimar, from 1717 to 1723 court chapel-master
at Cöthen, and from 1723 till his death cantor of the Thomas School at
Leipzig. His organ works number about 150, of which only a small number
were published during his lifetime. Of the total number about ninety
are chorale-preludes (great and small). The remaining works comprise
nineteen large preludes and fugues, eight little preludes and fugues,
five toccatas and fugues, two fantastias and fugues, seven independent
fugues, four fantasias, a passacaglia, six sonatas, four concertos, and
several shorter pieces.

In his early productions Bach leaned strongly toward his predecessors
in art--Pachelbel, Buxtehude, Frescobaldi, Couperin--a period of
early dependence that is to be observed in the lives of all the great
masters. He learned alike from German, Italian, and French masters,
assimilated their best influences, and acquired all their resources,
thus enlarging his own field of vision before disclosing his own
individuality. Incredibly versatile as he is and unapproachable in many
fields, the forms that he endowed with unusual sublimity and grandeur
are the chorale-prelude, the toccata, and the fugue. Of these the
fugue reveals the most characteristic elements of his greatness. The
manner in which he treated the form of the fugue is unique, without
precedent or parallel in the history of musical art. This form, as Bach
found it, was mainly characterized by stiffness, monotony, and lack of
expression. Under his hands, the greatest contrapuntist of the world,
it acquired elasticity and flexibility; he made the seemingly dry and
hard form so serve his imagination that he was able to produce real
characteristic pieces, even musical poems, which reflect his innermost
feeling in all its different nuances.

The Toccata in F shows Bach’s genius in its most resplendent light.
This piece, with its imposing and truly modern pedal solos, its
intricate contrapuntal structure, its titanic energy, and its startling
modulations, excited the boundless admiration of Mendelssohn: ‘It
sounded as if the walls of the church might tumble down; what a giant
that Cantor was!’[103] Three of the other toccatas are powerful
compositions--the one in C major in the form of an Italian concerto,
and the two in D minor, one of which is sometimes called the ‘Dorian’
because there is no B-flat in the signature and the other, majestic and
brilliant.

Of the rich treasure of preludes and fugues that he left, the great
Leipzig pieces, written in the full maturity of his power, deserve
special mention. They are the ones in C minor, G minor, A minor, E
minor, and B minor--all ‘stupendous creations,’ as Spitta designates
them. The E minor Prelude and Fugue is called a ‘symphony’ by Spitta.
The Fugue, with its ‘wedge’ theme, is the longest of Bach’s fugues--231
measures--but the interest never flags for a moment. That Bach not
only ‘violated’ rules but made his own, is shown by the fact that he
introduces into his fugue a _da capo_--from measure 172 repeating
the beginning part. The lofty B minor Prelude and Fugue is replete
with glowing beauties. Of the highest type of perfection and full
of expressive eloquence is the E-flat major Prelude and Fugue. The
Fugue, which is sometimes called ‘the St. Anne Fugue’ from the chance
resemblance of its subject to the first line of an English hymn-tune of
that name, is built on the model of the old Italian threefold fugue,
in the last sections of which the subjects are combined and interwoven
with consummate skill.

The Fantasia in G minor is one of the most majestic works in the entire
literature of music. The Fugue associated with it is not as great as
the Fantasia, but is an exceedingly effective concert piece and a
masterful composition. It is a favorite not only with organists but
with all musicians, and has been transcribed for pianoforte by Liszt
and for orchestra by Abert. Its popularity with the general public is
due not a little to the unusually pleasing character of the subject
itself, which possesses all the jollity and grace of a dance-theme.
Bach’s fugue-subjects (and fugue-subjects in general) are seldom
interesting or pleasing as individual melodies. Their value is almost
wholly architectonic. The master architect will rear a structure of
significant beauty and imposing grandeur out of a mass of individually
uninteresting and meaningless brick and stone. In much the same way,
the composer views his fugue-subject mainly as a constructional item.
His interest is centred on the structure itself and the process of
construction. Notwithstanding this objective, impersonal point of view,
it is undeniably true that those fugues that have made the deepest
popular impression are constructed on subjects that are in themselves
melodically interesting, such as this G minor Fugue, the C minor
Fugue from the ‘Well-tempered Clavichord,’ and the C minor Fugue from
Mendelssohn’s Three Preludes and Fugues for organ.

In a class by itself is the wonderful Passacaglia in C minor, which
Bach wrote as an advanced exercise (a practice piece!) for the
two-manual and pedal clavichord. It consists of twenty variations on a
_basso ostinato_ of eight measures. The theme is announced by the pedal
alone _pianissimo_ and is repeated over and over again in one voice or
another while the other parts build up a structure of ever-increasing
elaborateness and magnificence, the whole concluding with a fugue whose
subject is derived from the _basso ostinato_.

The eight ‘Little Preludes and Fugues,’ so familiar to organ students
the world over, were composed probably for his own numerous pupils.

The six sonatas (or trios) of Bach were not written for the organ but
for the pedal-clavier for the use of his son Friedemann. However,
the wonderful three-part writing makes them especially suitable for
reproduction on the organ and affords excellent opportunity for color
and contrast in registration. They contain a wealth of musical ideas of
varying moods, character, and deep expression, full of soul and life,
and clothed in attractive and often playful technique, the highest
of Bach’s art--a constant source of inspiration to the organist that
will take the time to delve into their depths. They are not sonatas,
of course, in the modern sense of the word. Of special value may be
mentioned the following numbers from them: the first Allegro of Sonata
No. 1 in E-flat, the elaboration of which approaches the modern sonata;
the Largo and Finale (in reality a masterful fugue) of the Second
Sonata in C minor; the whole of the Third Sonata in D minor, the Adagio
being of especial beauty; the Andante and Allegro (Finale) of the
Fourth Sonata in E minor, in the Andante the harmonic effects being so
full and complete that one forgets that only three voices furnish the
material; the Largo of Sonata No. 5 with its rich figuration work; and
the first Allegro and the Largo of the Sixth Sonata in G major.

The real soul of Bach’s organ art is to be found in that numerous
group of his organ works that take the chorale for basis and
inspiration. Many of these are short compositions intended for use in
the church service, but many are long and elaborate and written for
concert use. They appear in three forms, the chorale-prelude (figured
and fugal), the chorale-fantasia, and the chorale-variation. The
signification of the chorale in the services of the Church to which
Bach had dedicated the full strength of his artistic powers sank deep
into his soul and the heart-beat of religious sentiment and devotion
constantly furnished stimulus and direction to his imagination and
intellect. His chorales frequently speak to us in a language suggestive
of words, but which words cannot express, the secret remaining in
the music. Inexhaustible are the forms that thus find characteristic
expression, born of the poetical suggestion. In the chorale ‘Through
Adam’s fall we all are doomed’ the fall into sin is suggested by the
ever-recurrence of the interval of a seventh in the bass. In _Christ,
unser Herr, zum Jordan kam_ the rushing waters of the river Jordan
are portrayed by the swift notes of the bass in the left hand with
16-foot tone, while the subject is played by the pedal with 8-foot
tone. In the variations on the chorale _Vom Himmel hoch da komm’ ich
her_ in canon-form, Bach astonishes with his almost superhuman mastery
of contrapuntal devices, but the expressive power never suffers, the
mathematical element and the musical fantasy joining in harmonious and
poetical union.

So many of Bach’s works have been transcribed for other
instruments[104] that the following comment by Busoni[105] will have
interest: ‘One finds among the master’s organ works pieces of a more
pianistic character, as one finds among the piano fugues some that show
the type of organ pieces. The technical manner of Bach’s writing is in
its essence the same for both instruments. The transcription of his
works from the organ to the piano (or _vice versa_) cannot, therefore,
be regarded as wrong, esthetically considered.’


                                   IV

The early organ masters in France were neither as numerous nor as
important as in either Italy or Germany, and no significant advance
came from France in this field. The organ was late in getting a
foothold in this country, there being no record of any church-organ
there before the twelfth century; no school of French composers for
the instrument appeared until the sixteenth century. In 1530 and 1531,
however, a five-volume collection of organ pieces was published in
Paris by the printer Pierre Attaignant, though no composers’ names are
given. This book gives a trustworthy indication of the French art of
organ-playing at that time. The collection consists of (1) original
organ music--preludes, (2) vocal music arranged for the organ--motets,
Te Deums, Kyries, and Magnificats in the eight modes, and (3) secular
songs and dance music intended for the house-organ or clavier. In
France, as elsewhere, no distinction was made in writing for clavier
and organ, though the latter enjoyed the preference, as it was also a
house instrument. The early French masters had a true understanding
of the nature of the organ. Their playing was neither frivolous nor
over-serious, but natural and free. A tendency to emphasize effective
and ingenious registration rather than the worth of the composition
manifested itself among French organists as early as the sixteenth
century and this has been a prominent characteristic of French
organ-music ever since. French organists of the sixteenth century,
however, seem to have possessed greater facility on the pedals than
their German contemporaries.

In 1626 Jean Titelouze (1563-1633), a priest of St. Omer, and canon
and organist of the Cathedral of Rouen, published at Paris ‘Magnificats
in all the Tones, with Versets, for Organ.’ His organ compositions
are of considerable merit and he may be regarded as the founder of
French organ-playing. The school of Titelouze produced two excellent
organists--Nicolas Gigault[106] (born 1645), who, as Fétis says, was
‘one of the good French organists of the seventeenth-century school,
which was superior to that of the eighteenth century’; and André Raison
(born about 1650), organist of the abbey of St. Geneviève in Paris,
published in 1688 his _Livre d’Orgue_ containing masses, an offertoire,
and a piece imitating Froberger’s descriptive music entitled _Vive le
Roy_, written for the festival which commemorated the recovery of Louis
XIV from illness. It was stated that the purpose of the book was ‘to
show organists, both male and female, who are shut up in provincial
cloisters, how to make use of the excellent novelties and the increase
in the number of keyboards introduced by modern organ-builders.’
Raison’s music shows, in the indicated stops to be used, that the
French preference for reed stops had already manifested itself.

Jacques Champion de Chambonnières (the last part of which name he
assumed when he married the heiress of an estate of that name)
was first chamber clavecinist to Louis XIII. His influence on the
development of organ music was almost entirely through his famous
pupils, of whom, like Sweelinck, he had many, among them Le Bègue,
d’Anglebert, and the elder Couperins. He died in 1670, but left no
contributions to the literature of the organ.

Nicolas Antoine le Bègue (1630-1702), organist to the king, in 1676
published three books of _Pièces d’Orgue_. He was a very skillful
organist and a thorough contrapuntist. His book contains offertories,
symphonies (the same in form that Handel later employed for his
overtures), Noëls, elevations, mass music, magnificats, preludes, solos
for various stops, trios for two manuals and pedal, and dialogues for
two manuals.

Jean Henri d’Anglebert, chamber clavecinist to Louis XIV, published in
1689 _Pièces de Claveçin_, with a supplement of some organ music. This
contains among other things a quartet for three manuals and pedal, two
of the parts to be played with one hand on two keyboards, which would
have been impossible on any organ of this period outside of France on
account of the distance between the keyboards. By the beginning of
the eighteenth century France possessed many large organs with three,
four, and sometimes even five manuals. The largest instruments had an
Echo organ, and the _Voix Humaine_ and Tremulant were as popular then
as now. The pedal-board had a much larger compass than on present-day
organs, extending from F below the present lowest C to thirty-six
notes; but the pedal had no 16-foot stops, only 8-and 4-foot, the pedal
being used, not for bass as now, but for carrying the tenor or subject.
It was later reduced to thirty notes, beginning with the lowest C as at
present.

The Couperin family played much the same important part in the
development of French music as the Bach family did in Germany and both
in the same field, that of instrumental music. For several generations
the Couperins were distinguished musicians; the post of organist of
St. Gervais remained in the family as a kind of ‘living’ from about
1650 until 1815. The most important and renowned member of this
family was François (1668-1733), called _Couperin le Grand_ because
of his acknowledged superiority in organ and claveçin-playing. He was
organist at St. Gervais in 1698, but was soon promoted to the position
of clavecinist and organist to the king. Notwithstanding his great
reputation as a performer on the organ, he wrote nothing especially
for that instrument. His paramount interest as a composer lay in the
development of the claveçin or harpsichord and his work indicates
the point of historical development where the organ and the keyboard
instruments of the claveçin or harpsichord type parted, each to travel
its own path independent of the other. His part in the creation of the
modern pianoforte school is discussed in another volume.

Louis Nicolas Clérambault (1676-1749), a pupil of André Raison and his
successor at St. Jacques, later at St. Sulpice, composed much organ
music, some of which has been newly edited by Guilmant in his _Archives
des Maîtres de l’Orgue_.

Louis Marchand (1669-1732) belonged to a family that was celebrated
in the annals of French music, mostly in the field of stringed
instruments. He published a volume of organ music, some of which has
been edited by Guilmant in the work just mentioned. He had a great
reputation as a player, but his compositions betray the trivial and
superficial musician. He was appointed court organist at Versailles and
for a time was very much the fashion as a teacher. But as a man he was
eccentric in manner and dissipated in habits--so much so that the king
is said to have insisted on paying half of his salary to his wife. This
incensed the musician, and one day he stopped playing in the middle of
a mass and walked out of the church. When the king indignantly called
him to account for his unusual behavior, he replied: ‘Sire, if my wife
gets half my salary, she may play half the service.’ In punishment he
was banished for a time and went to Germany. While in Dresden in 1717
he met Sebastian Bach and a contest between the two on the organ was
arranged, but to avoid inevitable defeat at the hands (and feet) of the
great German he suddenly left Dresden and returned to Paris, and the
contest never took place.

Far more important than Marchand as a musician was Jean Philippe
Rameau (1683-1764). While his chief fame rests on his operas,
theoretical works, and claveçin music, he won a great reputation as an
organist (in Clermont, Lille, and Paris), especially as an extempore
player, and was considered the greatest French organist of his time. He
published no music written especially for organ, however.

Dom Jean François Bedos de Celles (about 1714-1797), a Benedictine
monk, deserves mention here, not as an organist, but as a builder. His
book _L’Art du Facteur d’Orgues_ contains much valuable information
about the condition of French organs in the eighteenth century and
indicates that a great advance in organ-building was taking place.
The author gives much advice for effective combinations of registers
suitable for certain kinds of pieces; he finally says: ‘The more an
organist understands how to exhibit the resources of his organ, the
more will he please the public and himself.’

French keyboard music of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries
showed a marked preference for instruments of the harpsichord and
clavichord type. During the eighteenth century French composers for,
and performers on, these instruments were supreme in Europe, but
organ-music west of the Rhine has been, on the whole, quite unimportant
from early times until nearly the middle of the nineteenth century.

Organ-music in Spain and Portugal followed Italian and French models
and until about 1700 maintained a place of equal importance and worth
with that of Italy. It is worthy of mention that the first musician
to raise the standard of revolt against the mediæval system of tuning
and to advocate a system of ‘temperament’ was a Spaniard, Ramis de
Pareja, born in Andalusia about 1440. There are a few prominent names
among Spanish organists, such as Félix Antonio Cabezón (1510-1566),
Thomas de Santa Maria (died 1570), and Pablo Nassare (born 1664), but
no noteworthy progress was made here, organ music exhibiting the same
state of lethargy that was apparent in all Catholic countries during
the period from Frescobaldi until the middle of the nineteenth century.

With the Reformation the Netherlands divided along the line of
religious sympathies. Belgium remained true to the Roman Church and
her organ-music developed, as in France, according to the needs of the
Roman ritual. Holland, however, embraced Lutheranism and Calvinism,
and, as soon as Spanish rule was overthrown in 1581, took a prominent
lead, through her great organists, Sweelinck (whose work has been
already noted) and Anthony van Noordt (middle of seventeenth century),
in developing an organ style responsive to the needs of the Protestant
ritual.


                                   V

In England peculiar conditions have prevailed from very early times
in respect to organ-music. Early English musicians were easily the
peers of those of any continental country. Some of the oldest and most
famous organs were built in England and the house organ was cultivated
there with as much zeal and artistic energy as in any other country.
But, even after the Reformation, the choir has always dominated English
church-music and until very recent years the organ has been regarded as
wholly secondary in importance. All great English church-music up to
the present generation has been vocal. We find in the Anglican service
no counterpart of the chorale-prelude in the Lutheran service or the
canzona and toccata in the Roman. The organ in the Anglican service
has been employed consistently and primarily as accompaniment for the
highly-trained choirs and its independent use has been confined almost
exclusively to playing before and after the services.

Handicapped as it was by lack of appreciation within the Church,
organ-music was further retarded in its development by the curious
reluctance of English builders to adopt pedals and to give up the old
system of tuning. Until well into the nineteenth century very few
English organs possessed pedals and in these few the pedal-board rarely
exceeded an octave and a half in compass. In the matter of tuning, the
system of ‘equal temperament’ was not adopted for English organs until
more than a century after it had been firmly established in practical
use on the continent. Here again the domination of the voices in the
service is apparent. Whether this mechanical inferiority of the organ
was related to its secondary position in English church-music as cause
or effect, is not germane to our purpose to discuss.

So unimportant was the organ considered in early English church-music
that no cathedrals maintained organists until the time of the
Reformation, the singers taking turns at playing the instrument. Henry
Abington, a priest who died in 1497, is the first Englishman mentioned
as having possessed proficiency as an organist (at Wells in 1447 and
Master of the Chapel Royal after 1465), and his fame in this respect
rests wholly on his epitaph at Stonyhurst: ‘He was the best singer
amongst thousands, and besides this, he was the best organist.’

But organ music flourished in the palaces of kings and wealthy
noblemen, where organists and organ-makers were installed as regular
members of the households. The greatest epoch of English music was
also the most brilliant of English organ-playing. Prepared during the
reigns of Henry VIII and Queen Mary, it reached its culminating point
in Queen Elizabeth’s long reign (1558-1603). No examples of organ-music
prior to Elizabeth’s time have been preserved. The organ compositions
of the great Elizabethan organists were written for the house organ
rather than the church organ and are, therefore, scattered through the
numerous collections of music for the virginal,[107] for they were
playable on either instrument. Collections of music written for the
church organ, so common on the Continent, were unknown in England until
recent times.

When England espoused the cause of Protestantism, many of her Catholic
musicians escaped to the Continent, but many remained and were
protected by the Court from being molested as long as they kept their
private religious views to themselves. Among the latter were some of
the most famous organists and musicians of Elizabeth’s reign--Tye,
Tallis, Blitheman, Byrd, and Bull.

Dr. Christopher Tye (about 1515-1572) was organist at Ely from 1541,
and later became organist of the Chapel Royal. He was highly respected
for his great musical ability and brilliant education, and his style
of writing was scholarly, though singularly unaffected. According to
Anthony Wood he was ‘a peevish and humorsome man, especially in his
later days,’ and it is related that while he was playing one day in the
chapel of Queen Elizabeth, with whom he was a great favorite, ‘she sent
the verger to tell him that he played out of tune; whereupon he sent
word that her ears were out of tune.’ With him the most brilliant epoch
of English music begins.

Thomas Redford (died before 1559) was organist and choir-master at St.
Paul’s, London, about 1535. He had the reputation of being one of the
ablest instrumental writers of his time and left many organ-pieces.

Thomas Tallis (about 1510-1585) received his first appointment as
organist at Waltham Abbey. At the Dissolution he became one of the
organists of the Chapel Royal, which position he held until 1577
through the shifting religious changes of the troublous reigns of
Henry, Edward, Mary, and Elizabeth. He faithfully served the church of
his adoption by writing some of its finest early anthems, canticles,
and hymn-tunes. Though a famous organist, but few of his organ works
have remained.

William Byrd (1543-1623), one of the foremost composers of his period
and distinguished in all the forms then current, was a pupil of, and
worthy successor to, Thomas Tallis, whom he surpassed in everything
‘except in happy speculations.’ He served as organist of Lincoln
Cathedral from 1563 and became Gentleman of the Chapel Royal in 1569,
dividing with Tallis the duties of organist. The excellence of his art
is attested by his numerous church compositions and the instrumental
pieces, many of which are for organ, contained in the ‘Fitzwilliam
Virginal Book,’ the ‘Virginal Book of Queen Elizabeth,’ and ‘Lady
Nevill’s Virginal Book.’

Dr. John Bull (1563-1628) was the most famous virtuoso on the organ and
virginal of the latter part of the Elizabethan era. He was organist at
Hereford in 1582 and in 1591 followed his master Blitheman as organist
of the Chapel Royal. On Queen Elizabeth’s recommendation he was
appointed professor of music at Gresham College in 1596, which position
he held for eleven years. In 1613 he was compelled to ‘go beyond the
seas without license,’ as was the euphonious phrase for running away.
He became the Archduke’s organist at Brussels and four years later went
to Antwerp where he was cathedral organist until his death. He was a
curious personality, but a most excellent artist, exhibiting marvellous
contrapuntal skill and originality. In his preludes and fantasias,
notably in a Fantasia on the hexachord, his modulations and complicated
rhythms display a strong modern feeling.

One of the greatest names in the history of English church-music is
that of Orlando Gibbons (1583-1625), the last of the early school of
English church composers. In 1623 he became organist at Westminster
Abbey and was one of the most renowned organists of his time, but
published only a few pieces for keyed instruments--some dances and a
fantasia. All the great English composers of this period were also
great organists, for the chief musicians at the cathedral and Chapel
Royal were all organists. All excelled as extempore performers,
and, when solo work was required, they exercised their skill in
improvisation and felt small necessity for writing what they played.

At the beginning of the seventeenth century the musical art of the
English Church received a staggering blow from the fanatical ideas and
iconoclastic acts of the Puritans. Their misdirected zeal was aimed at
all art; choirs were abolished, paintings and organs were destroyed,
and priceless treasures were wantonly burned. After the restoration of
the monarchy in 1660 more liberal views prevailed and there quickly
followed a revival of musical activity. But only a few musicians
survived the years of artistic darkness under Puritan domination--they
had either emigrated or chosen other professions. The destroyed organs
were rebuilt with utmost haste and foreign organ-builders were summoned
to give aid. Among these were two Germans by the name of Schmidt, one
of whom became famous as Father Smith. These organs were still in a
primitive form, the pedal not being considered necessary and, indeed,
not being added until Handel in his concertos insisted on their use.
With the new era came also an influx of new ideas from the Continent.
Pelham Humfrey infused a more modern style into the music of the
cathedral service and the organ for a time was permitted to assume
the importance of a solo instrument.[108] Furthermore, the organ soon
became a feature of theatre and concert performances and the area of
its influence was thus widened.

John Blow (1648-1708) was one of the first of the noted musicians of
the ‘new school.’ He was chosen organist of Westminster Abbey at the
age of twenty-one. Eleven years later his pupil, Purcell, was appointed
to this office at Blow’s request, but at Purcell’s death Blow was
reinstated. He also held the post of organist and composer to the king.
He was a voluminous composer, writing a vast amount of church-music
and also a considerable number of voluntaries for the organ, of which
relatively little has been published. His style is strong, healthy,
and, in harmonic progression, frequently in advance of his time. One
of his organ pieces is a ‘Voluntary for ye Cornet stop,’ beginning
with a short fugal passage which introduces the solo. It is dignified
and effective, but the popularity of such solo effects led in the next
century to a style that brought about a debasement of organ-music that
was far-reaching in its effects.

William Croft (1677-1727), though a distinguished composer and
organist, did not exert as wide an influence on organ-music as some of
his contemporaries. He was a pupil of Blow and after his master’s death
succeeded him as organist of Westminster Abbey. He wrote twelve organ
voluntaries, but they are not published.

Maurice Greene (1696-1755) was organist at St. Paul’s, London, in
1718, and succeeded Croft as organist and composer to the Chapel Royal
in 1727. In 1730 he was appointed professor of music at Cambridge
University. He was a prolific and able composer and rendered most
valuable service to English cathedral music. He also published several
organ voluntaries, in which he departed from the serious and fugal
style of his choral music and employed such ear-tickling solo stops as
the Cornet and Vox Humana to an excess that brought into existence a
host of tawdry and vulgar imitations.


                                   VI

There remain to be mentioned the two most distinguished names in
English music--Purcell and Handel--the one, who undoubtedly would
have founded a school of real English music had not his life been cut
off at so untimely an age, the other, who, though a German, actually
did found a great English school a half-century later on the lines so
brilliantly suggested by his English predecessor. The year 1658 may
be said to mark the beginning of a new era in English music; in it
occurred the death of Cromwell, who, with all his greatness, stood for
Puritan ideas of artistic repression, and the birth of Henry Purcell
(1658-1695), who raised the musical fame of England to a height it had
never before attained. Though he died at the age of only thirty-seven,
like Mozart and Schubert he wrote with amazing swiftness and produced
an astonishing quantity of music in every form, far in advance of his
English, and most of his continental, contemporaries in quality and
workmanship. His music that falls within the scope of the present
inquiry consists of some four-part sonatas and suites for organ or
harpsichord. One of the most excellent of these is a Toccata in A,
which possesses such unusual musical qualities for that period that it
was for a long time considered to be one of Sebastian Bach’s earlier
works. The modern feeling for key seems to be fully established in
Purcell’s music. In this respect and in the fluency and expressional
power of his counterpoint he anticipated Bach by fully three decades.
Purcell was organist of Westminster Abbey in 1680 and of the Chapel
Royal in 1682.

George Frederick Handel (1685-1759) was the greatest representative
of English music in the eighteenth century and one of the most
brilliant organists of his time; his influence in both choral and organ
fields was supreme in England until the advent of Mendelssohn. Handel’s
organ-playing brought him fame earlier than did his operas. In 1703 he
visited Lübeck with his friend Mattheson and listened with deep respect
to Buxtehude at the _Marienkirche_. One purpose of the visit was to
look into the possibilities of succeeding the venerable organist, but
one condition of the succession was that the person who accepted the
appointment should also marry the daughter of the retiring organist.
After looking over the situation both Handel and Mattheson declined the
honor. During his Italian visit (1706-1709) he met Domenico Scarlatti,
who was only two years his senior, and together they journeyed from
Florence to Rome, forming a friendship that lasted throughout their
long careers. In Rome Cardinal Ottoboni arranged a sort of competition
between them. The contest was undecided on the harpsichord, but when
Handel had played on the organ, Scarlatti was the first to acknowledge
his friend’s superiority, saying that he had not believed such playing
as Handel’s was possible. His London experience began in 1711, when he
created a great sensation by the production of his opera _Rinaldo_,
written in fourteen days by piecing together arias and choruses of
earlier composition. The _Utrecht Te Deum_ in 1713 further increased
his fame in England and in 1719 he was appointed director of the Royal
Academy of Music, which became the scene of his operatic triumphs and
trials. Later in life he turned his attention wholly to the composition
of religious works and produced in quick succession the sublime
oratorios that brought him immortality. It was in connection with these
oratorios that his organ concertos came into existence. Handel had a
great reputation as an organist, especially as an extempore player.
This reputation he was wise enough to capitalize and, as a means of
attracting larger audiences to hear his oratorios, he exhibited his
skill as performer between the acts, to the great delight of his
listeners. He was not always in a mood for extemporizing, however, and
his thirty-three concertos for organ (most of them with orchestra) were
written for such occasions, many being merely transcriptions of his
concertos for various other instruments. They are cast in the form of
either the Italian concerto or the French overture. Since they were not
written for use in church, but in the theatre, they are for the most
part in light and flowing vein, brilliant in character but free from
triviality, and serve as excellent display pieces. They contain fine
music and must be regarded as good works of art. The most important
are No. 1 in G minor, No. 4 in F major, and No. 10 in D minor. These
works became so popular that Burney says,[109] ‘public players on keyed
instruments totally subsisted on these concertos for nearly thirty
years.’

Sir John Hawkins[110] gives a glowing account of Handel’s
organ-playing. ‘As to his performance on the organ,’ he says, ‘the
powers of speech are so limited that it is almost a vain attempt to
describe it otherwise than by its effects. A firm and delicate touch,
a volant finger, and a ready delivery of passages the most difficult,
are the praise of inferior artists; they were not noticed in Handel,
whose excellences were of a far superior kind, and his amazing command
of the instrument, the fullness of his harmony, the grandeur and
dignity of his style, the fertility of his invention, were qualities
that absorbed every inferior attainment. When he gave a concerto, his
method in general was to introduce it with a voluntary movement on the
Diapasons, which stole on the ear in a slow and solemn progression; the
harmony close-wrought and as full as could possibly be expressed; the
passages concatenated with stupendous art, the whole at the time being
perfectly intelligible and carrying the appearance of great simplicity.
This kind of prelude was succeeded by the concerto itself, which he
executed with a degree of spirit and firmness that no one could pretend
to equal. Such, in general, was the manner of his performance; but who
shall describe its effects upon the enraptured auditory? Silence, the
truest applause, succeeded the instant that he addressed himself to the
instrument, and that so profound that it checked respiration and seemed
to control the functions of nature, while the magic of his touch kept
the attention of his hearers awake only to those enchanting sounds to
which it gave utterance.’


                              FOOTNOTES:

[96] Quoted in _Sammelbände der Intern. Mus. Gesellschaft_, Vol. III,
page 614.

[97] For example, Merulo published many _ricercari da cantore_.

[98] When Willaert, who had previously occupied several important
positions, became _maestro_ at St. Mark’s, his annual salary was only
seventy ducats or about $88. This was gradually increased to two
hundred ducats ($250), which was continued to his successor.

[99] _Geschichte der Instrumentalmusik_, p. 123.

[100] Franz Commer’s _Sammlung der besten Meisterwerke des 17 und 18
Jahrhunderts_ and Ritter’s _Geschichte des Orgelspiels_. Also Haberl’s
selections from Frescobaldi’s organ pieces.

[101] C. F. Abdy Williams: ‘The Story of Organ Music,’ p. 120.

[102] Among his famous pupils were Samuel Scheidt (1587-1654) of
Halle, Jacob Prætorius (1586-1651) of Hamburg, Heinrich Scheidemann of
Hamburg, Melchior Schildt (about 1592-1667) of Hanover, Paul Seifert
(died 1666) of Danzig, and Johann Adam Reinken of Hamburg.

[103] In a letter to his family dated September 3, 1831, at Sargans,
Switzerland.

[104] Chiefly organ works transcribed for the piano by Liszt, Tausig,
Busoni, and d’Albert; but also the ‘Two-part Inventions’ transcribed
for organ with a third part by Max Reger, and the Chaconne for violin
alone transcribed for organ by Wilhelm Middelschulte.

[105] See Vol. II of his edition of ‘Well-tempered
Clavichord’--article, ‘Transcriptions.’

[106] In Guilmant’s _Maîtres de l’Orgue_ there is a charming ‘Noël’ by
him.

[107] Then the chief representative of keyed instruments in England, as
the organ was in Germany and Italy, and the claveçin in France.

[108] A voluntary ‘upon the organ alone’ was permitted after the Psalm
and after the blessing.

[109] Vol. IV, p. 429.

[110] History of Music, p. 912 (Reprint: London, 1853).




                               CHAPTER XVI

                   ORGAN MUSIC AFTER BACH AND HANDEL

     The eclipse of organ music after Bach; Bach’s pupils and
     other organ masters of the classic period--Organ composers
     of the romantic period: Mendelssohn, Liszt, Rheinberger
     and others--Great French organists of the nineteenth
     century--English organists since Handel.


                                   I

The hopelessness of maintaining organ-music on the height to which
Bach had raised it was obvious enough as soon as he had passed from
the stage of which he had been the most brilliant adornment. Johann
Joachim Quantz, in his book, _Versuch einer Anweisung die Flöte zu
spielen_ (1752), expresses the fear that after his (Bach’s) death the
art of organ-playing, which he had brought to the highest perfection,
might deteriorate or possibly disappear, ‘as there are only a few
that cultivate it.’ He complains that ‘good organists are very rare,’
but intimates that one reason is that they receive very little
encouragement, since the majority of them are paid ‘such miserably
small salaries.’ But while Bach’s creative genius had said the last
word in organ music in the particular forms which he employed, he
handed down his wonderful art of playing to a galaxy of brilliant
pupils and especially to his oldest son, Wilhelm Friedemann.

For a century after Bach’s death, however, the attention of musical
Europe was absorbed in following other lines of development and his
influence was not immediately apparent. He was so far in advance of
his age that the essence of his art had to wait several generations
till the world had progressed enough to perceive it and in a few years
after he had passed he became only a tradition. The organ was soon
overshadowed in importance by new media of musical expression; the
orchestra and the rapidly developing pianoforte, the opera and the
oratorio, the symphony and the sonata, offered novel and more alluring
opportunities for the imagination and creative fancy of composers
than did the sombre, polyphonic forms that seemed best suited both to
the church services themselves and to the organ of the period as an
interpreting instrument. And neither the organ nor organ-music was
rescued from the secondary and unimportant position into which both
fell after Bach’s time, until organ-builders in the last half of the
nineteenth century began to introduce mechanical improvements which
made the instrument capable of meeting the modern requirements in
expressional power.

Though the instrument itself lagged pitiably behind other instruments
in development, Germany, France, and England continued to bring forth
great organists. Wilhelm Friedemann Bach (1710-1784), the special
favorite of his father, was exceedingly talented as a performer and was
considered the finest organist in Germany after his father’s death.
He was organist of the _Sophienkirche_ in Dresden (1733-1747) and of
the _Marienkirche_ in Halle (1747-1764). He had a great reputation
for improvisation, of which he was especially fond, and he wrote very
little for the organ--chorale-preludes, trios, canons, and some fugues,
of which the one in F major is especially notable.

Several of Sebastian Bach’s pupils were famous organists in their
time and good composers. Johann Philip Kirnberger (1721-1783) wrote
chorale-preludes and fugues, but is best known to the musical world by
his theoretical work, _Die Kunst des reinen Satzes_. Johann Frederick
Doles (1715-1797) was cantor of the Thomas school in Leipzig from
1756 to 1789. He wrote in rather popular vein and, strange indeed
for a pupil and successor of the great Cantor, actually demanded the
banishment of the fugal form from the church service. Johann Ludwig
Krebs (1713-1780), whom Bach playfully called ‘_der einzige Krebs in
meinem Bache_’ (‘the only crab in my brook’), was considered by Bach to
be his best pupil. He wrote chorale-fugues, preludes, and fugues. His
fugue in G major is still an attractive concert piece. Johann Schneider
(1702-1787), organist at St. Nicholas’, Leipzig, gained great fame as
an improvisator on the organ. Johann Christian Kittel (1732-1809),
the last pupil of Sebastian Bach, who brought his master’s traditions
into the nineteenth century, was organist at Erfurt from 1756 till his
death. He was a famous player and teacher and an excellent composer.
Among his celebrated pupils were M. G. Fischer and J. C. H. Rinck.

Johann Georg Albrechtsberger (1736-1809), famous as a theoretical
writer, composer, and teacher, was court-organist in Vienna (1772) and
kapellmeister at St. Stephen’s (1792). For the organ he wrote eleven
sets of fugues and three of preludes, but the vast majority of his 261
compositions are unpublished. His fame lingered longest as a theorist
and among his pupils were names that later became celebrated--Seyfried,
Hummel, and Beethoven. Beethoven studied counterpoint with him, but he
expressed only a poor opinion of his pupil’s talent.

Georg Joseph Vogler (1749-1814), best known as Abbé Vogler and
immortalized in Robert Browning’s well-known poem of that name, was a
pupil of Padre Martini in Bologna and of Vilotti in Padua. After going
to Rome he entered the priesthood, later returning to Germany and
sojourning a few years in each of various places. He invented a system
of simplification for the organ and applied it to a portable instrument
which he called ‘orchestrion,’ with which he travelled over Europe as
concert-organist. One of his inventions was the so-called ‘resultant’
16-foot tone, produced by uniting an 8-foot pipe with a 5-1/3-foot
(‘quint’) pipe. This device gave rise to the ‘resultant’ 32-foot tone
still employed by some organ-builders. He also advocated discarding
mixtures altogether. His compositions no longer possess interest. His
presumption and self-confidence are well illustrated by the fact that
he published (Peters’, Leipzig, 1810) twelve chorales by Sebastian
Bach ‘corrected’ (_umgearbeitet_) by himself and analyzed by C. M. von
Weber, who at that time was his pupil at Darmstadt.

Johann Christian Heinrich Rinck (1770-1846) was a voluminous writer
for the organ. His compositions show fluent melody and clear form, and
his style is dignified and simple, but his ideas lack musical depth.
He was wise enough not to attempt to follow Bach in fugue writing,
recognizing, as he said to Fétis, that if he were ‘to succeed in
composing anything worthy of approval, it must be on different lines
from his (Bach’s).’ Rinck’s ‘Organ School’ is still well-known in
England and America.

Michael Gotthard Fischer (1773-1829), organist at Erfurt, was a
most excellent player and a composer of many organ-works--preludes,
fantasias, chorale-preludes--that even to-day have not lost their
attractiveness.


                                   II

Johann Gottlob Schneider (1789-1864) was one of the greatest German
organ virtuosi of the nineteenth century and did a great deal to
popularize organ-music by his many concert tours. His few published
works--fugues, fantasias, preludes--occupy an honorable place. Like so
many of the great organists of the earlier periods, he was famous for
his improvisation.

Adolf Friedrich Hesse (1809-1863), organist of St. Bernard’s, Breslau,
was another celebrated and much admired organ virtuoso. He created a
sensation by his performances, especially his pedal-playing, at the
inauguration of the new organ at St. Eustache, Paris, in 1844. When
later he concertized in England (1852) he protested vigorously against
the unequal temperament of the English organs. He wrote preludes,
fugues, fantasias, études--mostly practical works in clear form, with
smooth-flowing melody and simple, popular content.

August Gottfried Ritter (1811-1885), organist of the cathedral in
Magdeburg, was one of the greatest German organ masters of the last
century, famous alike for his wonderful improvisation and as a
virtuoso. He wrote four fine sonatas for the organ, of which opus 19 in
E minor and especially opus 23 in A minor (dedicated to Liszt) are of
great value. Other works are chorale-preludes, fugues, and variations.
Of greatest value are his _Kunst des Orgelspiels_, an instruction book
in two volumes, and _Geschichte des Orgelspiels im 14-18 Jahrhunderts_,
an admirable and scholarly scientific treatise, which has been freely
drawn upon, since its publication in 1884, by most writers on organ
history.

Karl August Haupt (1810-1891), organist of the Parochialkirche, Berlin
(1849), and director of the Royal Academy of Church Music (1869),
was an organ master of the first rank, equally great as virtuoso and
extempore player in the style of Bach, for whose works he was ever an
enthusiastic propagandist. He published the organ works of Thiele,
his friend and predecessor at the Parochialkirche. He drew a host
of American students to him. One of these, Mr. E. E. Truette in the
_Étude_, is authority for the statement that they numbered over 150 and
he mentions the names of Eugene Thayer, Clarence Eddy, J. K. Paine,
George W. Morgan, Arthur Bird, and Philip Hale.

Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy (1809-1847) was an organist of fine
attainments and wrote most gratefully for the instrument. Himself a
Bach enthusiast and gifted with extraordinary contrapuntal facility,
Mendelssohn was the first composer for the organ after Bach to approach
him in the happy combination of nobility of musical ideas and technical
finish of workmanship. He has earned the gratitude of organists by his
three preludes and fugues (of which the ones in G major and C minor
are possibly the best) and six sonatas, all free from pedantry and
full of refreshing melodic invention, romantic warmth of harmony, and
in attractive technical garb. The preludes are less valuable than the
sonatas. Four of the six sonatas have chorales for their principal
thematic material and these are the most valuable of the six. In the
use of the chorale in his organ sonatas and his oratorios, Mendelssohn
shows his close artistic kinship with the great Cantor; the chorale
made a deep appeal to him and stirred the flight of his imagination to
finest effort. These are sonatas only in name, the strict sonata-form
not being observed. In the powerful first movement of No. 1 (F minor),
the chorale _Was mein Gott will, gscheh allzeit_ (‘What my God wills,
be always done!’) is beautifully interwoven. The simple, expressive
Adagio is followed by a very attractive Recitativo which leads into
the brilliant and dashing Finale. The Adagio of No. 2 (C minor) is of
finest beauty and the best movement of this sonata, which is clear
in form and melodious, as Mendelssohn always is. No. 3 (A minor) has
only two movements, the first of grand effect, presenting an excellent
double fugue on the chorale _Aus tiefer Not schrei ich zu dir_ (‘In
deep distress I cry to Thee’). No. 4 (B-flat major) is constructed
with four movements and is a brilliant, effective concert sonata,
the Allegretto (F major) being especially attractive and written in
Mendelssohn’s typical fluent manner. No. 5 (D major) is a beautiful
work throughout. In No. 6 (D minor) Mendelssohn uses the chorale _Vater
unser im Himmelreich_ as the basis of four variations built up to a
great climax and a fugue constructed on the first line of the chorale.
The Finale (D major) almost breathes vocal expression.

Robert Schumann (1810-1856) was never an organist, but his interest in
contrapuntal study led him to write six fugues on the name B-A-C-H,
of which No. 5, the little staccato fugue, is the most original. The
canons which he wrote as studies for pedal-piano are also suitable and
effective for organ. Of these the B minor Canon is best known as an
effective concert-piece.

Franz Liszt (1811-1886) contributed very original and effective music
for the organ, most of which inclines towards orchestral effects
and some of which opened up new possibilities for the organ, as his
compositions for piano did for that instrument. In addition he wrote
many smaller pieces (including transcriptions) for organ or harmonium,
that are harmonically most piquant. His best works for organ are:
Variations on a Basso Ostinato (_Crucifixus_ of the B minor Mass
by Bach), Prelude and Fugue on B-A-C-H, _Evocation à la Chapelle
Sixtine_, Litany: _Ora pro nobis_, and Fantasia and Fugue on _Ad nos,
ad salutarem undam_ (theme by Meyerbeer), this last being his greatest
work for organ.

Johann Friedrich Ludwig Thiele (1816-1848) was organist of the
Parochialkirche, Berlin, from 1839 to 1848. Although his early
death at the age of thirty-two prevented the full development of
his extraordinary genius, Thiele has left several very important
organ-works--‘Chromatic Fantasy,’ written at the age of seventeen;
three concert-pieces, all majestic compositions; Theme and Variations
in A-flat major and in C major, both brilliant and effective
concert-pieces.

Immanuel Gottlob Friedrich Faisst (1823-1894), organist in Stuttgart
and director of the Stuttgart Conservatory, published several organ
pieces; his Sonata in E major is a masterly work.

The career of Julius Reubke (1834-1858), the son of an organ-builder
and a fine pianist and organist, was cut short by death when he was
only twenty-four years old. His only organ-work, a sonata entitled
‘The 94th Psalm,’ is one of the grandest and most powerful works that
have ever been written for the instrument; its position in literature
is really unique. It reveals the inexhaustible fantasy, the profound
depth, and the impetuous temperament of the young composer, who with
sure hand molded his own form by breaking the old sonata-form. This
magnificent sonata introduced a new epoch, the orchestral treatment of
the organ. The early death of Reubke and Thiele was the most serious
blow to modern progressive organ-music in Germany.

Gustav Adolf Merkel (1827-1885), a pupil of Johann Schneider and
organist of the Kreuzkirche and Hofkirche in Dresden, was one of the
greatest organists and organ-composers of his period and he has left
works of great beauty and value, though much of his writing sounds dry
and pedantic now. He wrote nine sonatas, one of them for two performers
and double pedal. Of these sonatas the best are opus 42 in G minor and
opus 118 in D minor. Other works are fantasias, preludes, and études.
Merkel was a masterly contrapuntist and falls in the direct line of
succession to Bach and Mendelssohn. His sonatas are on the whole the
best works of this class between Mendelssohn and Rheinberger.

Johannes Brahms (1833-1897), the great master of German song and
symphony, gave a few valuable works to the organ: the very scholarly
Fugue in A-flat minor, Chorale-Prelude and Fugue on _O Traurigkeit, O
Herzeleid_, and eleven chorale-preludes (his last work), of which two
deserve especial mention--_Es ist ein Ros’ entsprungen_ and _O Welt,
ich muss dich lassen_.


                [Illustration: Modern Organ Composers:]
           Top: Alexandre Guilmant and Charles Marie Widor
               Bottom: Joseph Rheinberger and Max Reger


Joseph Gabriel Rheinberger (1839-1901) easily takes rank as one
of the best German organists and teachers of the latter part of the
nineteenth century and at the same time one of the greatest organ
composers of the century. From 1867 he was professor of composition
and organ-playing in the Munich Conservatory and in 1877 was appointed
director of the Court Church music in Munich. He has exerted a marked
influence on music in America through his numerous pupils, among
whom may be mentioned Horatio W. Parker and George W. Chadwick. His
many-sided genius expressed itself in various fields--orchestral,
choral, church, chamber, pianoforte, and organ. In all of these
fields he showed himself in close sympathy with modern harmonic
development and tendencies, but, strange to say, not with Wagner’s
methods and theories; yet he combined with a progressive modern spirit
a mastery of fugal and contrapuntal forms equalled by none of his
contemporaries. While he avoided treating the organ orchestrally,
he was among the first to employ in organ-forms the rich harmonic
vocabulary of the romantic composers who had already given to the
literature of the pianoforte and the orchestra so many masterpieces
of warm and glowing tone-color. His organ compositions are pure music
of an elevated type, equal in their own individual way with the best
orchestral art of his period. In most of Rheinberger’s music, however,
there is present a certain quality of reserve that never permits the
expression of exuberance of feeling or exalted enthusiasm. They reveal
an astonishing variety, a fertile imagination, deep earnestness, and
complete mastery of form and style. The most important of these works
are two concertos for organ with orchestra in F major (opus 137) and
G minor (opus 177), and twenty sonatas, which alone constitute a
monumental contribution to organ literature. Rheinberger seems to have
attempted for the organ-sonata something of the same task of setting
free from the trammels of tradition and of developing along the line
of its own inherent needs that Beethoven solved so successfully for
the pianoforte-sonata. These two forms of the sonata, however, have
very little in common and Rheinberger, in his remarkable series, gave
the strongest impetus to the development of the organ-sonata as a
distinct music-form since Mendelssohn’s noble works. The particular
form which he seemed to adopt for it as a kind of type was in three
movements, the first being in the nature of a prelude, the last a fugue
or some distinctly contrapuntal form, and the intervening movement an
intermezzo in slow tempo. Most of his sonatas are constructed in this
form, though occasionally he employs four movements, as in the Sonata
in E minor, No. 8, where a Scherzoso appears between the Intermezzo
and the final movement. He frequently uses with telling effect the
modern device of unifying the movements through the employment in the
last movement of themes heard in the first. In the Pastoral Sonata,
No. 3, the Eighth Gregorian Psalm Tone, upon which the opening
movement (Pastorale) is constructed, appears again with fine effect
as a contrasting subject to the fugal theme in the last movement.
Plain-song melodies frequently appear in his earlier sonatas. Many of
the sonatas--especially No. 8 (opus 132) in E minor, No. 9 (opus 142)
in B-flat minor (dedicated to Guilmant), No. 12 (opus 154) in B-flat
major, No. 14 (opus 165) in C major, and No. 20 (opus 196) in F--are
among the noblest examples of organ-music. Among his shorter organ
compositions of large value are Twelve Characteristic Pieces, many
trios for two manuals and a pedal, besides several pieces for organ and
violin.


                                   III

French organ-music presents very little interesting material for the
historian to dwell upon until after the middle of the nineteenth
century, when a new stimulus broke in upon the dreary triviality which
had been so long its chief characteristic. The most important French
organist of the last half of the eighteenth century was Nicolas Séjan
(1745-1819), who was appointed organist of Nôtre Dame in 1772, of St.
Sulpice in 1783, of the Invalides in 1789, and of the Chapel Royal in
1814. Carlyle in his ‘French Revolution’ relates a thrilling experience
through which this organist passed at the hands of the revolutionists
in 1793, when they seized the church of Nôtre Dame and made it the
scene of a sacrilegious orgy of unusually revolting character.
Demoiselle Candeille, a dancer from the Opéra, was established at
the altar as the Goddess of Reason and La Harpe harangued the crowd,
declaring all religion abolished. As a crowning defiance to traditional
religion this was followed by a ball, at which Séjan was forced to play
dance-music on the great cathedral organ as the howling rabble danced
and shouted street songs.

Alexandre Pierre François Boëly (1785-1858) was a musician of most
serious aims and made persistent efforts to acquaint Frenchmen with
the works of Bach and other great composers for the organ, but with no
success. For several years he was organist at St. Germain l’Auxerrois,
Paris, but his zeal in serving his own high artistic ideals cost him
his position. He wrote four offertories and many other pieces for organ.

François Benoist (1794-1878), organist of the Royal Chapel and
professor of organ-playing at the Conservatoire from 1819, left twelve
books of organ works entitled _Bibliothèque de l’Organiste_. Pieces
from this collection that have been reprinted, presumably the best, are
in the prevailing sentimental and trivial style of this period. He was
the organ-teacher of Saint-Saëns.

Just before the middle of the nineteenth century a movement for the
restoration of Catholic church-music was inaugurated in Bavaria
by Dr. Karl Proske (1794-1861), and Ratisbon became the centre of
this movement. A collateral movement for the reform of plain-song
was started by the ‘Benedictines of Solesmes,’ an order of the
‘Congregation of France’ founded at this monastery in 1833 by Dom
Prosper Guéranger. Two French organists who had taken holy orders
allied themselves to this latter movement and aided greatly in the
reformation of church-music, especially by their writings on the
relation of the organ to plain-song and on other aspects of Gregorian
music. These were Louis Lambillotte (1797-1857) and Théodore Nisard,
the pen name of Abbé Xavier Normand (born in 1812).

The first of the modern French organists to have any perceptible
influence on present-day organists was Louis James Alfred Lefébure-Wély
(1817-1869), who was organist at the Madeleine, Paris, from 1847 to
1858 and of St. Sulpice from 1863 till his death. He was a thorough
musician, a skillful performer on the organ and piano, and a composer
in many fields. He was regarded as possessing marvellous powers of
improvisation and his compositions for a time enjoyed great popularity
(‘The Monastery Bells’ was the best known of his salon-music for
pianoforte). Much of his organ-music partakes of the nature of his
‘fashionable’ pianoforte-music; it is light, if not trivial, and is
very melodious, but, despite its former great popularity, devoid of
artistic value. However, his name frequently appears on present-day
organ recital programs.

Antoine Édouard Batiste (1820-1876), organist of St. Nicolas des Champs
(1842-1854) and of St. Eustache (1854-1876), was a fine teacher,
one of the best performers of his time, and a prolific composer of
organ music, much of which, however, is of the popular, tuneful,
ear-tickling, and easy-to-play variety. Several of his nearly 300
compositions rise above this level and, though showy and somewhat
sentimental, are excellent for their type. Few organ compositions have
had such widespread popularity as some of Batiste’s, as, for example,
the Communion in G, the Offertory in E, and several of the ‘Grand
Offertories,’ including the St. Cecilia Offertories, among the best
known of which are the ones in D minor, C minor, and F. The vogue of
Batiste is by no means full-spent, but the gradually widening demand
for organ-music of a more serious nature and a finer workmanship is
automatically lessening the appeal of such music, which is merely
sensuously pleasing.

Much more serious in artistic purpose and effective in healthy
influence was Nicolas Jacques Lemmens (1823-1881), an eminent Belgian
organist and composer who early came under the influence of German
organ-music while a student of Adolph Hesse at Breslau, whither he
was sent at government expense. Here he spent a year in study (1846),
cultivating a deep love for Sebastian Bach and acquiring the traditions
of his great organ-works. When he returned to Belgium, he carried
with him a testimonial from his teacher, stating that he could play
Bach as well as he himself did. As professor of organ-playing at the
Brussels Conservatory (1849-1858) he exerted a wide influence and in
1879 founded a school at Malines, Belgium, under the auspices of the
Belgian clergy for the training of Catholic organists and choirmasters.
Among his famous pupils were Guilmant and Widor. He wrote many
excellent organ compositions, about sixty in all, including sonatas
(especially the Sonata Pontificale), offertories, fantasias, etc.,
and his instruction book _École d’Orgue_ was adopted in the Paris and
Brussels Conservatoires and in other schools; but his chief influence
was in laying the foundations of a more serious style of organ-music in
Flanders and France. He was far more successful than Boëly in arousing
interest in Bach and he astonished the French by his fine playing of
the great German master’s organ works. His example in this direction
was followed by many of the most distinguished French organists,
as Franck, Saint-Saëns, Widor, Guilmant, Salomé--all of whom were
enthusiastic worshippers of the genius of the Leipzig cantor. The most
widely known of Lemmens’ organ pieces, though by no means the best, is
probably the Fantasia in D minor, popularly called ‘The Storm.’

Jan Albert van Eijken or Eyken (1823-1868), a distinguished Dutch
organist in Amsterdam and later in Elberfeld, received his musical
education at the Leipzig Conservatory and later, at Mendelssohn’s
suggestion, under Johann Schneider at Dresden. He wrote important
works of great merit for the organ, including three sonatas, of which
the third in A minor deserves special mention, twenty-five preludes,
a large number of chorale-preludes, a toccata and fugue on B-A-C-H,
and other pieces, all in the elevated style of German Protestant
organ-music.

Samuel de Lange (born 1840) is another Dutch organist and composer who
was celebrated in Germany, Austria, France, and England as a concert
performer. He taught successively in the Music Schools of Rotterdam
and Basel, and in the Conservatories of Cologne (1876) and Stuttgart
(1893). He wrote seven organ-sonatas and many smaller pieces--all
containing valuable music.

Three modern Belgian organists have achieved substantial reputations.
Alphonse Jean Ernest Mailly (born 1833), ‘first organist to the King,’
became known as a brilliant virtuoso and teacher (in the Brussels
Conservatory from 1868), and the composer of many compositions for the
organ, among them fantasias, characteristic pieces, and a much-played
sonata. His pupil, Edgar Tinel (1854-1912), wrote one valuable work
for the organ, Sonata in G minor, of which the Finale is especially
vigorous in content and treatment. In 1881 he succeeded Lemmens as
director of the Institute for Sacred Music at Malines and in 1896
accepted an appointment as teacher of counterpoint and fugue in the
Brussels Conservatory. His fame as composer rests more largely on
his choral and church music. Joseph Callaerts (1838-1901), a native
of Antwerp and a pupil of Lemmens at the Brussels Conservatory, was
organist of the Cathedral of Antwerp and teacher of organ in the Music
School from 1867. Some of his organ-music borders on the popular, yet
much of it possesses dignity, if not great depth of thought.

The greatest figure in French organ-music is César Auguste Franck
(1822-1890). What Sebastian Bach is to German musical art, Franck is to
French--the great Gothic cathedral architect in tones. By virtue of his
works, which in many respects overshadow everything before or after him
in French organ literature, and the beneficent effect of his personal
influence, which included within its radius many of the greatest of
present-day French composers, Franck was an epoch-making personality
and the spiritual head of a new French school which has powerfully
effected French music since his time. A deep sincerity, religious in
its intensity, coupled with a certain indefinable mysticism, pervades
all of his compositions. Never writing for effect or applause and
possessing a Bach-like fondness and capacity for intricate polyphonic
structure joined with an extremely modern freedom in his use of
harmonies, Franck created works of sublime beauty that will live long
after the works of many of his now famous contemporaries are forgotten.
His abilities as an organist (he had the reputation of being a fine
one) were overshadowed by his compositions, but he was professor of
organ-playing at the Paris Conservatoire and organist at St. Clotilde
from 1872 till his death.

His organ works are not numerous, but they are exceedingly important,
consisting of three sets of pieces.[111] In the first set of six
pieces, No. 2, _Grande Pièce Symphonique_ in F-sharp minor, is
appropriately called symphonic. Its themes are noble and full of
deepest expression, and are developed with consummate mastery, while
the harmonic scheme is always novel and fascinating. No. 3--Prelude,
Fugue, and Variations in B minor--is a work of the first rank and
displays to fine advantage his mastery of the resources of the organ
and the technical means of expression. The Pastorale in E major, No. 4,
is an especially interesting and grateful concert-piece and the Finale,
No. 6, is brilliantly built up to a powerful climax. In a second set,
consisting of three chorales, though all are valuable, the best are the
first one in E major with its beautiful melodic lines and its ingenious
harmonic effects, and the third one in A minor, which is Bach-like in
its imposing dignity. The third set comprises three effective concert
numbers--Fantasia in C major, which again reveals his indebtedness
to Bach in the skill with which he superimposes a most expressive
theme upon a delicately constructed canon, Cantabile in B major, and
_Pièce Héroique_. Of these the best is the Cantabile with its rich and
interesting harmonies and expressive melodies. Despite the marvellous
beauty and noble power of Franck’s musical thoughts, one cannot refrain
from the occasional wish that he had exercised more conciseness in
their development. At the organ he was a dreamer of seraphic visions
and he sometimes forgot that his listeners were apt to be uninspired
mortals.


                                   IV

The reluctance of English organ-builders, referred to in a previous
chapter, to adopt the mechanical improvements introduced into
Continental organs, naturally retarded the progress of English
organ-music. After Handel, although England had good organists, little
of value was produced in organ composition until almost the present
generation. Excellent compositions were written in the style of Handel
and, later, of Mendelssohn, but originality in musical material or
treatment was almost wholly absent.

The best English organists and organ-composers of the eighteenth
century were the following: Dr. Thomas Arne (1710-1778), William Boyce
(1710-1779), John Stanley (1713-1786), a remarkable organist who
was blind from the age of two and yet who distinguished himself as
composer, performer, and teacher; James Nares (1715-1783), Benjamin
Cooke (1734-1793), in one of whose fugues the pedal takes the subject,
an unusual procedure in English organ-music of this century; Thomas
Sanders Dupuis (1733-1796), one of the best organists of his time;
Jonathan Battishill (1738-1801), a remarkable extempore performer; John
Christmas Beckwith (1751-1809), also famous for his improvisations; and
Charles Wesley (1756-1834), a nephew of the great Methodist leader. The
musical forms employed by these organist-composers (all of the above
wrote more or less for the organ except Boyce, Arnold, and Battishill)
were chiefly concertos and fugues in the style of Handel, and
voluntaries. In the time of Dupuis a form of voluntary came into vogue
that soon became stereotyped, conventional, and banal. It consisted
of three or four movements usually in this order--a slow movement in
three-pulse rhythm for the diapasons, a solo for cornet or trumpet with
accompaniment of bass only, and closing with a fugue. The first two
movements were almost invariably uninteresting and dull, but the fugues
showed that English composers of the period could acquit themselves
creditably in forms that demanded learning rather than originality and
musical feeling.

Samuel Wesley (1766-1837), brother of the Charles Wesley mentioned
above, was the foremost English organist of his time and the first
really great figure in English organ-music. He was a fine extempore
player, the composer of much excellent organ-music (11 concertos and
a large number of voluntaries, interludes, preludes, and fugues),
and a close student and ardent admirer of Bach. From 1800 he was a
most zealous and persistent propagandist for the German master’s
works and especially excelled as a performer of his fugues. As he was
an excellent violinist, Bach’s violin works also received frequent
performances in public concerts at his hands. The first English edition
of the ‘Well-tempered Clavichord’ was published by him in 1810 in
collaboration with C. F. Horn and he was instrumental in procuring the
publication of an English translation of Forkel’s life of Bach. His
music is more serious than the prevalent style and while he is not a
great composer, judged by Continental standards, his influence was
far-reaching and of utmost importance to English musical life, in that
he gave substantial dignity to the organ as an interpreting instrument
and induced a widespread interest in more solid organ-music, especially
in Bach.

Early in the nineteenth century ‘arrangements’ began to be made for
organ from other works, vocal and instrumental, chiefly of German and
Italian classical composers. One of the earliest to start this custom
was John Clarke-Whitfeld (1770-1836), organist of Hereford Cathedral
and professor of music at Cambridge University. His arrangements were
from the vocal works of Handel (1809), and as a substitute for the
ability to create original music, they presented worthy compositions
of a contrapuntal character suitable for organists to perform. But the
arranging of pieces for the organ soon extended to other kinds of vocal
music, to symphonies and forms of instrumental music quite foreign to
the nature and idiom of the instrument, and this practice developed
into a craze for arrangements and adaptations which lasted throughout
the nineteenth century and which still persists, especially in England
and America.

William Crotch (1775-1847) was a prominent organist and composer whose
appointments were mostly at Oxford. He wrote concertos for organ with
orchestral accompaniment and fugues for the organ alone, and made many
adaptations of Handel’s oratorios for the organ. He was evidently a
scholarly composer, for some of his themes were carefully phrased,
an unusual procedure for his time. Crotch was one of the earliest to
indicate the exact tempo he desired for his music by such mechanical
means as a swinging pendulum. In a footnote to an Introduction and
Fugue on a subject by Muffat, written in 1806, he says: ‘A pendulum of
two feet length will give the time of a crotchet (quarter-note).’ About
twenty-five years later Maelzel’s metronome was beginning to be known
in England, and, when he published some fugues and canons in 1835, he
indicated the tempo by such comments as ‘Crotchet equals a pendulum of
sixteen inches; Maelzel’s metronome, 92.’

It will be of interest in this connection to note an earlier method of
determining the tempo of a piece by the ingenious device of comparison
with the duration of the pulse-beat. Johann Joachim Quantz (the music
teacher of Frederick the Great), in his _Anweisung die Floete zu
spielen_ (1752), gives the following interesting table for determining
the rate of speed:

‘In ordinary time (measure),

_Allegro assai_, for every half-measure, the time of one beat of the
pulse,

_Allegretto_, for every quarter-note, the time of one beat of the pulse,

_Adagio cantabile_, for every eighth-note, the time of one beat of the
pulse,

_Adagio assai_, for every eighth-note, the time of two beats of the
pulse.’

Vincent Novello (1781-1861), the founder of the well-known publishing
house of Novello and a celebrated organist and composer, wrote no
organ-music, but his name became familiar to every English organist
through his ‘Cathedral Voluntaries,’ These were motets and anthems
by the old English church writers, such as Gibbons, Blow, and Tye,
arranged for organ use, much as the early Venetian organists arranged
the motets and sacred madrigals of their time for keyboard instruments.

English organ-music continued to be either obvious imitation of
Handel, Mozart, Haydn, and, after 1845, Mendelssohn, or arrangements
and adaptations of German classical music. Thomas Adams (1785-1858),
noted for his improvisations; Sir John Goss (1800-1880), the greatest
church musician of his time and organist of St. Paul’s Cathedral for
thirty-four years; Samuel Sebastian Wesley (1810-1876), son of Samuel
Wesley mentioned above, who, like his father, was an enthusiastic
admirer of Bach’s works and an exceptionally fine extempore player,
and who for a time was considered the finest organist in England--all
wrote voluntaries, interludes, fugues, and andantes for organ in this
style, though some of their anthems and ‘services,’ particularly those
of Wesley, belong to the finest examples of English church-music of any
period.

Henry Smart (1813-1879), who became blind about 1864 and henceforth
was compelled to dictate his compositions to an assistant, was
an exceptional organist and a composer who displayed many modern
qualities of interesting harmony in advance of most of his English
contemporaries. He wrote voluminously for the organ--fifty preludes
and interludes, andantes (especially the one in A major), marches,
variations, and postludes.

Edward John Hopkins (1818-1901), for nearly sixty years organist of
Temple Church, London, possessed the sterling qualities of the best
English organists and exerted a wide influence through his church-music
and particularly his book, ‘The Organ: Its History and Construction,’
written in conjunction with Dr. E. F. Rimbault (1816-1876), which has
long enjoyed the distinction of being a standard work on this subject.

William Spark (1823-1897), a pupil of S. S. Wesley, was a celebrated
recitalist and from 1860 organist of Leeds Town Hall. While holding
an appointment at St. George’s, Leeds, he had organized the People’s
Concerts, the popularity of which had led to the erection of the Town
Hall. A magnificent instrument of four manuals and 110 stops was
installed in it and dedicated in 1859, and soon thereafter Dr. Spark
received the appointment of borough organist and for years he gave two
public recitals on it each week. He was a noted lecturer and writer
on musical subjects and from 1869 till his death was editor of ‘The
Organists’ Quarterly Journal,’ devoted to original compositions. His
compositions (a Fantasia, a Sonata in D minor, and other pieces) were
strongly influenced by Mendelssohn, whose music was now the model for
all English musicians as Handel’s had been in the years preceding
Mendelssohn’s advent.

Sir Frederick Arthur Gore Ouseley (1825-1889) presents the unusual
spectacle of an amateur musician rising to the important position
of professor of music at Oxford University and becoming one of the
most influential musicians in the United Kingdom. Though an excellent
organist and composer for organ, he never held a position as organist.
He devoted a considerable fortune to the founding and maintenance of a
church[112] in which the musical service was of the highest order and a
college for the special training of choristers. Through these channels
and his Oxford professorship he wielded a large influence on the young
church musicians of his time. His organ compositions--eighteen preludes
and fugues, a sonata, three andantes, etc.--were for the most part in
the style of Mendelssohn.

The first place among English concert-organists was long held by
William Thomas Best (1826-1897), who was one of the greatest virtuosos
of the nineteenth century. For nearly forty years (from 1855 to
1894) he was organist of St. George’s Hall, Liverpool, where his
recitals became a feature of the city’s musical life and gained for
him an international reputation. An event in his life that attracted
world-wide notice was his journey in 1890 to Sydney, Australia, where
he inaugurated the mammoth organ in the new Town Hall with a series of
twelve recitals. This organ, the largest in the world, has five manuals
and 126 speaking stops. He published several valuable contributions
to organ-literature--six concert-pieces, a Sonata in D, a Toccata
in A, several fantasias and fugues on English Psalm-tunes, and many
preludes on Psalm-tunes in the style of Bach’s chorale-preludes, etc.
He was best known, however, through his admirable ‘Organ Arrangements
from the Great Masters,’ his editions of Handel’s organ-concertos and
Mendelssohn’s and Bach’s organ-works, and his two text-books, ‘The Art
of Organ-Playing’ and ‘Modern School for the Organ.’

Of recent years composers in England have been less exclusively
occupied with choral and church music, for the so-called musical
renaissance, which is now bringing England once more to the forefront
of musical nations, is due largely to the deeper interest composers
have been taking in the modern orchestral idiom, the impressionistic
tendencies of contemporary instrumental music and the nationalistic
expression which owes its impulse to the recent folk-song revival
movement. Nevertheless meritorious works for the organ continue to
be produced by most of the present-day English composers, and more
especially by men like Alan Gray, A. M. Goodhart, Ernest Halsey, James
Lyon, T. Tertius Noble, C. B. Rootham and W. Wolstenholme.


                              FOOTNOTES:

[111] Edition Durand, Paris.

[112] The college and church of St. Michael and All Angels, Tenbury,
Worcestershire, of which he was rector in addition to his Oxford
professorship, were dedicated in 1856.




                             CHAPTER XVII

                          MODERN ORGAN MUSIC

     Supremacy of modern French organ music; Saint-Saëns;
     Guilmant: sonatas and smaller works--Widor: organ symphonies;
     Dubois; Gigout and other French organ-writers--German
     organ composers; Piutti; Klose; Reger: chorale-fantasias;
     Karg-Elert and others--Organ music in Italy; Capocci; Bossi;
     Busoni and others--English organ composers since 1850--Organ
     music in the United States; early history; Dudley Buck;
     Frederick Archer and Clarence Eddy; contemporary American
     organ composers.


                                   I

It is always an interesting and fruitful task to dive beneath the
surface of historical events and discover the contributing causes that
have led to the supremacy of certain nations at certain periods in
certain departments of musical activity. For the past three decades
at least, French organ-music has occupied a position of supremacy
in certain important respects, among which may be named brilliance
of technical finish, glowing variety of tone-colors as expressed in
skillfully thought-out registration, interesting and piquant rhythmical
figuration and melodic outline, combined with modernity of harmonic
treatment. A group of elder composers, of whom Saint-Saëns, Guilmant,
Widor and Dubois are the chief ornaments, laid the solid foundation
of this school into which they were careful to build a deep and
intelligent appreciation of Bach’s organ art, which had only recently
been transplanted into France. Rooted in such a fertile soil French
vivacity and lightness of feeling took on a deeper color and a richer
luxuriance that combined substance with beauty of external expression.
In this genial and healthy atmosphere the younger generation of French
organists have lived and from its stimulating nourishment they have
developed many fascinating traits of strong and virile individualism.

Charles Camille Saint-Saëns (born 1835), the Nestor of French
composers, has demonstrated an unusual versatility in composition
and has contributed to nearly every field of musical activity. He is
not only a great pianist but also an organist of great ability and
from 1858 to 1870 was the organist at the Madeleine, Paris, where
he became famous for his improvisations and his many excellences as
a performer. Under the spell of his imagination the organ becomes a
flexible and elastic instrument of which he demands pianistic lightness
and orchestral richness of color. In this respect the few organ
works of Saint-Saëns stand at the head of all French contributions
to organ literature. Freedom from all scholastic tradition and the
improvisation-like character of most of his organ works make them
highly interesting. The Fantaisie in D-flat major (opus 101), his best
work, is appropriately named, for it is music without prearranged
plan and is harmonically most piquant, especially the ending with its
descending harmonies over an organ-point. His three Rhapsodies are all
brilliant and attractive concert-pieces, as are also his Preludes.
Only in the Fugues associated with these Preludes does Saint-Saëns, in
common with all French composers except César Franck, fall short--the
fugue is essentially the property of German art.

Felix Alexandre Guilmant (1837-1911), one of the most celebrated
French organ composers and virtuosos, extended his fame by many concert
tours throughout Europe and two in the United States (in 1893 and
1903). The larger part of his compositions is for organ. These show
rich, fluent melody, always clear form and a rare skill in utilizing
the possibilities of organ tone-color. The popularity of his works
among organists is enhanced by the moderate technical demands required
for their performance. Guilmant possessed astonishing facility in
improvisation (an interesting feature on most of his concert programs)
and won the admiration and respect of musicians of all countries by his
propaganda for the classical masters. His historical recitals at the
Trocadéro during the Paris Exposition of 1878 attracted international
notice and later he published a large and valuable collection entitled
_Archives des maîtres de l’orgue_. From 1871 to 1902 he was organist at
La Trinité, Paris, which position he gained by his remarkable playing
at the inauguration of the organs at St. Sulpice and Nôtre Dame. His
organ compositions are numerous and highly original. The most important
of them are the eight sonatas. Of these the first sonata in D minor,
opus 42, is the favorite one among organists and the finest in breadth
of conception and unity of construction. It is grateful, effective
concert music, very clear in form and typically French in invention.
The first movement is powerful and majestic, the Pastorale tender and
most expressive, and the Finale a brilliant display-piece with its
toccata-like motive. This sonata is also published as a symphony for
organ and orchestra--a most impressive work. Sonata No. 3 in C minor,
opus 56, is a fine work with an excellent Finale (Fugue). Sonata No.
5 in C minor, opus 80, possesses a strong, passionate first movement,
an effective Scherzo with its ingenious little staccato fugato and a
Finale that is one of Guilmant’s best and most forceful movements.
The sonata is dedicated to Clarence Eddy and in the last movement
the composer ingeniously and tactfully builds his theme from the
initials of his own name and that of the American organist--C-G-E-A.
The sixth sonata, opus 86. is a beautiful work in all its movements.
Sonata No. 8 in A major, opus 91--he calls it ‘Symphony for organ and
orchestra’--has an especially attractive Scherzo and the Finale is
brilliant and strong.

Besides the sonatas, Guilmant has written prolifically in smaller
forms and in various styles, in all of which he makes excellent
practical use of the possible effects of the instrument for which his
music is so well adapted. The ‘Fugue in D’ is one of the strongest
French fugues and shows how deeply he had lived into Bach’s favorite
form. The ‘Religious March’ is cleverly constructed on a theme from
Handel’s ‘Messiah’ and is built up with an original secondary subject
(a smooth, brilliant fugato) to an imposing climax. The ‘Funeral March
and Seraphic Song’ enjoys deserved popularity. The Finale (‘Seraphic
Song’) is especially notable with its double pedal effect (the melody
being played with the right foot) and sparkling harp-like arpeggios
on the manuals. In all his writings Guilmant reveals a fanciful
imagination and is always sure of good effect. In ‘Lamentation,’ for
example, he displays his artistic resourcefulness in transforming the
sad march-like theme (in the pedal) of the first part into a theme of
religious consolation at the end (Hymn: _Jerusalem convertere_).


                                   II

Charles Marie Widor (born 1845), organist of St. Sulpice in Paris
since 1870, is the most distinguished of the living French organists
and organ composers. Having succeeded César Franck as professor of
organ-playing at the Conservatoire in 1890 and Dubois as professor
of composition in 1896, he occupies a position of extraordinary
importance in contemporary French organ-music as composer, teacher
and performer. While he is known in America almost exclusively by his
activities associated with the organ, he has written extensively for
the pianoforte, the voice and the orchestra (two symphonies, three
concertos, etc.) and much in chamber-music forms. His best writings for
organ are ten symphonies which together constitute one of the noblest
gifts that any composer has ever made to organ literature. In these
works he shows himself a thoroughly representative French composer,
combining all the brilliant qualities of the modern French school.
Influenced somewhat by Liszt and Berlioz in his earlier works (the
first series of symphonies), he represents the finest progress in the
French art of organ-playing in the last three decades.

His first eight organ symphonies (in reality sonatas) were published
in two series--opus 13 (Nos. 1-4) and opus 42 (Nos. 5-8). These are
in a class by themselves and deserve especial attention and study.
The title ‘symphony’ is often justified in the enlarged form used
and in the elaborate development of individual movements. Most of
them contain from four to six movements. In the first symphony in C
minor the best movements are the first, second and fifth. The first
two movements of the second in D are the most attractive. No. 3 in E
(a kind of suite, consisting of Prelude, Minuet, March, Canon, Fugue
and a brilliant Finale) is the easiest of the symphonies and of less
importance than the others. No. 4 is excellent throughout, the first
and fourth being possibly the best movements. The first of the second
series of symphonies--No. 5 in F--is probably the most popular of the
ten among organists, since it possesses the double merit of being fine,
inspiring music and at the same time offering excellent opportunity
to display both the performer and the resources of the modern organ
to good advantage--especially in the first movement (_Allegro vivace_
in variation form), in the second (_Allegro cantabile_) and in the
_Finale_ (Toccata) with its brilliant staccato technique. No. 6 is
musically far superior to No. 5 and is one of the most masterly works
in the entire organ literature, the first movement being particularly
imposing in its breadth and grandeur of conception, and the second
rich in noble sentiment. In No. 7 the fourth and last movements are
especially interesting. No. 8 is one of the most beautiful of Widor’s
works--the first movement being of brilliant effect and the second full
of musical warmth.

In addition to these eight, Widor has written the _Symphonie Gothique_
in C minor, opus 70, and the _Symphonie Romane_ in B minor, opus 73.
The former is one of his most notable compositions; in the first
movement sombre-hued, suppressed emotion is portrayed in a most
interesting harmonic garb, while the fine melodic line of the second
movement forms effective contrast, and the Finale displays brilliant
technical features. In the first movement of the _Symphonie Romane_
there is a very ingenious and original elaboration of a Gregorian chant
used as theme. The Cantilena (third movement) is lovely music and the
Finale brilliant and dashing. The _Symphonia Sacra_, opus 83, is a
massive work for organ and orchestra constructed on a theme borrowed
from the melody of the old Latin hymn of St. Ambrose (fourth century),
_Veni redemptor gentium_, a hymn which Martin Luther translated for
Johann Walther’s _Gesangbuch_ (1524) under the title of _Nun komm der
Heiden Heiland_. Upon this chorale (which Bach has also used in several
of his organ preludes) Widor builds up a mighty Gothic cathedral in
tones, in the construction of which organ and orchestra vie with each
other in supplying vital plastic material. The employment of the
chorale in this modern French work, coming as it does contemporaneously
with Reger’s remarkable Chorale-Fantasias in Germany, is evidence that
the resources of the old church-chorale have not been exhausted and
that the classic circle beginning with Pachelbel and Bach has expanded
its circumference to embrace congenial masters from any country; and
here the modern Frenchman, Widor, touches elbows with the German,
Reger. This interesting work was given its first American performance
by Wilhelm Middelschulte with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra in
February, 1911.

Clément François Théodore Dubois (born 1837), organist at the
Madeleine from 1877 to 1896 (succeeding Saint-Saëns) and director of
the Conservatoire, after Ambroise Thomas’ death, from 1896 to 1905,
occupies a respected position as an organ composer. Much of his best
composition, however, is in other fields. His shorter organ pieces
are numerous and generally effective, especially for church use.
His melodies are mostly noble and fluent and his harmony modern and
interesting, inclining toward orchestral effects. The pedal part
frequently lacks independence. These compositions are so well known
that it would be superfluous to name more than a few of the more
familiar ones: _Messe de Marriage_, _Fiat Lux_, ‘Hosanna,’ ‘March
of the Magi’ (with the highest B held through the entire piece,
representing the star in the East), and _In Paradisum_.

Eugène Gigout (born 1844), organist of St. Augustin and director of an
organ school in Paris, is one of the first names among French writers
for organ. He inclines more to the classical style than do most of
his French colleagues. Among his best pieces are _Prière en form de
Prélude_, _Pèlerinage_, _Andante varié_, _Marche religieuse_, _Marche
funèbre_, _Andante Symphonique_.

Théodore César Salomé (1834-1896), for many years second organist at La
Trinité, is best known by his Sonata in C minor, an effective work.

Samuel Alexandre Rousseau (1853-1904), pupil of César Franck and
chapel-master of St. Clotilde, Paris, wrote valuable compositions for
the organ that show much creative power. Of these the _Double Thème
varié_ is the best.

Leon Boëllmann (1862-1897) was a fine organist in Paris, the full
development of whose artistic powers was prevented by his early death.
He was nearly equally successful in all styles of composition, leaving
no less than sixty-eight published works. The _Suite Gothique_ in
C minor is his most popular organ work. He also wrote a _Fantaisie
dialoguée_ for organ and orchestra.

Ferdinand de la Tombelle (born 1854), a pupil of Guilmant and Dubois
at the Conservatoire at Paris, has written much organ music that has
enjoyed a measure of popularity both in England and America.

The school of younger French organ composers shows a well-defined
tendency to adopt an impressionistic style, without losing, however,
the characteristically French brilliance, grace and melodic charm.
Among its leaders will be found Joseph Bonnet (born 1884 at Bordeaux),
organist at St. Eustache and Guilmant’s successor at the Paris
Conservatoire. Other young French composers are A. Maquaire, a pupil
of Widor, whom he assists at St. Sulpice; Charles Quef, organist at La
Trinité; J. Ermand Bonnal, and others.


                                   III

Germany always has been, and still is, the special champion of
intellectual organ music, as France has been of brilliant, melodious
and colorful organ music. Bach and the churchly function of the organ
have been the two factors in German organ music that have determined
its lines of development almost up to the present. The concert organ
placed in public halls, that has been such a prominent element in the
development of organ music and its popular appreciation in France,
England and America through the giving of concerts or recitals, has
only recently made its appearance in Germany. There the organ is
still a church, not a recital, instrument. Then, too, modern German
organ-builders have been much slower than either French, English or
American builders in adopting mechanical improvements. Until very
recently an organ suitable for the adequate performance of a monochrome
Bach fugue has been the ideal of the German builder, and at the opening
of the twentieth century there were hundreds of such organs in large
German churches, with eighteenth-century mechanical appliances. The
‘swell-box’ was not adopted until late in the nineteenth century; and
the wonderful development in nineteenth-century German orchestral art
found echoes only here and there in German organ music. In the past
three decades, however, some magnificent modern instruments have been
installed in Germany and there are already abundant evidences that a
progressive spirit has taken firm hold upon its organ-builders and its
organ-music. At present Germany possesses but few composers for the
organ whose works have exerted large influence, but these are very
important in their relation to the development of organ music.

Carl Piutti (1846-1902) was born in Elgersburg, Thuringia, and educated
at the Leipzig Conservatory, where he taught from 1875 until his death.
After 1880 he was organist at the Thomas Church. Of his comparatively
few organ compositions, his Sonata in G minor, opus 22, deserves
special mention; it is imposing in its proportions and is one of the
most brilliant examples of modern German organ art.

Ernst Hans Fährmann (born 1860), organist of the Johanneskirche in
Dresden, is an excellent composer for his instrument. His best work is
Sonata in C major, opus 22; the Sonata in A minor, opus 18, is also a
brilliant and effective work.

Friedrich Klose (born 1862 in Karlsruhe, lives in Munich) has written
much for orchestra with organ, but has contributed one important
work for organ alone--Prelude, Double Fugue and Chorale (Chorale at
the conclusion for 4 trumpets and 4 trombones). This work, which is
dedicated to Anton Bruckner, had its origin in an improvisation by
Bruckner in Bayreuth. Klose, an enthusiastic admirer of the Viennese
master, uses the theme of Bruckner in building up an imposing, powerful
work--very impressive in the introduction and majestic in its great
climax (over an organ-point of thirty measures).

Max Reger (born 1873 at Brand, Bavaria) is the greatest living master
of organ composition. Astounding mastery over the technical side of
composition (he is probably the greatest contrapuntist since Bach),
wonderful richness in his harmonic formations, and a phenomenal power
of expression, are some of his admirable traits. He is the leader
of the ultra-modern German school and, though still a comparatively
young man, is one of the most prolific writers in all musical history.
Of his first hundred opuses, twenty-two are for organ, each ranging
in size from a set of from four to ten pieces to a sonata or a
chorale-fantasia. He is a distinct innovator in his harmonic scheme,
but is often accused of lacking warmth. Intensely modern in his
harmonic feeling, his novel harmonies do not spring so much from chord
movement in the ordinary sense as from the happy sounding together of
independently moving melodies. The influence of his exuberant polyphony
is everywhere felt in his writings. He is clearly an intellectualist
and his art appears at its highest in the most complicated structures,
such as the chorale-fantasias and variations, where he presents
movements of sublimest beauty and greatest depths, as only a great
master can.

The chorale-fantasias of Reger cultivate a new field, suggested,
however, by Sebastian Bach in his one example, _O Lamm Gottes,
unschuldig_, where he composes three verses, not variations. The
characteristic is that each verse, according to the poetic suggestion
of the text, assumes an entirely original form, but all are organically
molded into one whole. At the end there usually appears a colossal
fugue, where the melody of the chorale is interwoven with the themes
of the fugue. His great chorale-fantasias are: _Ein’ feste Burg_;
_Freu’ dich sehr, O meine Seele_; _Wie schön leuchtet der Morgenstern_;
_Straf mich nicht in deinem Zorn_; _Alle Menschen müssen sterben_;
_Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme_. Next in importance come the Fantasia
on B-A-C-H, opus 46, and the Symphonic Fantasia and Fugue, opus 57.
There are two sonatas--opus 33 in F-sharp minor and opus 60 in D
minor--and several sets of short pieces. Among the latter group several
of the Monologues (opus 63), and several of both opus 59 (Benedictus
and Pastorale in particular) and opus 69 are favorite numbers with
recitalists.

Sigfrid Karg-Elert (born 1878, lives in Leipzig), though a young man,
is an important figure in German music of to-day. He has already
published over a hundred works and they bear the stamp of talent of the
highest order. He is a modernist of pronounced, sometimes extravagant,
type in his harmonic feeling and combines with this a brilliant style
of expression. His Passacaglia in E-flat minor is a scholarly work;
the Sonatina No. 1 in A minor, opus 74, is built on large lines,
notwithstanding the title; of his groups of smaller pieces, some of
the better known are Three Impressions, opus 72 (‘Moonlight,’ ‘Night’
and ‘Harmonies of Evening’), and Ten Characteristic Pieces, opus 86
(_Prologus Tragicus_, ‘Impression,’ ‘Canzona,’ etc.).

The most prominent of living Danish composers for the organ is
Otto Malling (born 1848, living in Copenhagen), whose works are
both numerous and strikingly individual. The majority of his organ
compositions take the form of mood-pictures inspired by biblical
subjects, most of which centre around the life and times of Christ, as
the ‘Holy Virgin’ suite of six pieces, opus 70 (‘The Annunciation,’
‘Mary visits Elizabeth and praises God,’ ‘The Holy Night,’ etc.).


                                   IV

Until the last quarter of the nineteenth century organ music in Italy
had remained practically where Frescobaldi had left it. Very little
progress had been made during the intervening two centuries either
in organ music or in organ-building. Musical Italy was almost wholly
absorbed in vocal music and the opera. Church music had sunk to
lamentable depths of triviality and secularity. Independent organ music
received only the slightest attention and absolute stagnation reigned.
When Guilmant, in the eighties of the last century, opened the new
organ in the church of St. Louis des Français in Rome by giving daily
recitals for two weeks, he gave many of the well-known Bach and Handel
works their first performance in Italy! Even now there are very few
modern organs in Italy. The names of Italian organists, therefore, are
very few in number, even when the present generation is reached.

In the eighteenth century only one Italian organist stands out with any
prominence, Francesco Antonio Vallotti (1697-1780), chapel-master of
the Church of San Antonio in Padua. He was recognized as a great writer
of church-music and Tartini, his contemporary, spoke in warmest terms
of his playing. He was the teacher of the famous Abbé Vogler.

Marco Santucci (1762-1843), _maestro_ of the cathedral at Lucca, wrote
12 fugued sonatas for organ and Vincenzo Antonio Petrali (1832-1889)
had a great reputation as an improvisator and virtuoso.

Of the living Italian organists the most prominent and influential
are Capocci and Bossi, both of whom have striven valiantly to bring
Italian organ-art back to the place of eminence it occupied in the
early centuries. The elder of these musicians, Filippo Capocci (born
1840), has been the organist of St. John Lateran in Rome since 1875
and his organ is said to be the finest in Italy. He is not only a
fine performer, but also a gifted composer of serious aims. He has
written six sonatas and twelve volumes of original organ-pieces, mostly
attractive and valuable. The sonatas are his best works, in which he
follows classical lines.

Enrico Marco Bossi (born 1861) was organist of the Cathedral of Como
from 1881 to 1891, in 1896 he was appointed director of the _Liceo
Benedetto Marcello_ in Venice, in which institution he also taught
organ and advanced composition, and since 1902 he has been director of
the _Liceo Musicale_ in Bologna. He is Italy’s greatest organist to-day
and has also been a prolific writer in many fields--organ as well as
choral, orchestral and chamber music. His fine inventive genius, bold
harmonic feeling and originality of design, coupled with a certain
severity of style, are well illustrated in his best works--a concerto
for organ and orchestra, opus 100 (especially the first movement of
which is built up to a powerful climax), two sonatas (opus 60 and
opus 77), and a large number of compositions in smaller forms, such
as Marche Héroique, Étude Symphonique, Toccata, Romanza, Idylle, Hora
Mystica, Scherzo in G minor, etc. In 1893 with Tebaldini he published
‘A School of Modern Organ-Playing,’ which is a standard work.

Oreste Ravanello (born 1871), organist of St. Mark’s, Venice (1892),
and director of music of Antonius Basilica in Padua (1898), is to be
named among the best Italian writers of the present. His Fantasia in F
minor is an effective concert number.

Lorenzo Perosi (born 1872) was appointed by Pope Leo XIII musical
director of the Sistine Chapel in 1898 and has written trios and
preludes for the organ.

Ferruccio Benvenuto Busoni (born 1865 at Florence), the profound
Bach scholar, has made the most important contribution to modern
organ literature by an Italian--the _Fantasia contrapuntistica_ (on a
fragment by Sebastian Bach). Bach’s last unfinished work was intended
as a fugue with four themes, but only the first, second and part of
the third fugues were left. What the fourth theme was to be, remained
a mystery until the well-known theorist Bernhard Ziehn (1845-1912)
of Chicago solved it convincingly, thus showing the possibilities of
Bach’s fragment. With this suggestion Busoni has accomplished the
gigantic task with admirable result. The work really consists of seven
fugues, three of them being variations (a new idea in this form) of the
preceding fugues. It exists in three versions: for piano by Busoni;
for organ, transcribed by Wilhelm Middelschulte; and for orchestra
and organ, transcribed by Frederick Stock, conductor of the Chicago
Symphony Orchestra. As an organ piece it is the most difficult work in
the entire organ literature.


                                   V

About 1850 the widespread dissatisfaction of English organists
with the crude and incomplete instruments of the period began to
have an appreciable effect on English organ-builders. In the years
soon following the middle of the century notable improvements were
made--larger and more complete organs were built, pedals were more
common in church organs and complete pedal-boards were introduced, the
obsolete ‘unequal temperament’ system of tuning was generally discarded
and the ‘swell to tenor G’ half-keyboard was discontinued. When these
necessary improvements were made, English organ art advanced rapidly
and an array of eminent organists came into view whose united labors as
performers and composers brought the organ into its present position of
great influence in England and made possible the fine achievements of
the present generation of younger British organists and organ-composers.

Prominent in this group are the names of Sir Herbert Stanley Oakley
(1830-1903), professor of music at Edinburgh University from 1865
to 1891 and regarded as a player of exceptional ability and a good
composer; George Mursell Garrett (1834-1891), organist to Cambridge
University and the composer of much church and organ music; Edmund
Hart Turpin (born 1835), for many years regarded as one of England’s
greatest concert organists; Sir John Stainer (1840-1901), one of the
most prominent English musicians of his day, organist at St. Paul’s,
London (1872-1888), professor of music at Oxford University from 1889
and composer of many sacred cantatas and much church and organ music
of serious character; Sir Walter Parratt (born 1841), since 1883
professor of organ at the Royal College of Music and since 1893 master
of music to the royal household; Albert Lister Peace (born 1844), a
fine organ-virtuoso, the successor (1897) of W. T. Best as organist
of St. George’s Hall, Liverpool, which is regarded as one of the best
appointments in the United Kingdom; Sir John Frederick Bridge (born
1844), organist of Westminster Abbey from 1882, composer of much good
church music and the author of text-books on counterpoint and organ
accompaniment; and Sir George C. Martin (born 1844), organist of St.
Paul’s Cathedral, London, after 1888 and a distinguished writer of
dignified music for the church service.

The best known of the younger generation of English organists and
organ-composers in America is Edwin Henry Lemare (born 1865), who is
generally regarded as Best’s legitimate successor in the organ-concert
field. He first attracted large notice by his recitals while organist
of St. Margaret’s, London. His reputation in the United States
was greatly increased during his two years’ tenure of the post of
organist of Carnegie Institute, Pittsburg (1902-1904), and by several
extended concert tours before and after that appointment. In his organ
compositions, which are very numerous, he cultivates mostly a ‘light’
or ‘popular’ style, though his writing reveals a facile command of the
means of musical expression. His Symphony in D minor is his largest
work and it is a brilliant, strong composition.

William Wolstenholme (born 1865), though blind from birth, has attained
a high place for himself both as a performer (he made a short tour in
the United States in 1908) and as a composer of exquisite invention.
Over sixty of his compositions for organ are published, including two
sonatas. Alfred Hollins (born 1865) is also a blind organist, whose
compositions for the organ have the same qualities of lovely melody and
interesting harmony. He lives in Edinburgh, Scotland.

William Faulkes, organist of St. Margaret’s church, Anfield, Liverpool,
England, is a prolific writer of organ music of the ‘attractive’ type.

Sir Edward Elgar (born 1857) has written very little for the organ. His
Sonata in G, opus 28, is important, however. The ‘Pomp and Circumstance
March,’ so popular with organists, is an arrangement from a march for
military band written for the festivities of the Coronation of Edward
VII, played for the first time at the Promenade Concert, London, Oct.
22, 1901.

Basil Harwood (born 1859) is a composer of serious aims and ample
technical equipment. His organ works include a Sonata in C-sharp minor
and ‘Pæan.’ Other prominent English organ composers of the present
generation are Julius Harrison, now living in London, Hugh Blair and
Purcell J. Mansfield.


                                   VI

The history of organ music in the United States is difficult of
comparison with that of European countries, for its development
here has been so recent. Organ-building on a large scale did not
begin until about 1850 and organ-music of intrinsic value by native
composers did not appear until a couple of decades later. But since
then progress in every branch of organ art has been truly remarkable,
and this cumulative development has atoned in large measure for earlier
backwardness and slowness. In the quality of both organ-building and
organ-music produced in this country at the present time, American
achievement need not shun comparison with the best contemporary
European efforts.

The rapidly increasing popularity of the organ as a recital instrument
in America is traceable to several causes. At the foundation, of
course, is the widely diffused public appreciation of good music
of all kinds, fostered and stimulated by the annual flood of
concerts--orchestral, choral and chamber-music--and by the recitals
of individual artists in every field that are given even in cities of
comparatively small size. But two causes have contributed particularly
to the appreciation of organ music: (1) the rapid progress that has
been made in the last twenty-five years by American organ-builders in
all matters pertaining to mechanical appliances and tone-quality, with
the result that magnificent instruments are now to be found in almost
every city in the land, some of which are in public halls, municipally
owned and maintained for purposes of public culture; and (2) a notable
improvement in the standards of organ-playing and general musicianship
among organists themselves. A factor of large importance in this
movement has been the activity of the American Guild of Organists,
modelled after the Royal College of Organists in London and founded
in 1896 in New York City ‘to raise the standard of efficiency of
organists by examinations in organ playing, in the theory of music and
in general musical knowledge; and to grant certificates of Fellowship
and Associateship to members of the Guild who pass such examinations.’
(Excerpt from the Constitution of this Guild.) This Guild now (1915)
numbers among its members over 1600 prominent organists in the United
States and Canada. Part of its regular propaganda is the giving of
public services and organ recitals of high musical quality.

The first organ in America was the famous old Brattle organ, imported
and left by Thomas Brattle, treasurer of Harvard College, by his
will in 1713 to the Brattle Square Church, Boston. But since the
church voted that it was not proper ‘to use said organ in the public
worship of God,’ it was erected in King’s Chapel, Boston, in 1714,
where it remained until 1756. For eighty years after this date it was
in constant use in St. Paul’s Church, Newbury. It was then sold to
St. John’s Church, Portsmouth, New Hampshire. It was in existence in
1901, when it was displayed at an exhibition of musical instruments
in Horticultural Hall, Boston. This historically interesting old
instrument had only six stops.

John Clemm is said to have erected the first American built organ in
Trinity Church, New York, in 1737. This organ had three manuals and 26
stops and was followed eight years later by a two-manual organ built
by Edward Bromfield in Boston. Until the days of the Revolution it was
in the Old South Church, but was burned during the siege of Boston.
Many other small organs were built or imported for the larger churches,
but organ-building in America may properly be said to begin with the
erection in 1853 of the large four-manual organ with seventy stops and
3096 pipes, by Hook and Hastings in Tremont Temple, Boston. This was
an organ of concert proportions and others soon followed in the large
cities; chief among these early large organs were the one erected in
Boston Music Hall (completed in 1863) and the one in the Cincinnati
Music Hall in 1878.

American organists of the eighteenth and first half of the nineteenth
centuries have no particular interest for us, save as mere historical
reference. About the middle of the last century, however, coincident
with the widespread awakening of popular interest in musical matters,
there appeared a number of young organists, all of them with European
training (mostly at Leipzig), who were well-equipped to handle a large
organ and to play the organ music of the classical masters. Among these
pioneers appear prominently the names of James Cutler Dunn Parker (born
1828), Benjamin Johnson Lang (1837-1909), and Samuel Parkman Tuckerman
(1819-1890), among the group of Boston organists; George Washbourne
Morgan (1823-1892), an Englishman who came to New York in 1853 and
who was considered the first concert-organist in America; John Henry
Willcox (1827-1875), a native of Georgia, educated at Trinity College,
Hartford, Conn., and for the rest of his life an organist in Boston;
Eugene Whitney Thayer (1838-1889), for many years organist at Music
Hall, Boston; George William Warren (1828-1902), a self-taught musician
who was for thirty years organist of St. Thomas’s in New York; and John
Knowles Paine (1839-1906), from 1876 professor of music at Harvard
University, who was one of the first, if not the first, American
concert-organist who measured up to German standards of classical organ
playing.

American organ music, however, begins with Dudley Buck (1839-1909),
for he was not only a performer of finest attainments, but was the
first American composer to gain general recognition, and among his best
compositions are some large works for organ. For three years preceding
the great Chicago fire of Oct. 9, 1871, he was organist of St. James’s
Church in that city and for twenty-five years (1877-1902) he was
organist of Holy Trinity Church, Brooklyn. His organ compositions show
the influence of classical models, expressed in fluent, pleasing melody
and attractive harmony with an always clear sense of form. His best
organ-works include two sonatas (in E-flat, opus 22, and in G minor,
opus 77), Concert Variations on ‘The Star Spangled Banner,’ and many
smaller pieces, such as the familiar Idylle, ‘At Evening.’ In addition
he wrote a great deal of church music with organ accompaniment. From
the pedagogical side his work was equally valuable, including ‘18
Pedal-Phrasing Studies’ and ‘Illustrations in Choir-Accompaniment, with
Hints on Registration,’ the latter of which is still of great practical
value to organists.

The number of fine concert-organists increased so rapidly since those
named above that no attempt will be made here even to enumerate them.
The field of concert-organists cannot be passed over, however, without
mention of two of their number whose influence, especially in the
transitional years of the last two decades of the last century, was
enormous in creating an interest in, and love for, good organ music.
These organists are Frederick Archer (1838-1901) and Clarence Eddy
(born 1851), both organ-virtuosos of the first rank, whose numerous
and extended recital tours brought them into every part of the United
States. Archer, who gained his first laurels as organist at Alexandra
Palace, London, came to America in 1880 and became organist in Boston,
Brooklyn, Chicago, and finally (1896) in Pittsburg where he served as
city organist and musical director of Carnegie Music Hall. Clarence
Eddy’s playing has brought him an international fame; he now (1915)
resides in Chicago as concert-organist, teacher and writer.

Passing to the group of organ-composers, the endeavor will be made
to name some of those--and a few important ones will doubtless be
omitted where a choice must be made from a list that is increasing so
rapidly--who have made substantial contributions to organ literature
in the larger and more serious forms. This will of necessity leave
untouched a multitude of worthy organ pieces of lighter vein that have
already found much favor with organists.

In the front rank of American composers who have written worthily for
the organ Arthur Foote (born 1853) must be named. His compositions
in this field are not many, but they are important for their solid
musicianship, clear form and eloquent melodic and harmonic expression.
They include a much-played Suite in D and many short characteristic
pieces. Arthur Foote has always lived in Boston.

Horatio Parker (born 1863), who has made such large contributions
to choral and vocal fields, has written also for the organ, but
almost exclusively in larger forms: Concerto in E-flat for organ and
orchestra, Sonata in E-flat, and five sets of concert pieces.

Homer N. Bartlett (born 1845) is one of the most prolific of American
composers in many fields and among his most important compositions are
several organ works. His Suite in C, opus 205, is not only his most
important organ composition, but it may well be named among the best
American organ compositions. He has been for many years a prominent
organist of New York City.

Horace Wadhams Nicholl (born 1848), an Englishman who came to America
in the seventies, wrote 12 Symphonic Preludes and Fugues for organ,
also a symphonic poem called ‘Life’ in six movements, which display
scholarly attainments and command of intricate forms of writing.

James Hotchkiss Rogers (born 1857), who has lived in Cleveland since
1881, has written several notable things for his instrument, including
two sonatas, a concert overture, and many small pieces.

William H. Dayas (1864-1903), though born in New York, went abroad when
a young man and, after studying with Haupt in Berlin, succeeded Busoni
in Helsingfors and later moved to England where he died. He left two
brilliant organ sonatas--opus 5 in F major and opus 7 in C major.

Foremost among foreign-born organists and organ-composers who have
made America their home, must be named Wilhelm Middelschulte (born in
Westphalia, 1863), who has been the organist of the Chicago Symphony
Orchestra since 1894. His compositions are all in large contrapuntal
forms and display complete mastery of Bach’s intricate art. They
include a Passacaglia in D minor, a Concerto for organ and orchestra,
Canonic Fantasie and Fugue on four themes by J. S. Bach, and Canons and
Fugue on the chorale _Vater Unser im Himmelreich_.

Among the large works of the earlier American composers that still
survive are Eugene Thayer’s Sonata No. 5 in C minor, George E.
Whiting’s Sonata in A minor and Henry M. Dunham’s two sonatas in F
minor and G minor.

The number of organ works of really imposing proportions and
solid musical worth by American composers is quite significant of
the powerful undercurrents that are silently shaping the future of
American music. If one were to select the living composers who are
representative of the best present tendencies in organ composition
in large forms in America, the following names, in addition to those
mentioned above, would undoubtedly be among them: Mark Andrews,
New York; René Becker, St. Louis; Felix Borowski (born 1872, lives
in Chicago); Rossetter Cole (born 1866, lives in Chicago); Gaston
M. Dethier (born 1875 in Belgium, lives in New York); Gottfried H.
Federlein, New York; Ralph Kinder (born 1876, lives in Philadelphia);
Will C. Macfarlane (born 1870, city organist of Portland, Maine);
Russell King Miller, Philadelphia; and Harry Rowe Shelley (born 1858,
lives in New York).




                       LITERATURE FOR VOLUME VI

                             _In English_

     G. Ashdown Audsley: The Art of Organ Building (1905).

     Dr. Theodore Baker: A Biographical Dictionary of Musicians
     (New York, 1905).

     Dr. Charles Burney: History of Music, 4 vols. (London, 1789).

     Edward Dickinson: Music in the History of the Western Church
     (New York, 1913).

     Edward Dickinson: The Study of the History of Music (New
     York, 1911).

     C. A. Edwards: Organs and Organ Building (1881).

     Arthur Elson: Modern Composers of Europe (Boston, 1905).

     Famous Composers and Their Works, ed. by Paine, Thomas and
     Klauser (Boston, 1891).

     Grove’s Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 5 vols., revised
     (London, 1904-10).

     W. H. Hadow: Studies in Modern Music, 2 vols. (New York,
     1892-3).

     F. X. Haberl: Magister Choralis, transl. by Donnelly (New
     York, 1892).

     Sir John Hawkins: General History of Music (London, 1853).

     Arthur Hervey: French Music in the 19th Century (New York,
     1903).

     Edward Burlingame Hill: Vincent d’Indy: an Estimate (Musical
     Quarterly, April, 1915).

     E. J. Hopkins: The Organ: Its History and Construction (1877).

     Otto Jahn: The Life of Mozart, 3 vols., transl. by Pauline
     Townsend (London, 1882).

     H. C. Lahee: The Organ and Its Masters (Boston, 1903).

     Mrs. F. Liebach: Claude Achille Debussy (London, 1908).

     M. Montagu-Nathan: History of Russian Music (London, 1915).

     J. A. Fuller-Maitland: English Music in the 19th Century (New
     York, 1902).

     Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy: Letters from Italy and
     Switzerland, transl. by Lady Wallace (New York, 1868).

     Arthur Mees: Choirs and Choral Music (New York, 1911).

     Emil Naumann: History of Music, Vol. I, transl. by Praeger
     (London).

     Oxford History of Music, 5 vols. (Oxford, 1901-05).

     Sir C. H. H. Parry: The Evolution of the Art of Music (New
     York, 1896).

     Annie W. Patterson: The Story of the Oratorio (London, 1902).

     Waldo Selden Pratt: The History of Music (New York, 1907).

     Philipp Spitta: Life of Bach, 3 vols., transl. by Clara Bell
     and J. A. Fuller-Maitland (London, 1884-88).

     George P. Upton: Standard Concert Guide (Chicago, 1912).

     Dr. Karl Weinmann: History of Church Music (New York, 1910).

     C. F. A. Williams: The Story of Organ Music (London, 1905).


                              _In German_

     A. W. Ambros: Geschichte der Musik (Breslau, 1862-78).

     Dr. Rudolph Cahn-Speyer: Debussy; eine kritisch ästetische
     Studie von Giacomo Settaccioli, besprochen (Die Musik,
     August, 1912).

     Dr. Karl Grunsky: Musikgeschichte des 17. und 18.
     Jahrhunderts (1905).

     Hermann Kretzschmar: Führer durch den Konzertsaal; 2te
     Abteilung; Kirchliche Werke (Leipzig, 1905).

     Hermann Kretzschmar: Oratorien und weltliche Chorwerke
     (Leipzig, 1910).

     Monographien moderner Musiker, 3 vols. (Leipzig, 1906).

     Karl Proske: Musica Divina, Tome I (Ratisbon, 1853).

     Hugo Riemann: Handbuch der Musikgeschichte, Vol. II (Leipzig,
     1911).

     Hugo Riemann: Musiklexikon, 8th ed. (Leipzig, 1914).

     A. G. Ritter: Geschichte des Orgelspiels im 14-18.
     Jahrhundert (1884).

     Arnold Schering: Geschichte des Oratoriums (Leipzig, 1911).

     Max Steinitzer: Richard Strauss (Berlin and Leipzig, 1914).

     Zum 40. Tonkünstlerfest des Allgemeinen Deutschen
     Musikvereins in Frankfurt a. M. (Die Musik, Vol. 4, 2tes
     Maiheft).

     _Zeitschrift der Internationalen Musikaesellschaft_
     (Leipzig).


                              _In French_

     Gaston Carraud: La musique pure dans l’école française
     contemporaine (S. I. M., Aug.-Sept., 1910).

     D. Chennevrière: Claude Debussy et son Œuvre (Paris, Durand,
     1913).

     F. A. Gevaert: La mélopée antique dans le chant de l’église
     latine (1895).

     Jules Combarieu: Histoire de la musique, Vol. II (Paris,
     1913).

     M. P. Hamel: Manuel du facteur d’orgues (1849).

     A. Pougin: Essai historique sur la musique en Russie (Paris,
     1904).

     Romain Rolland: Musiciens d’aujourd’hui (Paris, 1908).

     Paul de Stoecklin: Max Reger (Le Courrier musicale, April,
     1906).

     Maurice Touchard: La musique espagnole contemporaine
     (Nouvelle Revue, March, 1914).

     Jean d’Udine: Rimsky-Korsakoff (Le Courrier musicale, July,
     1908).

     Egon Wellesz: Schoenberg et la jeune école Viennoise (S. I.
     M., March, 1912).


                             _In Spanish_

     Pedrell: Organografia musical antigua española (1901).




                          INDEX FOR VOLUME VI


                 A

_A cappella_ singing, xvii-f.

Abert (Bach transcription), 438.

Abington, Henry, 447.

Abrici, Vincenzo, 425.

Abt, Franz, 177.

Accompaniments, (Scarlatti), 108;
  (Carissimi), 108f.

Act of Supremacy, 89.

Acworth, H. A., 213.

Adam de la Hâle, 25f.

Adams, Thomas, 475.

_Adieu, mes amours_ (in French mass), 42.

Agnus Dei, 47f.

Agricola, Martin, 51.

Akimenko, 396.

Albert V, 56, 57.

[d’] Albert (Bach transcription), 440 (footnote).

Albert Hall, London (organ in), 411.

Albrechtsberger, Johann Georg, 458.

Aldrich, Richard (cited on Roman liturgy), 341.

Alexander Severus, 399.

Allegri, Gregorio, 66f.

Alphege, Bishop of Winchester, 401.

Amateur singers, xv.

Ambrogio, Alfredo, 393.

Ambros (cited on Palestrina), 68.

[St.] Ambrose, 8ff, 484.

Ambrosian hymns, 9.

America (choral music), 379ff;
  (organs), 408;
  (organ music), 495ff.

American Guild of Organists, 496.

Ammerbach, 428.

Andersen, Carl, 170.

André (organ builder), 405.

Andrews, Mark, 501.

[d’] Anglebert, Jean Henri, 442, 443.

Anglican Church (origin of), 89f.

Anglican Church music, 93ff;
  (second period), 133f;
  (third period), 134f;
  (introduction of hymn), 135f;
  (nineteenth century), 184f;
  (use of Magnificat), 321.

Animuccia, 224.

[d’] Annunzio, Gabriele, 387.

Antegnati, Constanzo, 423.

Anthem (English), 90, 133f, 134f.

Antiphonal singing, 8.

Antokolsky, 395.

Arensky, 395;
  Fountain of Bachtchissarai, 395.

Arne, Thomas (English organ composer), 472.

Arnold, [Sir] Edwin, 219f.

Arnold, Robert Franz, 353.

Arras (festival to Adam de la Hâle), 26.

Assyrians, 1.

Attaignant, Pierre, 441.

Attengnati family (organ builders), 405.

Aubade, 25 (footnote).

Austin, John T., 409.

Augsburg (as centre of organ music), 431.

Avery (organ builder), 406.


                 B

Bach, Johann Sebastian, 88, 91, 117, 119_ff_, 432, 434, 468;
  (attitude toward church music), 121;
  (arias), 122;
  (church cantata), 122f;
  (and the chorale), 123;
  (vocal polyphony), 124;
  (motets), 138;
  (oratorio), 239f;
  (mass), 319;
  (church music), 325f;
  (organ fingering), 423;
  (chorale preludes), 429;
  (organ music), 435ff, 456;
  (pupils), 457f.
  ‘_Ich hatte viel Bekümmerniss_,’ 125.
  ‘_Gottes Zeit ist die allerbeste Zeit_,’ 125f.
  ‘_Ein’ feste Burg_,’ 126f.
  Christmas Oratorio, 240.
  Passion According to St. Matthew, 241f.
  Mass in B minor, 325ff.
  Magnificat in D, 327.
  Organ Preludes and Fugues, 437.
  Fantasia in G minor, 438.
  Organ sonatas, 439.

Bach, Wilhelm Friedemann, 456, 457.

Back positive. See Rückpositiv.

Baini (cited on Palestrina), 64;
  (cit. on Frescobaldi), 424.

_Baisez-moi_ (in mass), 42.

Bantock, Granville, 371f.
  ‘The Fire Worshippers,’ 372f.
  ‘Omar Khayyam,’ 372f.
  Masses, 374.

Barker, C. S. (organ builder), 407.

Barnby, Joseph, 208.
  ‘Rebekah,’ 208.

Bartholomew, William, 179, 284.

Bartlett, Homer N., 499.

Basilica, Antonius, 491f.

Bassani, Giovanni Battista, 109, 425.

Basso ostinato. See Ground-bass.

Bates, Arlo, 222.

Batiste, Antoine Édouard, 467f.

Battishill, Jonathan, 472.

Bau, Édouard, 305.

Beach, Mrs. H. H. A., 222.

Becker, René, 501.

Beckwith, John Christmas (English organ composer), 472.

Beethoven, Ludwig van, 144f, 324, 458;
  (oratorio), 264;
  (mass), 319, 335f;
  ‘The Ruins of Athens,’ 144f.
  _Die Weihe des Hauses_, 145.
  ‘The Glorious Moment,’ 145f.
  ‘Christ on the Mount of Olives,’ 264f.
  Missa Solemnis, 335f.

Benedict, [Sir] Julius, 178f, 282.
  ‘The Legend of St. Cecilia,’ 179.
  ‘Benedictines of Solesme,’ 467.

Benedictus, Jacobus de, 320.

Bennett, Joseph, 207, 306, 308, 314.

Bennett, W. Sterndale, 183f.
  ‘The May Queen,’ 183f.
  The Woman of Samaria, 282f.

Benoist, François, 466f.

Benoît, Pierre Léopold, 301f, 392.
  _Lucifer_, 301f.

Berg, Alban, 353.

Berger, Wilhelm, 357.

Berlioz, Hector, 156ff, 170 (footnote).
  The Damnation of Faust, 157f.
  The Childhood of Christ, 286.
  Requiem, 337f.
  Te Deum, 339.

Bernard de Morlaix (12th cent. writer), 315.

Best, William Thomas, 477, 493.

Bird, Arthur, 460.

Blair, Hugh, 495.

Blasi, Luca, 405.

Blitheman (English organist), 448.

Blockx, Jan, 392.

Blow, John, 451, 475.

Blowers (organ), 403.

Boehm, 131.

Boëllmann, Leon, 486.

Boëly, Alexandre Pierre François, 466.

[St.] Bonaventura, 320.

Bonnal, Ermand, 486.

Bonnet, Joseph, 486.

Book of Common Prayer, 90.

‘Book of Orm,’ 369.

Borowski, Felix, 501.

Bossi, Enrico, 393; (organ music), 491.

Boston, U.S. (Handel and Haydn society), 219, 242, 314, 380;
  (early and famous organs), 496f.

Boulestin, Xaver M. (quoted on Holbrooke), 376.

Bourgault-Ducoudray, 392.

Bourgeois, 96.

Boyce, William (English organ composer), 472.

Brahms, Johannes, 193f, 334;
  (as organ composer), 463f.
  Song of Triumph, 194.
  Song of Destiny, 195f.
  ‘Rinaldo,’ 196.
  German Requiem, 292f.

Brattle, Thomas, 496.

Brattle organ (America), 496.

Breitkopf & Härtel, 65, 71 (footnote), 332.

Brewer, A. H., 379.

Bridge, Sir John Frederick, 493.

Bridges, Robert (poet), 210.

Brockes, B. H., 244.

Bromfield, Edward, 496.

Brosig, Moritz (church composer), 324.

Browning, Robert, 369, 458.

Bruch, Max, 197ff.
  ‘Frithjof,’ 197f.
  ‘Fair Ellen,’ 198f.
  ‘The Cross of Fire,’ 199f.
  ‘Lay of the Bell,’ 200.
  _Odysseus_, 200f.
  _Achilles_, 201.
  _Arminius_, 201.

Brucken-Fock, G. H. G. von, 358.

Bruckner, Anton, 488.

Bruneau, Alfred (quot. on Debussy), 387.

Buchanan, Robert, 369, 370.

Buck, Dudley, 218f, 498.
  ‘The Golden Legend,’ 219.
  ‘The Light of Asia,’ 219f.

Budapest Conservatory, 277.

Bull, John, 448, 449.

Bülow, Hans von (quoted on Verdi’s Mass), 344.

Bungert, August, 355f.

Burney (cited), 72, 102f.

Burns, 210.

Busch, Carl, 384.

Busoni, Ferruccio, 440, 492.

Buus, Jacques, 417.

Buxtehude, Dietrich, 433f, 436.

Byrd, William, 75, 98, 136, 449.


                 C

Cabezón, 445.

Caccini, 101.

Callaerts, Joseph, 470.

Calvin, 95, 96.

Campbell, 211.

Campion (English writer of odes), 141.

Candeille, 466.

Canon (earliest example), 32f.

Cantata, ix, 91, 99ff;
  (German Church), 91, 113ff;
  (first use of name), 101;
  (17th cent.), 103f;
  (early examples), 104;
  (Italian), 109f;
  (in France), 111;
  (in Germany), 111f;
  (texts), 117f;
  (in 19th cent.), 142ff;
  (chronological grouping), 189;
  (modern), 189ff;
  (English, late 19th cent.), 208;
  (in United States), 218.

Cantata da camera, 101.

Canterbury Cathedral (organ), 408.

Cantors, 87f.

Cantus firmus, 20.

Canzona Francese, 418.

Canzonet, 25 (footnote), 140.

Capel-Cure, [Rev.] E., 361.

Capocci, Filippo, 491.

Cardiff Festival, 369.

Carissimi, Giacomo, 101f, 108, 227f;
  (contemporaries), 230;
  (oratorios), 247.
  _Jephta_, 228f.

Carlyle (quot. on Séjan), 466.

Carrera, Rafael, 232.

Catoire, Georges, 396.

Cavaillé-Coll, Aristide, 407, 411.

Cavalieri, Emilio de, 100, 101 (footnote), 224f;
  (contemporaries), 227.

Cecilia Society of Frankfort, 270.

Cecilian Society, 323.

Celles, Dom Jean François Bedos de, 445.

Cesti, Marc’ Antonio, 105.

Chadwick, George Whitfield, 221, 381, 464.
  ‘Judith,’ 381f.
  ‘Noël,’ 382.

Chamber organ, 411f.

Chamberlyn (organ builder), 405.

Chambonnières, Jacques Champion de, 442.

Chanson, 25 (footnote), 29, 46ff.

Chant, 21;
  (oral transmission of), 5.
  See also Gregorian chant.

Chapman (English masque writer), 141.

Charlemagne, 17f, 400.

Charles II, King of England, 90.

Charles IX, King of France, 57.

Charpentier, 391.

Cherubini, Luigi, 324, 333f.
  Requiem Mass in C minor, 333.
  Requiem Mass in D minor, 333f.
  Eight Voice Credo, 334.
  Mass in D minor, 334.

Choirs (double, etc.), 69.

Choral folk-singing, xii-f.

Choral music (origin and development), ix-f;
  (divisions), xii-f;
  (conditions essential to efficient performance), xiv;
  (forms in use in United States), xiv-f;
  (influence of), xviii;
  (in Middle Ages), 1-98;
  (kinds used in mediæval era), 52 (footnote);
  (melody in treble), 83;
  (contemporary), 347-397.
  See also Cantata, Mass, Oratorio, Part-Song, etc.

Choral Societies, xv-f;
  (first German), 185f;
  (in France in 19th cent.), 187f.

Chorale, 79f, 83, 123.

Chorley, Henry F., 179, 183, 253.

Chromatic tones (first use), 22.

Church choirs, xv.

Church of England, 89.
  See Anglican church.

Church music (early Christian) 1ff;
  (influence of Hebrews), 3;
  (influence of Græco-Roman music), 3;
  (outside of Italy), 17;
  (introduction of organ in service), 399;
  See also Anglican church music; Lutheran church;
     Roman Catholic church, etc.

Church singers (importance in mediæval music), 22.

Civic choruses, xix.

Clarke-Whitfield, John, 473f.

Clement VII, Pope, 89.

Clemm, John, 496.

Clérambault, Louis Nicolas, 444.

Cole, Rossetter Gleason, 384f, 501.

Coleridge-Taylor, Samuel, 215f;
  (choral works), 370f.
  ‘Scenes from the Song of Hiawatha,’ 216f.

Collin, Paul (poet), 296.

Collins (writer of odes), 141.

Cologne (early organ), 401.

Colomb (librettist for Franck), 297.

Columbi, Vincenzo, 405.

Comic opera (earliest example), 26f.

Commer, Franz, 425 (footnote).

Compenius (organ builder), 405.

Composition pedals (organ), 407.

Concert organ, 411f.

Concerto (name applied to cantata), 122 (footnote).

Congregational singing, xiv, 96f.

Constantine. See Konstantine.

Contemporaneous choral music, 359ff.

Converse, Frederick Shepherd, 383f.
  ‘Job,’ 383.

Cooke, Benjamin (English organ composer), 472.

Cooley, Elsie Jones, 384.

Cornelius Severus, 399.

Costa, Michael, 179.
  ‘The Dream,’ 179f.
  ‘Eli,’ 283f.

Councils. See Trent, Council of.

Couperin, François, 436, 442, 443f.

Couwenbergh, H. V., 409.

Coward, Henry, 368.

Cowen, Frederic Hymen, 314, 369f.

Cranach, Lucas, 427.

Crequillon, 421.

Croce, Giovanni, 70.

Croft, William, 451.

Cromwell, 452.

Crotch, William, 474.

Crowest, F. J. (quot. on ‘Messiah’), 252.

Crüger, Johann, 86.

Cueppers, F., 201.

Currendi, 88f.


                 D

‘Damnation of Faust’ (Berlioz), 170 (footnote).

Damrémont, General, 337.

Damrosch, Leopold, 220.

Dance songs, xii.

David, Félicien, 175f.
  ‘The Desert,’ 176f.

Davies, Henry Walford, 377f.
  Everyman, 377f.
  The Temple, 377f.
  Hervé Riel, 378.

Day (choral collection), 91.

Dayas, William H., 500.

Debussy, Claude, 387f.
  _La Demoiselle élue_, 387.
  _Le martyre de Saint-Sébastien_, 387f.

Delaney (quot. on Mrs. Cibber), 251.

Delmotte, Heinrich (cited on Lassus), 58.

Dethier, Gaston, 501.

Dettingen Te Deum, 327f.

Devrient, Édouard, 242 (footnote).

Dialogue (name applied to cantata), 122 (footnote).

Diaphone (organ), 411.

Dickinson, Edward (quot.), 38, 63, 122;
  (cited on Bach’s cantatas), 122.

Diminution (organ playing), 422.

Diruta, Girolamo, 422f.

Discant, 2, 20.

Division (in organ mechanism), 404.

Doddridge, 135f.

Doles, Johann Friedrich, 457.

Draeseke, Felix, 355.

Dresden (Royal Library), 109;
  (Royal Chapel organ), 406.

Dryden, 110, 141, 210.

Dryvers, L., 409.

Dubois, Théodore, 206, 479, 485.
  ‘Paradise Lost,’ 305f.

Duddyngton (organ builder), 405.

Dufay (use of popular songs), 42
  (footnote), 47f.

Dukas, 392.

Duke of Weimar, 277.

Dunham, Henry M., 500.

[St.] Dunstan, 401.

Duplex stop control, 409.

Dupuis, Thomas Sanders, 472.

Durante, 137.

Dvořák, Antonin, 202f, 322.
  ‘The Spectre’s Bride,’ 202f.
  ‘St. Ludmila,’ 293.
  Requiem, 342.
  Stabat Mater, 342f.


                 E

Early Christian music. See Church music.

Eccard, Johann, 85f.

Echo (in the organ), 406.

Eddy, Clarence, 460.

Edward VI of England, 90, 449.

Edwards (English madrigalist), 75.

Egyptians, 1.

Eisenach, 77 (footnote).

Electricity (applied to organ action), 407, 408f.

Elgar, [Sir] Edward, 211ff, 355, 359f;
  (organ compositions), 494.
  ‘The Black Knight,’ 212.
  ‘The Banner of St. George,’ 212f.
  ‘Scenes from the Saga of King Olaf,’ 213.
  ‘Caractacus,’ 213f.
  ‘The Light of Life,’ 361f.
  ‘The Dream of Gerontius,’ 362f.
  ‘The Apostles,’ 364f.
  ‘The Kingdom,’ 366f.
  ‘The Music Makers,’ 367f.

Elizabeth, Queen of England, 90, 93, 448, 449.

Elwyn, Earl of, 401.

England (contemporary choral music), 359ff;
  (organs, 15th cent.), 404.

Englefried, George and Charles, 410.

Enoch, Frederick, 181.

Erbach, Christian, 431.

Esterhazy, Count, 335.

Ett, Kaspar, 323.

Eyken, Jan Albert van, 469.


                 F

Fährmann, Ernst Hans, 487.

Faisst, Immanuel Gottlob Friedrich, 463.

Families of tone (in organ), 410.

Fantasia, 419.

Farmer, Henry, 346.

Fasolo, Giovanni Battista, 425.

Faulkes, William, 494.

Federlin, Gottfried H., 501.

Ferdinand III, 431.

Festa, Constanzo, 72.

Festivals (in England), 178.

Fétis (cited on Scarlatti), 231 (footnote);
  (cited on Landino), 416;
  (cited on Merulo), 420;
  (cited on Gigault), 442;
  (cited on Rinck), 459.

Fischer, Michael Gotthard, 458, 459.

Fitzwilliam Virginal Book, 449.

Fletcher (as writer of masques), 141.

Folk-song, xi, xii, 23f, 34;
  (relation to art-music), 35f;
  (influence upon German ritual), 93f;
  (in Lutheran ritual), 113;
  (rel. to part-song), 140.

Fontane, Theodor, 380.

Foote, Arthur, 221, 449.

Förner, C. F., 405.

France (modern choral music), 386ff;
  (famous organs), 404;
  (supremacy in modern organ music), 479.

Francesco degli organi, 416.

Franck, César, 295f;
  (organ works), 470f.
  ‘Ruth and Boaz,’ 295.
  ‘The Beatitudes,’ 296f.
  ‘La Redemption,’ 296.
  ‘Rébecca,’ 296.
  ‘Psyché,’ 296.

Franco of Cologne, 18.

Franz, Robert, 177.

Frederick the Great, 245.

Frederick William of Prussia, 179.

Freiberg minster (organ), 406.

Frescobaldi, Girolamo, 424f, 436.

Fried, Oscar, 357.

Friedrich Augustus of Saxony, 148.

Froberger, Johann Jacob, 431, 442.

Frottola, 29f.

Fuchs, Albert, 355.

Fürst, 269.


                 G

Gabrieli, Andrea, 69, 421.

Gabrieli, Giovanni, 69, 234, 421.

Gade, Niels Wilhelm, 169ff.
  ‘The Crusaders,’ 170f.
  ‘The Erl-King’s Daughter,’ 171f.
  ‘Christmas Eve,’ 172f.
  ‘Comala,’ 173f.
  ‘Zion,’ 174f.
  ‘Spring’s Message,’ 175.

Gallo-Belgic School, 36f.

Garrett, George Mursell, 493.

Gauntlett, Henry John, 407.

Geibel, Emanuel, 198, 222.

George II, King of England, 250.

German church cantata, 114f.

Germany (church music), 111f;
  (modern choral music), 347ff;
  (famous organs), 404.

Giacomo, Lorenzo di, 405.

Gibbons, Orlando, 75, 98, _449f_, 475.

Gibbons, Cardinal (quot. on Catholic mass), 38f.

Gigout, Eugène, 485.

Glazounoff, 395.

Glee, 138f.

Glière, 396.

Glosada, 404.

Goethe, 168, 172, 196, 348;
  (quot. on Bach), 435.

Goetz, Hermann, 204.

Goss, [Sir] John, 475.

Gossec, 284.

Goudimel, 96.

Gounod, Charles, 205f;
  (passion music), 245;
  (oratorio), 286f;
  (masses), 341f.
  ‘The Redemption,’ 287f.
  _Mors et Vita_, 289f.

Graff, Wilhelm Paul (poet), 200.

Grainger, Percy, 377.

Grandval, C. de, 392.

Grapheus of Nuremberg (quot. on early masses), 37.

Graun, Karl Heinrich, 245f.
  ‘The Death of Jesus,’ 245f.
  Prague Te Deum, 328.

Greek Orthodox Church, x;
  (music of), 394.

Greeks, Ancient, 1.

Green, Samuel, 406.

Greene, Maurice, 451f.

Gregorian chant, 10, 36, 37, 285;
  (modern reform movement), 299.

Gregorian Antiphonary, 11ff.

Gregory the Great, Pope, 9f.

Gregory VII, 13.

Grieg, Edvard Hagerup, 205.

Grignón, 396.

Grillparzer (librettist to Schubert), 150.

Ground-bass (first recorded use), 33.

Grove’s Dictionary (cited), 33, 66 (footnote), 106.

Guami, Gioseffo, 422.

Guéranger, Prosper, 467.

Guido d’Arezzo, 18.

Guilmant, Félix Alexandre, 442 (footnote), 444, 468, 479, _480ff_, 490.
  Fugue in D, 482.
  Funeral March and Seraphic Song, 482.
  Lamentation, 482.

Gutenberg, 155.


                 H

Haberl, F. X. (cited on Palestrina), 64 (footnote), 425 (footnote).

Hadley, Henry K., 383.

Hadow, W. H. (quot. on Beethoven), 336f.

Hahn, Reynaldo, 355, 388.

Halberstadt (early organ at), 402.

Hale, Philip, 460.

Hamburg (as centre of organ art), 433.

Hamerling (German poet), 210.

Hamilton, Newburg, 256.

Hammerschmidt, Andreas, 114 (footnote).

Handel, George Frederick, 127f, 134, 322, 434;
  (passion music), 244;
  (oratorios), 246ff;
  (as organist), 452f;
  (organ works), 454f.
  ‘Acis and Galatea,’ 127f.
  ‘Alexander’s Feast,’ 129.
  ‘L’Allegro,’ 129f.
  ‘Messiah,’ 249ff.
  ‘Israel in Egypt,’ 252f.
  ‘Judas Maccabæus,’ 254f.
  ‘Samson,’ 256f.
  ‘Utrecht Te Deum,’ 327f.

Handel and Haydn Society of Boston, 219, 242, 314, 380.

Harmony, 2.

Harris, René, 406.

Harrison, Julius, 495.

Harwood, Basil, 494f.

Haskell, C. S., 408.

Haskell, W. E., 410.

Hassler, Hans Leo, 421.
  _Herzlich thut mich verlangen_, 430.

Hastings, 497.

Haupt, Karl August, 460.

Hauptmann, Maurice, 88.

Hausegger, Siegmund von, 357f.

Hawkins, [Sir] John (cit. on organ fantasias), 419;
  (quot. on Handel), 454.

Haydn, Joseph, 130f;
  (oratorio), 258ff.
  _Ariadne auf Naxos_, 130f.
  ‘The Seven Words of Jesus on the Cross,’ 130.
  ‘The Creation,’ 259ff.
  ‘The Seasons,’ 261f.
  Stabat Mater, 329.

Hebrews, 1.

Heliogabalus, 399.

Henrici, Friedrich, 244.

Henry VIII, King of England, 89, 449.

Henschel, Georg, 345.

Herbeck, 334.

Herder (poet), 192.

Hereford Festival, 322.

Hertz, Henrik, 182.

Hesse, Adolf Friedrich, 459f.

Heyse, Paul, 202.

Hiel, Emanuel (librettist to Benoît), 301.

Hildebrandt (organ builder), 405.

Hiller, Ferdinand, 168.
  ‘A Song of Victory,’ 168f.

Hobrecht, Jacob, 48.

Hofmann, Heinrich Karl Johann, 203f.

‘Melusina,’ 203f.

Hohenlohe, Archbishop, 280.

Holbrooke, Joseph, 374f.
  ‘Byron,’ 375.
  ‘The Bells,’ 375.
  Dramatic Choral Symphony, 375.
  ‘Queen Mab,’ 375f.
  ‘To Zanthe,’ 376.
  Apollo and the Seaman, 376.

Hölderlin, 195.

Hollins, Alfred, 494.

Holmès, Augusta, 391.

Holst, Gustave von, 376f.

[L’]Homme armé, 42 and footnote.

Hook and Hastings (organ builders), 497.

Hooker, Brian, 380.

Hope-Jones, Robert, 410f.

Hopkins, Edward John, 476.

Horn, C. F., 473.

Horn, Moritz, 166.

Horwitz, Karl, 353.

Huber, Hans, 358.

Huberti, G. L., 392.

Hucbald, 2, 18.

Humberston, F. W., 379.

Humfrey, Pelham, 133.

Hummel, 458.

Humperdinck, Engelbert, 357.

Huneker, James (quoted on Schönberg), 353.

Hungarian national march, 158.

‘Hunt’s-up’ (English song), 180 and footnote.

Hutchings, George S., 411.

Hydraulic organ, 398.

Hymnody (Luther’s influence on), 78ff.


                 I

[d’]Indy, Vincent, 386, 390f.

‘Song of the Bell,’ 391.

Innocent III, Pope, 320.

Instruments (in early Christian era), 7f.

Intervals, 1f;
  (in part writing), 21.

Ippolitoff-Ivanoff, 396.

Irving, Washington, 219.

Italian cantata, 101ff.

Italy (modern choral music), 392ff;
  (famous organs), 404.

Ivanovitch, Sergius, 396.


                 J

Jacobsen, Jens Peter, 353.

Jacobus de Benedictus, 320.

Jahn, Otto, 323.

Jalowetz, Heinrich, 353.

Jennens, Charles (librettist), 249.

Johann Georg, Elector of Saxony, 236.

Jonson, Ben, 141.

Jordans (organ builder), 406.

Josquin des Près, 48, 49ff.

Julian the Apostate, 400.

Julianus, Spanish bishop, 400.


                 K

Karg-Elert, Sigfrid, 489.

Karlsruhe Philharmonic Society, 195.

Kaun, Hugo, 358.

Kerl, Johann Kaspar, 431.

Keuchenthal (passion music), 236 (footnote).

Keyboard (organ), 402.

Kiesewetter, R. G. (quot. on Okeghem), 48.

Kind, Friedrich, 148.

Kinder, Ralph, 501.

Kindermann, Erasmus, 430.

Kingsley, Charles, 277, 379.

Kirbye (English madrigalist), 75.

Kirnberger, Johann Philipp, 457.

Kittel, Johann Christian, 458.

Klose, Friedrich, 488.

Koch, Friedrich, 357.

Köchel, 132 (footnote), 332.

Koninck, Lodemijk de (librettist), 299.

Konstantine, Kopronynus, 400.

Kotzebue, 141.

Kranz (organ builder), 405.

Krebs, Johann Ludwig, 458.

Kretzschmar, Hermann (quoted on Mozart), 329;
  (cited on Beethoven), 335.

Ktesibos, 398.

Kuhnau, Johann, 88, 425.


                 L

Lachner, Franz, 150.

Lady Nevill’s Virginal Book, 449.

Laloy, Pierre (quot. on Debussy), 388.

Lambillotte, Louis, 467.

‘Lament’ for Charlemagne, 24 (footnote).

Lampadius (quot. on ‘St. Paul’), 270.

Landino, Francesco, 415, 427.

Lang, Benjamin Johnson, 497.

Langdon, W. C., 381.

Lange, Samuel de, 358, 469.

Lasso, Orlando di. See Lassus.

Lassus, Orlandus, 49, 56ff;
  (secular compositions), 59f.
  ‘Penitential Psalms,’ 57f.
  _Gustate et Videte_, 58f.

Leading motives, 301.

Le Bègue, Nicolas Antoine, 442.

Leeds festival, 322, 368.

Le Fanu, J. S., 211.

Lefebure-Wély, Louis J. A., 467.

Legrenzi, Giovanni, 105f.

Lemare, Henry, 494.

Lemmens, Nicolas Jacques, 468f.

Leo, Leonardo, 137.

Leo XIII, Pope, 289, 345.

Lerch (of minnesingers), 28 (footnote).

Lesueur, François, 285f.
  Christmas Oratorio, 285f.

Liadoff, 395.

Lidley (librettist to Haydn), 259.

Lied (of minnesingers), 28 (footnote).

Lingg, H. (librettist), 197.

Liszt, Franz, 191f;
  (choral works), 277f;
  (Bach transcriptions), 438, 440 (footnote);
  (as organ composer), 462.
  ‘The Bells of Strassburg,’ 191f.
  ‘Prometheus,’ 192f.
  ‘The Legend of St. Elizabeth,’ 277f.
  _Christus_, 279f.
  _Missa Solemnis_, 340f.
  ‘Hungarian Coronation Mass,’ 341.

Liturgic chant, 4.

Liturgy (Roman Catholic), x, 3f, 5, 318.
  See also Mass.

Liverpool (organ at St. George’s Hall), 411.

Lobsinger (organ builder), 405.

Lohr, Harvey, 379.

London (Albert Hall organ), 411.

Longfellow, 191, 207, 212, 213, 216, 219, 221, 370, 380, 384.

Louis XII, King of France, 50.

Louis the Debonnaire, 400.

Lucinius, 427.

Luther, Martin, 53, 77ff, 89, 90, 236f, 484;
  (compositions), 79, 80 (footnote).

Lutheran service, 77f, 81, 115f;
  (Deutsche Messe), 82.

Luzzaschi, Luzzasco, 422.


                 M

Macfarlane, Will C., 501.

Macfarren, George Alexander, 180f, 282, 322.
  ‘May Day,’ 180.
  ‘The Lady of the Lake,’ 180f.

Mackenzie, Alexander Campbell, 210f, 368.
  ‘The Rose of Sharon,’ 306f.
  ‘Bethlehem,’ 308.

McLean, M., 379.

Macy, John, 384.

Madan’s Collection of Psalms and Hymn Tunes, 135.

Madrigal, xii, 30f, 70ff;
  (of Netherland period), 46ff;
  (in Germany), 72f;
  (in France), 73;
  (in England), 73f;
  (decline), 138.

Magnard, 392.

Magnificat, 321;
  (Dufay), 54f.

Mahler, Gustav, 357.

Maitland, J. H. Fuller (quoted on Brahms’ ‘German Requiem’), 293.

Male choruses, xvi.

Malling, Otto, 489f.

Malory (Morte d’Arthur), 368.

Mansfield, Purcell J., 495.

Manuals (organ), 405, 406.

Manuscripts (earliest known), 7.

Manzoni, Alessandro, 343.

Mapes, Walter, 60.

Maquaire, A., 486.

Marcellus II, Pope, 64.

Marchand, Louis, 444.

Marenzio, Luca, 72.

Martin, George C., 493.

Martini, Padre, 458.

Marx, A. B., 269.

Mary, Queen of England, 449.

Mary, Queen of Scots, 103.

Masque, 141.

Mass, xii, 38ff;
  (use of secular subjects), 41f;
  (origin of name), 42;
  (development during Netherland period), 46ff;
  (introduction of hymn), 85;
  (order of movements), 318f;
  (classification), 319ff;
  (19th-cent. reform), 323;
  (Mozart), 323, 329;
  (Bach), 324ff;
  (Haydn), 329;
  (Cherubini), 333f;
  (Beethoven), 335f;
  (Liszt), 340f;
  (Gounod), 341f;
  (modern), 345f.

Massenet, Jules, 206;
  (oratorio), 303f.
  _Ève_, 303f.
  _Marie Madeleine_, 304.

Mathieu, Émile, 392.

Mattheson, Johann, 118.

Mattheson (friend of Mendelssohn), 453.

Matthison, Arthur, 208.

Maximilian, Emperor of Austria, 427.

Measured music, 5.

Mees, Arthur (quot.), 62, 243.

Meistersinger, 27f.

Melody (placed in treble), 83.

Mendelssohn, Arnold, 357.

Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, Felix, 151ff;
  (part-song), 186;
  (oratorio), 268ff;
  (quot. on Bach), 437;
  (organ works), 461f.
  ‘The First Walpurgis Night,’ 152f.
  ‘As the Hart Pants,’ 153f.
  ‘Come, Let Us Sing,’ 154f.
  Gutenberg Festival Cantata, 155.
  _Lauda Sion_, 155.
  ‘Antigone,’ 155f.
  ‘Œdipus at Colonos,’ 156.
  ‘St. Paul,’ 269ff.
  ‘Elijah,’ 272ff.
  ‘Hymn of Praise,’ 276.

Merkel, Gustav Adolf, 463.

Merulo, Claudio, 420, 422.

Middelschulte, Wilhelm, 440 (footnote), 500.

Miller, Russell King, 501.

Milton, John (English masque writer), 141, 210, 256, 259.

Minnesingers, 26ff.

Miracle plays, 224.

Modal harmony, 56.

Monasteries (St. Gall), 8;
  (study of music), 18.

Monophonic music, 1.

Monteverdi, 101.

Moore, Thomas (author of ‘Lalla Rookh’), 163.

Morell, Rev. Thomas (librettist to Handel), 254.

Morgan, George W., 460, 497.

Motet (Netherland period), 46ff;
  (Josquin), 50;
  (early history), 52f;
  (subjects and early examples), 54f;
  (18th cent.), 136f;
  (19th cent.), 185.

Moussorgsky, Modeste, 395;
  Destruction of Sennacherib, 395.

Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus, 131f;
  (relation to Haydn), 258 and footnote;
  (mass), 323, 331f.
  ‘King Thamos,’ 131.
  Masonic Cantatas, 132.
  _Davidde Penitente_, 132.
  Requiem, 329ff.
  Coronation Mass, 332f.

Muffat, Georg, 432.

Multiple stop control, 409.

Mumford, Ethel Watts, 383.

Musæ Sioniæ (hymn collection), 86.

Music festivals (in England), 178.

Musica Transalpina (madrigal collection), 72, 73.

Musical Art Society of New York, xviii.


                 N

Napier, Hampdon (librettist to Weber), 148.

Napoleon I, 259, 339.

Nares, James (English organ composer), 472.

Nassare, Pablo, 445.

National Conservatory of Music, New York, 222.

National songs, xii.

Naumann, Emil (cit.), 24;
  (quot. on Ecce Ancilla), 47;
  (cited on Okeghem), 49;
  (cited on Luther’s hymns), 85.

Nekrassoff, 395.

Nero, 399.

Netherland schools, 46ff;
  (mass), 37f;
  (use of secular subjects), 43f;
  (texts), 44;
  (differentiation of schools), 47f;
  (organists), 417.

Neumes, 5f.

Newman, Cardinal (cited on dream of Gerontius), 362.

Newman, Ernest (quoted on Schönberg), 354.

Nicetas, Bishop of Remesiana, 322.

Nicholl, Horace Wadhams, 500.

Nigond, Gabriel, 389.

Ninfale, 415.

Nisard, Theódore, 467.

Noordt, Anthony van, 466.

Normand. See Nisard.

Nottebohm (cited on Schubert), 150.

Novello, Vincent, 332, 475.

Nowowiejski, Felix, 396.

Nuremberg (first chorale collection published at), 83 (footnote);
  (as home of organ music), 430.


                 O

Oakley, Sir Hubert Stanley, 493.

Obrecht. See Hobrecht.

Ode, 141;
  (revival of), 209.

Okeghem, Johannes, 48f.

Opera, xii;
  (first), 99.

Oratorio (first), 99;
  (origin and early examples), 223f;
  (Cavalieri’s stage directions), 225f;
  (17th-cent. Italian), 233ff;
  (German passion-music), 234ff;
  (Handel), 246ff;
  (Haydn), 258ff;
  (Beethoven), 264f;
  (Spohr), 266f;
  (Mendelssohn), 268ff;
  (Liszt), 277ff;
  (English composers), 281f;
  (in modern France), 284f;
  (modern), 292ff;
  (modern English), 306f;
  (American), 314f.

Oratorio Society of New York, xv-f.

Orchestra (employment of, in ritual music), 134.

Organ, 83;
  (history and development), 397ff;
  (10th-11th cent.), 400ff;
  (portative), 402, 415;
  (15th-17th cent.), 404f;
  (18th-19th cent.), 406;
  (modern development), 407ff;
  (modern concert organ), 411f;
  (early use in church service), 418;
  (first in America), 496.

Organ blowers, 403.

Organ-building (10th-11th cent.), 400f;
  (12th-14th cent.), 401ff;
  (15th-16th cent.), 403ff;
  (17th-19th cent.), 405ff;
  (modern), 407ff.

Organ keyboard, 402.
  See also Pneumatic action; Electricity.

‘Organ Magnificats,’ 321.

Organ music (early masters), 415ff;
  (early forms), 418f;
  (Saxon or Thuringian school), 434ff;
  (Bach), 435ff;
  (early French), 441ff;
  (Spain and Portugal), 445;
  (early English), 446ff;
  (Handel), 452;
  (after Bach and Handel), 456ff;
  (19th-cent. German), 459ff;
  (19th-cent. French), 466ff;
  (19th-cent. English), 472ff;
  (arrangements), 473;
  (modern French), 479ff;
  (modern German), 487f;
  (modern Italian), 490f;
  (in United States), 495ff;
  (American composers), 499f.

Organ pedals, 403.

Organ playing (methods), iii, 422f, 459, 460.

Organists (in Germany), 426ff;
  (in France), 441;
  (in Spain and Portugal), 445f;
  (Belgium), 469f;
  (English), 472;
  (younger French school), 486;
  (younger English school), 493;
  (American), 497ff.

Organum, 2, 19f.

Organum pulsare, 402.

Ornamentation (organ music), 423.

O’Shaughnessy, Arthur, 367.

Osiander, Lucas (published first chorale book), 83 (footnote).

Ottoboni, Cardinal, 453.

Ouseley, [Sir] Frederick Arthur Gore, 476f.


                 P

Pachelbel, Johann, 429, 430f, 436.

Paine, John K., 314f, 460, 497.
  ‘St. Peter,’ 314f.

Paix, Jacob, 428.

Palestrina, x, 17, 49, 60ff, 91, 422;
  (contemporaries), 67f;
  (motets), 136, 138.
  _Missa Papæ Marcelli_, 63f.

Palestrina style, 61f, 322.

Pareja, Ramis de, 445.

Parker, Horatio William, 221f, 464, 499.
  _Hora Novissima_, 315f.
  ‘The Legend of St. Christopher,’ 316f.
  ‘Morven and the Grail,’ 380f.

Parker, James Cutler Dunn, 497.

Parratt, [Sir] Walter, 493.

Parry, [Sir] C. Hubert H., 20 (footnote), 209f, 322;
  (quot. on Rossi), 104f;
  (quot. on 17th-cent. cantatas), 108.
  ‘Judith,’ 308f.
  ‘Job,’ 309.
  ‘King Saul,’ 309f.
  ‘The Vision of Life,’ 369f.
  ‘The Pied Piper of Hamelin,’ 369.

Partida (organ mechanism), 404.

Part-singing, 19f.

Part-song (origin), 140;
  (German, 19th cent.), 186f;
  (English, 19th cent.), 187;
  (French, 19th cent.), 188.

Pasquini, Bernardo, 425f.

Passion-music (origin and development), 234f;
  (Schütz), 236f;
  (Bach), 239ff;
  (Graun), 245f.

Pastourelle, 25 (footnote).

Paul IV, Pope, 66.

Paumann, Conrad, 427.

Peace, Albert Lister, 493.

Pedals (organ), 403, 405.

Pedrell, Felipe, 396.

‘Penitential Psalms’ (Lassus), 57f.

People’s Choral Union (New York), xv.

People’s Singing Classes (New York), xv.

Pepin, 400.

Pergolesi, Giov. Battista, 137, 327.
  Stabat Mater, 327.

Peri, 100, 101, 405.

Periods of musical progress, 142f.

Perosi, Don Lorenzo, 392f, 492.

Perrot (organ builder), 405.

Péschard (organ builder), 407.

Petrali, Vincenzo Antonio, 491.

Petrarch, 71 (footnote).

Petronius, 399.

Philip of Vitry, 53.

Philip II, King of Spain, 404.

Picander. See Henrici.

Pierluigi, Giovanni. See Palestrina.

Pierné, Gabriel, 355, 386, 388f.
  _Les enfants de Bethlehem_, 388.
  ‘The Children’s Crusade,’ 389.
  _Saint-François d’Assisi_, 389f.

Pius X, Pope, 6.

Piutti, Carl, 487.

Plainsong. See Gregorian chant; Gregorian antiphonary.

Platen, August von, 172.

Platz, Wilhelm, 355.

Pneumatic action (in organ), 398, 400, 407.

Pneumatic lever (organ), 407.

Pneumatic organ, 400.

Poe, Edgar Allan, 376, 396.

Pohl, Richard, 166.

Poland (contemporaneous choral music), 396.

Polyphonic period, 36ff.

Pope, 210.

Portative organ, 399, 403, 405, 416.

Positive organ, 399.

Possessoris, 398.

Poushkin, 395.

Prætorius, Jacob, 432 (footnote).

Prætorius, Michael, 86, 402, 421.

Prague Te Deum, 328f.

Pratt, Waldo S. (quot. on Palestrina), 62.

Prelude, 429.

Professional choruses, xvii.

Prölz, Adolphus, 155.

Proske, Karl, 323, 467;
  (quot. on Lassus), 56f.

Protestant church music, 76ff;
  (substitution of vernacular for Latin), 78;
  (in England), 89f.

Protestant composers (early), 86f, 94.

Protestant hymnody, 78.

Protestant service (Reformed church), 95f.
  See Lutheran service.

Psalmists, 95.

Psalmody, 95;
  (18th cent.), 135.

Public school choruses, xvi.

Purcell, Henry, 133, 322;
  (as organ composer), 452.

Puritanism, 96.


                 Q

Quantz, Johann Joachim, 474f;
  (quoted), 456.

Quef, Charles, 486.


                 R

Rachmaninoff, 395.

Raison, André, 442.

Rameau, Jean Philippe, 444f.

Ramler (librettist), 245.

Ramsay (early organ at convent of), 401.

Randebrock (organ builder), 409.

Ravanello, Oreste, 491f.

Ravel, Maurice, 392.

Recitative, 230f.

Redford, Thomas, 448.

Refrains, xii.

Regal, 405.

Reger, Max (choral works), 352f, 429, 440 (footnote);
  (organ works), 488f.

Reidel, Carl, 238.

Reimann, Heinrich (quot. on Mozart), 323.

Reinken, Johann Adam, 432 (footnote).

Representative style, 100.

Requiem mass, 320.

Responsorial singing, 8.

Resultant tone (organ), 459.

Revolution of 1830, 337.

Reubke, Julius, 463.

Rheinberger, Joseph, 201f, 324;
  (masses), 345;
  (organ works), 464ff.
  _Christophorus_, 201f.

Ribera (painter of ‘Magdalen’), 231.

Ricercare, 418.

Richter, E. F., 88.

Rimsky-Korsakoff, 395.

Rinck, J. C. H., 458, 459.

Ritter August Gottfried, 425 (footnote), 460;
  (cit. on Crequillon), 421;
  (quot. on Guami), 422;
  (cit. on Hassler), 430;
  (quot. on Muffat), 432.

Ritual (Pagan, Hebrew), 3;
  (uniformity in, of mediæval European composers), 76;
  (music in Anglican church), 90f.
  See also Roman Catholic church; Litany; Lutheran service.

Rochlitz, Friedrich (librettist of ‘The Praise of Music’), 146.

Rockstro (quoted), 23;
  (cited on first use of ‘madrigal’), 73 (footnote).

Rococo organ embellishments, 406.

Rogers, James Hotchkiss, 500.

‘Roland’s Song,’ 24 (footnote).

Rolland, Romain (quot. on Strauss), 348;
  (quot. on modern choral school), 386;
  (quoted on oratorio), 393.

Romberg, Andreas, 146f.
  ‘The Lay of the Bell,’ 146f.

Roman Catholic church, x, 8, 38ff;
  (introduction of antiphonal psalmody), 9;
  (influence of Protestant hymn), 84;
  (movement for restoration), 323f.
  See also Gregorian chant; Mass, etc.

Romans, 1.

Roosevelt, Hilborne L., 408, 411.

Rootham, Bradley, 379.

Roquette, Otto (librettist), 278.

Rossetti, Christina, 180, 387.

Rossi, Luigi, 104f.
  _Gelosia_, 104f.

Rossini, Gioacchino, 339f.
  Stabat Mater, 339f.

Round, 32.

Roundelay, 25 (footnote).

Rousseau, Samuel Alexandre, 485f.

Rückert, Friedrich, 167, 349, 350.

Rückpositiv, 404.

Rudolph, Emperor of Austria, 430.

Russia (contemporary choral music), 394f.

Rust, Wilhelm, 88.


                 S

Sachs, Hans, 27.

Sacred Harmonic Society, London, 252f.

St. Ambrose (hymns of), 8ff, 484.

St. Filippo Nero, 224.

St. George’s Hall, Liverpool (organ in), 411.

St. Mark’s, Venice, 417, 419f.

Saint-Saëns, Charles Camille (oratorio), 302f;
  (as organ composer), 480.
  _Noël_, 302.
  ‘The Deluge,’ 302f.

Salamon, 259.

Salomé, Théodore César, 485.

Salto cattivo (organ playing), 423.

Salzburg, Archbishop of, 332f.

Santa Maria, Thomas de, 445.

Santucci, Marco, 490f.

Scandellus, 237.

Scandinavia (contemporary choral music), 394.

Scarlatti, Alessandro, 106ff, 137, 230f.
  Cantatas, 106f.
  _Il trionfo della grazia_, 231.
  _Sedecia, rè di Gerusalemme_, 231f.

Scarlatti, Domenico, 109, 453.

Scheidemann, Heinrich, 432 (footnote).

Scheidt, Samuel, 432 (footnote).

Schein, 88.

Schering (quot. on Everyman), 378.

Schikaneder, 131.

Schildt, Melchior, 432 (footnote).

Schiller, 146, 200, 204, 349, 395.

Schlick, Arnold, 427.

Schmid (organ builder), 405.

Schmid, Bernard, 428.

Schmidt (German organist), 450.

Schmitt, Aloys, 333.

Schmitt, Florent, 386, 390.

Schneider, Johann Gottlob, 458, 459, 469.

Schnitzker (organ builder), 405.

Scholæ cantorum, 6, 10.

Schönberg, Arnold, 353f.
  _Gurrelieder_, 354.

Schubert, Franz, 149f; (part-song), 186;
  (masses), 334.
  _Miriams Siegesgesang_, 150.

Schumann, Georg, 351f;
  (as organ composer), 462.
  ‘Ruth,’ 351.

Schumann, Robert, 161ff;
  (part-song), 162f, 186, 204, 346;
  (quoted on Bach), 435.
  ‘Paradise and the Peri,’ 162f.
  ‘The Pilgrimage of the Rose,’ 166.
  ‘The Minstrel’s Curse,’ 166f.
  ‘Advent Hymn,’ 167.
  ‘New Year’s Hymn,’ 167f.
  ‘Mignon’s Requiem,’ 168.

Schütz, Heinrich, 236f, 421.
  ‘Seven Words of Jesus,’ 237f.
  ‘Resurrection,’ 237.
  ‘Passions,’, 238.

Schwob, Marcel, 389.

Scott, [Sir] Walter, 180, 199, 380.

Scriabine, 376.

Secular music, 23ff;
  (earliest known examples), 25;
  (first use of polyphony), 29.
  See also Cantata; Chanson; Folk-song; Madrigal; Part-song.

Seifert, Paul, 432 (footnote).

Séjan, Nicolas, 466.

Sequences, 14ff.

Serenade, 25 (footnote).

Servante, 25 (footnote).

Seyfried, 458.

Sguarcialupo, Antonio, 416.

Sheffield Festival, 368.

Shelley, Harry Rowe, 209, 501.

Shirley, James, 210.

Shubring (friend of Mendelssohn), 269.

Silas, Eduard, 346.

Silbermann family (organ builders), 406.

Singing schools, 6f, 10, 13.

Sistine Chapel, 11.

Skinner, Ernest M., 411.

Smart, [Sir] George, 265.

Smart, Henry, 181f;
  (as organ composer), 475f.
  ‘The Bride of Dunkerron,’ 181f.
  ‘King René’s Daughter,’ 182f.

Smith, David Stanley, 385.

Smith, Father, 406, 450.

Solmisation, 18.

Sophocles, 155, 156.

Spain (famous organs), 404.

Spark, William, 476.

Speth, Johann, 431.

Spitta, Philipp (quot. on church music), 118;
  (on J. S. Bach), 120;
  (quot. on Bach), 437.

Spohr, Ludwig, 150f, 266f.
  ‘The Last Judgment,’ 266f.
  ‘Calvary,’ 267f.

Spruch (of minnesingers), 28 (footnote).

Stabat Mater, 320f.

Staff (origin of), 18.

Staff notation (first use), 5.

Stage directions for oratorio, 225f.

Stainer, Sir John, 493;
  (cited), 31.

Stanford, Charles Villiers, 211, 346.
  ‘The Three Holy Children,’ 310.
  ‘Eden,’ 310f.

Stile rappresentativo, 100.

Stradella, Alessandro, 232f.
  _S. Giovanni Battista_, 233.

Strauss, Richard, 348f;
  (short choral works), 349;
  (religious music), 350.
  _Wanderers Sturmlied_, 348.
  _Taillefer_, 349.
  _Der Abend_, 349.

Stravinsky, 396.

Sullivan, [Sir] Arthur Seymour, 206f, 322.
  ‘The Golden Legend,’ 206f.
  ‘The Prodigal Son,’ 311f.
  ‘The Light of the World,’ 312f.

‘Sumer is icumen in,’ 32f.

Süssmayer, 330.

Sweelinck, J. P., 427, 429, 446.

Swell chambers (organ), 409f.

Swell (organ), 406.

Swieten, Baron von, 259.

Sydney, N. S. W. (organ), 411.

Sylvester, Pope, 6.

Syrinx, 397.


                 T

Tablatura nova, 429.

Tablature (organ), 422, 423.

Tallis, Thomas, 136, 448f.

Taneieff, Alexander, 396.

Tartini, 490.

Tasso (‘Jerusalem Delivered’), 170.

Taubmann, Otto, 350f.
  _Deutsche Messe_, 350.
  _Sängerweihe_, 350.

Taussig (Bach transcription), 440.

Te Deum Laudamus, 322.

Tebaldini, Giovanni, 393, 491.

Tegner, Bishop (librettist), 197.

Tempo (method of determining), 474f.

Tennyson, 211.

Tenzone, 25 (footnote).

Thayer, Eugene W., 460, 497, 500.

Theatre organs, 413.

Thiele, Johann Friedrich Ludwig, 462.

Thirty Years’ War (effect of, on chorale), 83.

Thomas Aquinas (author of Lauda Sion), 155.

Thomas (organ builder), 406.

Thomas, Theodore, 288, 292.

Thomasschule, 88.

Thomson (author of ‘Seasons’), 261.

Thuille, Ludwig, 357.

Tinel, Edgar, 299f, 392, 470.
  _Franciscus_, 299f.

Titelouze, Jean, 441f.

Toccata, 418.

Tombelle, Ferdinand de la, 486.

Tone grouping (in organ), 410.

Trampeli (organ builders), 405.

Trench (librettist of ‘Apollo and the Seaman’), 376.

Trent, Council of, 58, 64, 119.

Tropes, 16.

Troubadours, 24f;
  (historical significance), 28.

Trouvères, 25;
  (historical significance), 28.

Truette, E. E., 460.

Tubular pneumatic action (in organ), 407.

Tuckerman, Samuel Parkman, 497.

Tuning, 405.

Turpin, Edmund Hart, 493.

Tye, Christopher, 98, _448_, 475.


                 U

Uhland, 166, 212, 349.

Unequal temperament, 405.

Unit stop control, 409.

Universal air chest, 409.

Utrecht Te Deum, 327f, 453.


                 V

Valbecke, Ludwig van, 403.

Vallotti, Francesco Antonio, 490.

Vavrineoz, Mauritius, 396.

Venetian school, 68f;
  (madrigalists), 71f.

Verdi, Giuseppe, 343f.
  Manzoni Requiem, 343f.

Vetruvius, 398 (footnote).

Villanella, 140 (footnote).

Vilotti, 458.

Virginal Book of Queen Elizabeth, 449.

Vitry, Philippe de, 53.

Vittoria (compared with Palestrina), 68.

Vogler, [Abbé] Georg Joseph, 458f, 490.

Vrchlicky, Jaroslav, 293.


                 W

Wackernagel, Philip (cited on German hymns), 78 (footnote).

Wagner, Richard, 189f.
  ‘The Love-Feast of the Apostles,’ 190f.

Walker, Ernest (quoted on the ‘Messiah’), 249f.

Walsegg, Franz von, Count of Ruppach, 330.

Walther, Johann, 85, 484.

War songs, xii.

Warren, George William, 497.

Wasielewski (cit. on G. Gabrieli), 421, 422.

Water organ, 398, 399.

Water pressure (in organ), 398.

Waterloo, 148.

Watson: ‘Italian Madrigals Englished,’ 72 (footnote).

Watts, 135f.

Webbe, Samuel, 139f.

Weber, Carl Maria von, 147, 186, 459;
  (masses), 337.
  ‘Jubilee Cantata,’ 147f.
  ‘_Kampf und Sieg_,’ 148f.

Weber, Constance, 132.

Webern, Anton von, 353.

Weelkes (English madrigalist), 75.

Weinmann, Karl (cited on mediæval music), 20;
  (quot. on Netherlanders), 43;
  (cited on Beethoven), 324.

Weissenbach, Aloys, 145.

Wellesz, Egon, 353.

Wendt, Amadeus, 148.

Wensley, Shapcott (librettist), 212.

Wesley, Charles (Christmas hymn of), 155 (footnote).

Wesley, Charles (organist), 472.

Wesley, Samuel, 473.

Wesley, Samuel Sebastian, 475.

White (organ builder), 405.

Whiteley, John W., 410.

Whiting, Arthur, 222.

Whiting, George Elbridge, 221, 500.

Whittier, 368.

Widor, Charles Marie, 468, 479, 482, 483f.

Wilbye (English madrigalist), 75.

Wilcox, John H., 497.

Willaert, Adrian, 69, 417, 420.

Willcox, John Henry, 497.

William, Duke of Bavaria, 56.

William of Malmesbury, 401.

William IV, King of Prussia, 155.

Williams, C. F. Abdy, 432 (footnote).

Williams, C. Lee, 379.

Williams, Ralph Vaughan, 377.

Willis, H. W. (organ builder), 407, 408, 411.

Winchester (famous early organs at), 401.

Wind-chest, organ, 405;
  (separate), 407;
  (electro-pneumatic), 408f.

Wind-gauge (organ), 405.

Wind-power, regulation of (in organ), 405.

Wind pressure (in organ), 398.

Winterfeld (cited on Passion music), 236 (footnote).

Witt, Franz (quoted on masses), 323.

Wohlbrück (librettist), 148f.
  _La vita nuova_, 394.

Wolf-Ferrari, Ermanno, 393f.

Wolfrum, Philip, 355.

Wolle, J. Frederick, 327.

[St.] Wolstan, 401.

Wolstenholme, William, 494.

Woltz, Johann, 428.

Women’s choruses, xvi.

Wood, Anthony (quot. on Tye), 448.

Wood, Henry, 379.

Worms, Diet of, 89.

Wotton, William, 405.

Woyrsch, Felix, 356f.
  ‘The Dance of Death,’ 356f.


                 Z

Ziehn, Bernard, 492.

Zipoli, Domenico, 426.

Zucchetti, 419.

Zwingli, 90.




*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76594 ***