Chapter V: The Cantata in the Nineteenth Century (1)

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.

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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_.

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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.

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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.