The most gifted of the French composers of light opera at the end of the eighteenth century, and in the part of the nineteenth, was Francois Adrien Boieldieu (1775-1834). This talented musician was born at Rouen, where his father was secretary to the archbishop. The boy was educated in the ecclesiastical schools, having begun as a choir boy in the cathedral. His first little work for the stage was performed at Rouen when he was about seventeen, "La Fille Coupable," with such success that the author was encouraged to go and seek his fortune in Paris. Here for a long time he met with little encouragement, and was obliged to make a living at first as a piano tuner; later he was fortunate enough to have certain romances of his sung by popular singers, and thus his name became somewhat known. For these songs he received the munificent compensation of two dollars and a half each. Presently he secured a libretto, "La Dot de Suzette," which was composed and performed at the Opera Comique, with so much encouragement, that he soon after produced his one-act opera, "La Famille Suisse." His popularity was not fully established, however, until "Zoraime et Zulnare" in 1798. This work possesses a vein of tenderness, a refined orchestration, and singularly clear and pleasing forms. In 1800 his world-wide favorite, "Le Caliph de Bagdad," was produced, and its taking overture was played from one end of Europe to the other, upon all possible instruments and combinations of them. His other two successful operas were "Jean de Paris" (1812), and "La Dame Blanche" (1825). Both these made as much reputation outside of France as in it, and are still produced in Germany. In 1803 Boieldieu received an appointment in St. Petersburg and lived there six years, but he returned to Paris later, and in 1817 became Mehul's successor as teacher of composition at the Conservatory.

Of the French stage during this epoch it is to be observed that nothing of a large and serious character was produced upon it, except the operas of Gluck, which of course were not indigenous to France. What progress was made by the composers before mentioned, and others of less importance, consisted in acquiring fluency, ease and effective construction. The ground had been prepared from which the century following would reap a harvest.

III.

In Italy during the eighteenth century, opera continued to be cultivated by a succession of gifted and prolific composers. At the beginning of the century, the great Alexander Scarlatti was at the height of his career, as also were Lotti and the younger masters mentioned in the former chapter. All these composers followed in the style established by Scarlatti and Porpora. The most talented of the Italians of this period was Giovanni Batista Pergolesi (1710-1737). This gifted genius was born at Jesin, in the Roman states, but when a mere child, was admitted to the conservatory "Of the Poor in Jesus Christ" at Naples, where his education was completed. He commenced as a violin player, and attracted attention while a mere child by his original passages, chromatics, new harmonies and modulations. A report of his performances of this kind being made to his teacher Matteis, he desired to hear them for himself, which he did with much surprise, and asked the boy whether he could write them down. The next day the youngster presented himself with a sonata for the violin, as a specimen of his power; this led to his receiving regular instruction in counterpoint. The first composition of his was a sacred drama called "La Conversione di St. Guglielmo," written while he was still a student. It was performed with comic intermezzi (sic!) in the summer of 1731, at the cloister of St. Agnello. The dramatic element in this work is very pronounced, and the violin is treated with considerable feeling. His first opera, "La Salustia," was produced in 1731. It is notable for improvement in the orchestration. In the winter of this same year he wrote his comic intermezzo, "La Serva Padrona," a sprightly operetta, which had a moderate success at the time, but afterward for nearly a hundred years was played in all parts of Europe. He wrote several other operas, which had but moderate success, although many of them were performed with considerable applause after his death. By general consent the most beautiful work of Pergolesi was his "Stabat Mater," which was written to order for a religious confraternity, for use on Good Friday, in place of a "Stabat" by Scarlatti, the price paid being ten ducats—about nine dollars. It is for two voices, a soprano and contralto, and is excellently written. No sooner was he dead than his music immediately became the object of admiration, his operas and lighter pieces being played in all parts of Italy. He died at the age of twenty-six, being the youngest master who has ever left a permanent impression in musical history.

One of the most prolific composers of this period was Nicolo Jomelli (1714-1774). Jomelli represents the Neapolitan school, having been educated first at the conservatory of San Onofrio, and later at that of "La Pieta de' Turchini." His earlier inclination was church music, and in order to perfect himself in it he went to Rome. This was in 1740, and two of his operas were there produced. He afterward visited Vienna, where he produced several operas, and in 1749 he was appointed assistant musical director at St. Peter's in Rome, a position which he held for five years, after which he went to Stuttgart, as musical director. While in Germany he had a very great reputation as an opera composer. In 1770 Mozart wrote from Naples, "The opera here is by Jomelli; it is beautiful, but the style is too elevated as well as too antique for the theater." His later life was spent in Naples. Besides many operas he wrote a number of compositions for the church. It perhaps gives a good idea of the estimation in which he was held while living, that a critic highly esteemed in his day said that it would be a sorry day for the world when the operas of Jomelli were forgotten, at the same time pronouncing them superior to those of Mozart. Not a single line of Jomelli is performed at the present time, nor is likely ever to be; but the works of Mozart still retain their popularity.

Another prolific composer of the Neapolitan school was Antonio Maria Gasparo Sacchini (1724-1786). This clever composer was very successful in his lifetime, his operas being produced in all parts of Europe. Nevertheless they are monotonous in character, and have little depth. He has very little importance for the history of music. Still another, also from the Neapolitan school, was Piccini (1728-1800). His first operas were produced in 1754, and from that time on for about forty years he was a very popular composer, his works being produced in every theater, and in 1778 he was set up as an idol by his admirers, in opposition to Gluck. He was highly honored by Napoleon, who took pleasure in distinguishing him for the sake of humbling several much more deserving musicians. The complete list of his works in Fetis contains eighty operas. His biographer credits him with one hundred and thirty-three. Yet another composer of the Neapolitan school was Giovanni Paisiello (1741-1815). From the time of his first operas to his death, he was highly esteemed as a composer. In 1776 he was invited by the Empress Catharine to St. Petersburg, where he lived for eight years, and among other operas which he composed while there was "Il Barbiere di Siviglia." In 1799 he was called to Paris, where Napoleon very greatly distinguished him. Upon leaving Paris, in 1803, Napoleon desired him to name his successor, when he performed the creditable act of nominating Lesueur, who was at that time unknown. The list of his works embraces ninety-four operas and 103 masses. His music was melodious and pleasing, but rather feeble; he is regarded, however, as the inventor of the concerted finale, which has since been so largely developed in opera. Perhaps the best of all the Neapolitan composers of this half century was Zingarelli (1752-1827). Zingarelli was not only a good musician and a good composer, but a man of ability and principle. He was an associate pupil with Cimarosa. After leaving the conservatory he took lessons upon the violin, and in 1779 produced a cantata at the San Carlo theater. Two years later his first opera was produced at the same theater with great applause, "Montezuma." He then went to Milan, where most of his later works were produced. He was an extremely rapid worker, his librettist stating it as a fact that all the music of his successful opera of "Alsinda" was composed in seven days, although the composer was in ill health at the time. Another of his best works, his "Giulietta e Romeo," was composed in about eight days. It is said that this astonishing facility was acquired through the discipline of his teacher Speranza, who obliged his pupils to write the same composition many times over, with change of time and signature, but without any change in the fundamental ideas. While busily engaged as a popular opera composer, Zingarelli found time to compose much church music, his most important works being masses and cantatas. Of the former there still exist a very large number; of the latter about twenty. He made a trip to France in 1789, where he brought out a new opera, "L'Antigone"; he was appointed musical director at the cathedral at Milan in 1792, and two years later at Loretto, Naples. Thence he was transferred to the Sistine chapel at Rome, and finally in 1813 he was appointed director of the Royal College of Music at Naples, in which position he spent the remainder of his long and active life.

He produced about thirty-two operas, twenty-one oratorios and cantatas, and there are about 500 manuscripts of his in the "Annuale di Loreto." As a composer of comic operas Zingarelli became popular all over Europe, but he was nevertheless a serious, even a devout composer. He was extremely abstemious, rose early, worked hard all day, and, after a piece of bread and a glass of wine for supper, retired early to rest. He was never married, but found his satisfaction in the successes of his musical children, among whom were Bellini, Mercadante, Ricci, Sir Michael Costa, Florimo, etc.

IV.

In this, as in the preceding century, there was very little activity in England in the realm of opera music, beyond that of foreign composers imported for special engagements. In the last part of the seventeenth century, however, there was a real genius in English music, who, if he had lived longer, would in all probability have made a mark distinguishable even across the channel, and upon the chart of the world's activity in music. That composer was Henry Purcell (1658-1695), born in London, of a musical family. His father having died while the boy was a mere infant, he was presently admitted as a choir boy in the Chapel Royal, the musical director being Captain Cook, and later Pelham Humpfrey. In 1675, when yet only seventeen years of age, Purcell composed an opera, "Dido and AEneas," which is grand opera in all respects, there being no spoken dialogue but recitative—the first work of the kind in English. It contains some very spirited numbers. After this he composed music to a large number of dramatic pieces, many anthems, held the position of master of the Chapel Royal, and in many ways occupied an honored and distinguished position. He was one of the earliest composers to furnish music to some of Shakespeare's plays, and his "Full Fathom Five" and "Come unto These Yellow Sands," from the "Tempest," have held the stage until the present time. He was in all respects the most vigorous and original of English composers. He died in the fullness of his powers and was buried in Westminster Abbey. The portrait here given was painted by John Closterman, and originally engraved for his "Orpheus Britannicus." It is impossible not to wonder whether the future of English music might not have been better if the powerful figure of the great master Haendel had not dwarfed all native effort in Britain after Purcell.



In the eighteenth century the most notable English composer was Dr. Thomas Arne (1710-1778), who enjoyed a well deserved reputation as an excellent dramatic composer, the author of many songs still reckoned among English classics, and the composer of the national hymn "Rule Britannia," which occurred as an incident in his masque of "Alfred," 1740. Dr. Arne has all the characteristics of a genuine national composer. His music was immediately popular, and held the stage for many years. His first piece was Fielding's "Opera of Operas," produced in 1733. The full list of his pieces reached upwards of forty-one operas and plays to which he furnished the music, two oratorios, "Abel" and "Judith," and a variety of occasional music. His style is somewhat like that of Haendel, a remark which was true of all English composers for more than a hundred years after Haendel's death; but it is forcible, melodious and direct. His music was not known outside of England.



CHAPTER XXX.

PIANO PLAYING AND VIRTUOSI; THE VIOLIN; TARTINI AND SPOHR.

I.

It was during the eighteenth century that the pianoforte definitely established itself in the estimation of musicians, artists and the common people, as the handiest and most useful of domestic and solo instruments. The progress was very slow at first, the musicians such as Bach, Haendel, Scarlatti and Rameau, the four great virtuosi of the beginning of this century, generally preferred the older forms of the instrument, the clavier or the harpsichord, both on account of their more agreeable touch and the sweetness of their tones. Nevertheless the style of playing and of writing for these instruments underwent a gradual change at the hands of these very masters, of such a character that when the pianoforte became generally recognized as superior to its predecessors, about the middle of the century, the compositions of Bach and Scarlatti were found well adapted to the newer and more powerful instrument. The pianoforte itself underwent several modifications from the primitive forms of action devised by Cristofori in 1711, rendering it more responsive to the touch. All this, relating to the mechanical perfection of the instrument, although appropriate in part to the present moment of the narrative, is deferred until a later chapter, when the entire history of this instrument will be considered in detail. From that it will be seen, by comparing dates, that every important mechanical step in advance was followed by immediate modifications of the style of writing and playing, whereby the progress toward fullness and manifold suggestiveness of music for this instrument has been steady and great.

The first of the great virtuosi was Domenico Scarlatti (1683-1757), son of the great Alessandro Scarlatti, and a pupil of his father, and of other masters whose names are now uncertain. He was a moderately successful composer of operas and works for the Church, but his distinguishing merit was that of a virtuoso upon the harpsichord—the pianoforte of that time. He was the first of the writers upon the harpsichord who introduced difficulties for the pleasure of overcoming them, and who, in his own country, was without peer as performer until Haendel came there and surpassed him, in 1708. Scarlatti was also a performer upon the organ, but upon this instrument he unhesitatingly confessed Haendel to be his superior. In 1715 Scarlatti succeeded Baj as chapel master at St. Peter's in Rome, where he composed much church music. His operas were successful in their own day, but were soon forgotten. His pianoforte compositions still remain as a necessary part of the education of the modern virtuoso. They are free in form, brilliant in execution, and melodious after the Italian manner. Many of them are still excessively difficult to play, in spite of the progress in technique which has been made since.

There were many other composers in the early part of this century who exercised a local and temporary influence in the direction of popularizing the pianoforte and its music, through the attractiveness of their own playing, as well as by the compositions they produced. Among these must not be forgotten Mattheson, the Hamburgh composer of operas (p. 242), who published many works for piano, including suites, sonatas and other pieces in the free style. Johann Kuhnau (1667-1722), predecessor of Bach as cantor at Leipsic, published a variety of sonatas and other compositions in free style, about the beginning of the eighteenth century. Of still greater importance than the last named, was Rameau, the French theorist and operatic composer (p. 336). His compositions were attractive and very original, and in addition to the charm of his own playing, and that of his works, he placed later musicians under lasting obligations by his treatise upon the art of accompanying upon the clavecin and organ, in which his theories of chords were applied to valuable practical use.

The work of all these and of many others who might be mentioned, not forgetting several English writers, such as Dr. Blow, Dr. John Bull and the gifted artist Purcell (see p. 350), must be regarded as merely preparatory for the advance made during the last part of the eighteenth century. It was Haydn who began to demand of the pianoforte more of breadth, and a certain coloration of touch, which he must have needed in his elaborative passages in the middle of the sonata piece. This kind of free fantasia upon the leading motives of the work, was planned after the style of thematic discussion of leading motives by the orchestra, and the obvious cue of the player is to impart to the different sequences and changes of the motives as characteristic tone-colors as possible, for the sake of rendering them more interesting to the hearers, and possibly of affording them more expression. Haydn's work was followed by that of Mozart, who gave the world the adagio upon the piano. Then in the fullness of time came Beethoven, who after all must be regarded as the great improver of piano playing of this century, as well as that of the next following. Beethoven improved the piano style in the surest and most influential manner possible. In his own playing he was far in advance of the virtuosi of the eighteenth century, and in his foresight of farther possibilities in the direction of tone sustaining and coloration he went still farther. This is seen in all his concertos, especially in the fourth and fifth, in the piano trios, and the quartette; but still more in the later pianoforte sonatas. Here the piano is treated with a boldness, and at the same time a delicacy and poetic quality, which taxes the greatest players of the present time to accomplish. The most advanced virtuoso works of Chopin, Schumann and Liszt, the three great masters of the pianoforte in the nineteenth century, are but slightly beyond the demands of these later sonatas of the great Vienna master.

In the later part of the eighteenth century there were a number of pianoforte virtuosi whose merits claim our attention at this point. At the head, in point of time, was the great Italian master, Muzio Clementi (1752-1832). Born at about the same time as Mozart, he outlived Beethoven. His early studies were pursued at Rome with so much enthusiasm that at the age of fourteen he had produced several important compositions of a contrapuntal character. These being successfully performed, attracted the attention of an English amateur living in Rome, who offered to take charge of the boy, carry him to England and see that his career was opened under favorable auspices. Until 1770, therefore (the year of Beethoven's birth), Clementi pursued his studies near London. Then, in the full force of his remarkable virtuosity, he burst upon the town. He carried everything before him, and had a most unprecedented success. His command of the instrument surpassed everything previously seen. After three years as cembalist and conductor at the Italian opera in London, he set out upon a tour as virtuoso. In 1781 he appeared in Paris, and so on toward Munich, Strassburg, and at length Vienna, where he met Haydn, and where, at the instigation of the Emperor Joseph II, he had a sort of musical contest with the young Mozart. Clementi, after a short prelude, introduced his sonata in B flat, the opening motive of which was afterward employed by Mozart in the introduction to the overture to the "Magic Flute"; and followed it up with a toccata abounding in runs in diatonic thirds and other doublestops for the right hand, at that time esteemed very difficult. The victory was regarded as doubtful, Mozart compensating for his less brilliant execution by his beautiful singing touch, of which Clementi ever afterward spoke with admiration. Moreover, from this meeting he himself endeavored to put more music and less show into his own compositions. Clementi was soon back in England, where he remained until 1802, when he took his promising pupil, John Field, inventor of the nocturne, upon a tour of Europe, as far as St. Petersburg, where they were received with unbounded enthusiasm. In 1810 he returned to London and gave up concert playing in public. He wrote symphonies for the London Philharmonic Society, published very many sonatas for piano (about 100 in all), and in 1817 published his master work, a set of 100 studies for the piano, in all styles, the "Gradus ad Parnassum," upon which to a considerable extent the entire modern art of piano playing depends. Clementi's idea in the work was to provide for the entire training of the pupil by means of it; not alone upon the technical, but upon the artistic side as well, and the majority of the pieces have artistic purpose no less than technical. The wide range taken by piano literature since Clementi's day, however, reduces the teacher to the alternative of confining the pupil to the works of one writer, in case the entire work is used, or of employing only the purely technical part of the "Gradus," accomplishing the other side of the development by means of compositions of more poetic and older masters. The latter is the course now generally pursued by the great teachers, and this was the reason influencing the selection of studies from the "Gradus" made by the virtuoso, Tausig. Clementi's compositions exercised considerable influence upon Beethoven, who esteemed his sonatas better than those of Mozart. The opinion was undoubtedly based upon the freedom with which Clementi treated the piano, as distinguished from the gentle and somewhat tame manner of Mozart. The element of manly strength was that which attracted Beethoven, himself a virtuoso.



Another of the first virtuosi to gain distinction upon the pianoforte, in the latter part of this century and the first part of the nineteenth, was J.L. Dussek (1761-1812). This highly gifted musician was born in Czaslau, in Bohemia, and his early musical studies were made upon the organ, upon which he early attained distinction, holding one prominent position after another, his last being at Berg-op-Zoom. He next went to Amsterdam, and presently after to the Hague, still later, in 1788, to London, where he lived twelve years. It was there that Haydn met him, and wrote to Dussek's father in high terms of his son's talents and good qualities. Afterward he was back again upon the continent, living for some years with Prince Louis Ferdinand, and having right good times with him, both musically and festively. He died in France. He made many concert tours in different periods of his life, and his playing was highly esteemed from one end of Europe to the other. A contemporary writer says of him: "As a virtuoso he is unanimously placed in the very first rank. In rapidity and sureness of execution, in a mastery of the greatest difficulties, it would be hard to find a pianist who surpasses him; in neatness and precision of execution, possibly one (John Cramer, of London); in soul, expression and delicacy, certainly none." The brilliant pianist and teacher Tomaschek said of him: "There was, in fact, something magical in the manner in which Dussek, with all his charming grace of manner, through his wonderful touch, extorted from the instrument delicious and at the same time emphatic tones. His fingers were like a company of ten singers, endowed with equal executive powers, and able to produce with the utmost perfection whatever their director could require. I never saw the Prague public so enchanted as they were on this occasion by Dussek's splendid playing. His fine declamatory style, especially in cantabile phrases, stands as the ideal for every artistic performance—something which no other pianist since has reached. He was the first of the virtuosi who placed the piano sideways upon the platform, although the later ones may not have had an interesting profile to exhibit."

The published works of this fine musician and creditable composer number nearly 100, and the sonata cuts a leading figure among them. He treated the piano with much more freedom and breadth than Mozart, though this is not so much to his credit as if he had not lived many years after Mozart died, his earliest compositions falling very near the last years of that great genius. He was distinctly a virtuoso, loving his instrument and its tonal powers. He was the first of all the players whose public performances called attention to the quality of tone, and its singing power. This also points not alone to the fact of his career falling in with the increased powers of the pianoforte, as a result of the inventions of Erard, Collard and Broadwood, but is to his personal credit, since it was genius in him enabling him to recognize these possibilities, at a time when most players were still in ignorance of them. As a composer he wrote many things of more than average excellence, and some of his lighter compositions still have vitality. It is altogether likely that Beethoven was influenced by Dussek's playing, in the direction of tone-color. Indeed, the third sonata of Beethoven can hardly be accounted for without recognizing Dussek as the composer upon some one of whose works its general style and form were modeled.

Another pianist of considerable importance, a disciple of Mozart, yet with originality of his own, was J.B. Cramer (1771-1858). This talented and deserving musician was the son of a musician living at Mannheim, who removed to London when the young Cramer was but one year old. There the boy grew up, receiving his education from several reputable masters, Clementi being among them. His taste was formed by the diligent study of the works of Emanuel Bach, Haydn and Mozart. In spirit Cramer was a disciple of the last named, but from living to a good old age, he naturally surpassed his ideal in the treatment of the pianoforte. In the latter part of the eighteenth century there were few musical compositions sold over the music counters in Vienna and the musical world generally, but those of Dussek, Cramer and Pleyel, while those of Beethoven were comparatively neglected. Cramer's compositions were slight in real merit, his fame resting upon his studies for the piano, of which about thirty out of the entire 100 are very good music. The second, and last, book of these were published in 1810. They do not form a necessary part of the training of a virtuoso, but they have decided merits, and are generally included to this day in the list of pianistic indispensables. Cramer's style of playing was quiet and elegant. Moscheles gives an idea of it in his diary, and regrets that he should allow the snuff, which he took incessantly, to get upon the keys. Cramer's studies preceded those of Clementi, and very likely may have inspired them through a desire of illustrating a bolder and more masterly style of pianism.

Among the many talented pupils of Clementi was Ludwig Berger (1777-1838), of Berlin, whose unmistakable gifts for the piano attracted the master's attention when he was in Berlin in 1802, and he took him along with him to St. Petersburg. After living some years in that city, and later in London, he returned to Berlin, where he was held in the highest esteem as teacher until his death. Among the distinguished who studied with him were Mendelssohn, Taubert, Henselt, Fanny Hensel, Herzsberg, and others. He was an indefatigable composer of decided originality. But few of his works were published. A set of his studies is highly esteemed by many.

In further illustration of the Mozart principles of piano playing, and with a reputation as composer, which in his lifetime was curiously beyond his merits, was J.M. Hummel (1778-1837). He was born at Presburg, and had the good luck to attract the favorable notice of Mozart. He was received into the house of the master, and was regarded as the best representative of Mozart's ideas. He made his early appearances as a child pianist under the care of his father, in most parts of Germany and Holland. In 1804 he succeeded Haydn as musical director to the Esterhazy establishment. He afterward held several other appointments of credit, and played much in all parts of Europe. He was a pleasant player, with a light, smooth touch, suited to the Viennese pianofortes of the time.



The latest of the virtuosi representing the classical traditions of the pianoforte, uninfluenced by the new methods which came in with Thalberg and Liszt, was Ignaz Moscheles (1794-1870). He was born at Prague, his father being a cloth merchant and Israelite.



He had the usual childhood of promising musicians, playing everything he could lay his hands upon, including Beethoven's "Sonata Pathetique," and at the age of seven he was taken to Dionys Weber, whose verdict is worth remembering. He said: "Candidly speaking, the boy is on the wrong road, for he makes hash of great works which he does not understand, and to which he is entirely unequal. But he has talent, and I could make something of him if you were to hand him over to me for three years, and follow out my plan to the letter. The first year he must play nothing but Mozart, the second Clementi, the third Bach; but only that—not a note as yet of Beethoven, and if he persists in using the circulating musical libraries, I have done with him forever." Having completed his studies after this severe regime, Moscheles began his concert appearances, which were everywhere successful.

He continued his studies in Vienna with Salieri, and Beethoven thought so well of him that he engaged him to make the pianoforte arrangement of "Fidelio." This was in 1814.

In 1815 he produced his famous variations upon the Alexander march, Opus 32, from which his reputation as virtuoso dates. His active concert service began about 1820, and extended throughout Europe. In 1826 he settled in London, where he was held in the highest esteem, both as man and musician. He became a fast friend of Mendelssohn, who had been his pupil in Berlin, and in 1846 joined him at Leipsic, where he continued until his death. Moscheles was originally a solid and brilliant player. Later he became famous as one of the best living representatives of the true style and interpretation of the Beethoven sonatas. He never advanced beyond the Clementi principles of piano playing, the works of Chopin and Liszt remaining sealed books to his fingers, to the very last. As a teacher he was painstaking and patient, and he was honored by all who knew him. All his life he kept a diary, from which a very readable volume has been compiled, with many glimpses of other eminent musicians. It is called "Recent Music and Musicians."

II.

The art of violin playing also made great progress during this century, its most eminent representative being Giuseppe Tartini (1692-1770). He was born in Pirano, in Istria, and was intended for the church, but upon coming of age he fell in love with a lady somewhat above him in rank, and was secretly married to her. When this fact was discovered by her relatives he was obliged to fly, and having taken refuge in a monastery he remained there two years, during which he diligently devoted himself to music, being his own instructor upon the violin, but a pupil of the college organist in counterpoint and composition. Later, being united to his wife, he made still further studies on the violin, and by 1721 had returned to Padua, where he evermore resided, his reputation bringing him a sufficient number of pupils to assist his rather meager salary as solo violinist of the cathedral. He was a virtuoso violinist greater than any one before him. Besides employing the higher positions more freely than had previously been the case, he appears to have made great improvements in the art of bowing, and his playing was characterized by great purity and depth of sentiment, and at times with most astonishing passion. He was a composer of extraordinary merit, several of his pieces for the violin still forming part of the concert repertory of artists. His famous "Trillo del Diavolo," is well known. He dreamed that he had sold his soul to the devil, and on the whole was well pleased with the behavior of that gentlemanly personage. But it occurred to him to ask his strange associate to play something for him on the violin. Cheerfully Satan took the instrument, and immediately improvised a sonata of astonishing force and wild passion, concluding it with a great passage of trills, of superhuman power and beauty; Tartini awoke in an ecstasy of admiration. Whereupon he sought after every manner to reduce to paper the wonderful composition of his dream. Fine as was the work thus produced, Tartini always maintained that it fell far short of the glorious virtuoso piece which he had heard.

Tartini was in some sort a forerunner of the modern romantic school. He was accustomed to take a poem as the basis of an instrumental piece. He wrote the words along the score and conducted the music wherever the spirit of the words took it. He was also in the habit of affixing to his published works mottoes, indicative of their poetic intention. With this general characterization his music well agrees, for in dreamy moods it has a mystical beauty till then unknown in music. He is also entitled to lasting memory on account of his having first discovered the phenomenon of "combination tones," the under resultant which is produced when two tones are sounded together upon the violin, especially in the higher parts of the compass. These tones are the roots of the consonances sounding, and Tartini directed the attention of his pupils to them as a guide to correct intonation in double stops, since they do not occur unless the intonation is pure. He made this important discovery about 1714, and in 1754 he published a treatise on harmony embodying the combination tones as a basis of a system of harmony. This having been violently attacked, his second work of this kind, "On the Principles of Musical Harmony Contained in the Diatonic Genus," was published in 1767. Tartini, therefore, must be reckoned among the great masters who have contributed to a true doctrine of the tonal system. Copies of his theoretical writings are in the Newberry Library at Chicago.

In the latter part of the eighteenth century and the first of the next following the art of violin playing was best illustrated by the German artist, Louis Spohr (1784-1859), who was almost or quite as great as a composer, as in his early career of a virtuoso. In his own specialty he was one of the most eminent masters who has ever appeared. His technique was founded upon that of his predecessors of the school of Viotti and Rode, but his own individuality was so decided that he soon found out a style original with himself. Its distinguishing quality was the singing tone. He never reconciled himself to the light bow introduced by Paganini, and all his work is distinguished by sweetness, singing quality and a flowing melodiousness. He was fond of chromatic harmonies and double stops, which imparted great sonority to his playing. He was born at Brunswick, and early commenced to study music. At the age of fifteen he played in the orchestra of the duke of Brunswick, at a yearly salary of about $100. Later he studied and traveled with Eck, a great player of the day, and upon his return to Brunswick he became leader of the orchestra. His virtuoso career commenced about 1803. Two years later he became musical director at Gotha, where he married a charming harp player, Dorette Scheidler, who invariably afterward appeared with him in all their concerts. They traveled in their own carriage, having suitable boxes for the harp and the violin. In 1813 he was musical director at the theater, "An der Wein," at Vienna, where among his violinists was Moritz Hauptmann, afterward so celebrated as theorist.

Soon after his arrival in Vienna, Spohr received a singular proposition from one Herr von Tost, to the effect "that for a proportionate pecuniary consideration I would assign over to him all I might compose, or had already written, in Vienna, for the term of three years, to be his sole property during that time; to give him the original scores, and to keep myself even no copy of them. After the lapse of three years he would return the manuscript to me, and I should then be at liberty either to publish or sell them. After I had pondered a moment over this strange and enigmatical proposition, I asked him whether the compositions were not to be played during those three years? Whereupon Herr von Tost replied: 'Oh, yes! As often as possible, but each time upon my lending them for that purpose, and only in my presence.'" He desired such pieces as could be produced in private circles, and would therefore prefer quartettes and quintettes for stringed instruments, and sextettes, octettes and nonettes for stringed and wind instruments. Spohr was to consider the proposition and fix upon the sum to be paid for the different kinds of compositions. Finding on inquiry that Herr von Tost was a wealthy man, very fond of music, Spohr fixed the price at thirty ducats for a quartette, thirty-five for a quintette, and so on, progressively higher for the different kinds of composition. On being questioned as to his object, Von Tost replied: "I have two objects in view: First, I desire to be invited to the musical parties where you will execute your compositions, and for that I must have them in my keeping. Secondly, possessing such treasures of art, I hope upon my business journeys to make extensive acquaintance among the lovers of music, which may then serve me also in my manufacturing interests." This singular bargain was duly consummated and faithfully carried out, and the wealthy patron proved of great service to the Spohrs in procuring their housekeeping outfit from various tradesmen with whom he had dealings, and he would not suffer Spohr to pay for anything, saying only, "Give yourself no uneasiness; you will soon square everything with your compositions."

The most important of Spohr's works is his great school for the violin, published in 1831. He left also a vast amount of chamber music, fifteen concertos for violin and orchestra, nine symphonies, four oratories, of which "The Last Judgment" is perhaps the best, ten operas, many concert overtures, etc.—in all more than 200 works, many of them of large dimensions. His best operas are "Jessonda" (1823), "Faust" (1818), "The Alchemist" (1832) and "The Crusaders" (1845). His orchestral works are richly instrumented, and the coloring is sweet and mellow, yet at times extremely sonorous.

During his residence in Vienna, Spohr met Beethoven many times. He was one of the first to introduce the earlier quartettes, in his concerts throughout Germany, and valued them properly. But in regard to the Beethoven symphonies he placed himself on record in a highly entertaining manner. He says of the melody of the famous "Hymn to Joy," in Beethoven's ninth symphony, that it is so "monstrous and tasteless, and its grasp of Schiller's ode so trivial, that I cannot even now understand how a genius like Beethoven could have written it."



Book Fifth.

THE

Period of the Romantic.

WEBER, PAGANINI, SCHUBERT, BERLIOZ, MEYERBEER, MENDELSSOHN, SCHUMANN, CHOPIN, LISZT, WAGNER; THE VIRTUOSI; MUSIC OF THE FUTURE.



CHAPTER XXXI.

THE NINETEENTH CENTURY, THE ROMANTIC; MUSIC OF THE FUTURE.

In ordinary speech a distinction is made between the musical productions of the eighteenth century and those of the next following; the former being called Classic, the latter Romantic. The terms are used rather indefinitely. According to Hegel, whose teaching coincided with the last years of Beethoven's life, the classic in art embraces those productions in which the general is aimed at, rather than the particular; the reposeful and completely satisfactory, rather than the forced, or the sensational; and the beautiful rather than the exciting. The philosopher Hegel, who was one of the first to employ this distinction in art criticism, took his departure from the famous group of Laocooen and his sons in the embrace of the destroying serpents. This group, so full of agony and irrepressible horror, belongs, he said, to a totally different concept of art from that of the gods and goddesses of Greece, in the beauty and freshness of their eternal youth. These qualities are those of the general and the eternal; the Laocooen, in its nature painful, was not nor could be permanently satisfactory in and of itself, but only through allowance being made by reason of interest in the story told by it. According to more recent philosophers, the romantic movement in literature and art (for they are parts of the same general movement of the latter part of the eighteenth century) has its essential characteristic in the doctrine that what is to be sought in art is not the pleasing and the satisfactory, so much as the true. Everything, they say, belonging to life and experience, is fit subject of art; to the end that thereby the soul may learn to understand itself, and come to complete self-consciousness. The entire movement of the romantic writers had for its moving principle the maxim, Nihil humanum alienum a me puto ("I will consider nothing human to be foreign to me"). Yet other writers make the romantic element to consist of the striking, the strongly contrasted, the exciting, and so at length the sensational. Whichever construction we may put upon this much used and seldom determined term, its general meaning is that of a distinction from the more moderate writings and compositions of the eighteenth century. Individualism, as opposed to the general, is the key to the romantic, and in music this principle has acquired great dominance throughout the century in which we are still living. Moreover, if the principle of individualism had not been discovered in its application to the other arts, it must necessarily have found its way into music, for music is the most subjective of all the arts; having indeed its general principles of form and proportion, but coming to the composer (if he be a genius) as the immediate expression of his own feelings and moods, or as the interplay of his environment and the inner faculties of musical phantasy.

In this sense there is a difference between the music of Bach and Mozart, on the one hand, and that of Beethoven and Schubert, on the other. Beethoven was essentially a romantic composer, especially after he had passed middle life, and the period of the "Moonlight" sonata. From that time on, his works are more and more free in form, and their moods are more strongly marked and individual. This is true of Beethoven, in spite of his having been born, as we might say, under the star of the classic. He writes freely and fantastically, in spite of his early training. The mood in the man dominated everything, and it is always this which finds its expression in the music.

The romantic, therefore, represents an enlargement of the domain of music, by the acquisition of provinces outside its boundaries, and belonging originally to the domains of poetry and painting. And so by romantic is meant the general idea of representing in music something outside, of telling a story or painting a picture by means of music. The principle was already old, being involved in the very conception of opera, which in the nature of the case is an attempt to make music do duty as describer of the inner feelings and experiences of the dramatis personae. Nevertheless, while leading continually to innovations in musical discourse for almost two centuries, it was prevented from having more than momentary entrances into instrumental music until the beginning of the nineteenth century, when the general movement of mind known as the romantic was at its height. In France the writers of this group carried on war against classic tradition—the idea that every literary work should be modeled after one of those of the ancient writers; subjects of tragedy should be taken from Greek mythology or history; and the characters should think like the classics, and speak in the formal and stilted phraseology of the vernacular translations out of the ancient works. These writers, also, were those who upheld the rights of man, and produced declarations of independence. In short, it was the principle of individualism, as opposed to the merely general and conventional, for we may remember that the conventional had a large place in ancient art. Plato says (see p. 38) that the Egyptians had patterns of the good in all forms of art, framed and displayed in their temples. And new productions were to be judged by comparing them with these, and when they contained different principles, they were upon that account to be condemned and prohibited.

In farther evidence of the correspondence between the musical activity in this direction, and the general movement of mind at this period, including the shaking up of the dry bones in every part of the social order, (the French revolution being the most extreme and drastic illustration), we may observe that the composer through whom this element entered into the art of music in its first free development was Franz Schubert, who was born during the years when this disturbance was at its height, namely, in 1797. Moreover, the manner in which his inspiration to musical creation was received corresponded exactly to the definition of the romantic given above; for it was always through reading a poem or a story that these strange and beautiful musical combinations occurred to him, many instances of which are given in the sketch later. It is curious, furthermore, that the general method of Schubert's musical thought is classical in its repose, save where directly associated with a text of a picture-building character, or of decided emotion. Thus, while it is not possible to separate one part of the works of this composer from another, and to say of the one that it belongs to an older dispensation, while the other part represents a different principle of art (both parts alike having the same general treatment of melody, and the same refined and poetic atmosphere), it is, nevertheless, true that if we had only the sonatas, chamber pieces, and the symphonies of Schubert, no one would think of classing his works differently from those of Mozart, as to their operative principles. But when we have the songs, the five or six hundred of them, the operas and other vocal works, in which music is so lovely in and of itself, yet at the same time so descriptive, so loyal to the changing moods of the text, we necessarily interpret the instrumental music in the same light, especially when we know that there are no distinct periods in the short life of this composer concerning which different principles can be predicated.

Almost immediately after Schubert there come composers in whom the new tendency is more marked. Mendelssohn entered the domain of the romantic in 1826, with his overture to the "Midsummer Night's Dream," and directly after him came Schumann, with a luxuriant succession of deeply moved, imaginative, quasi-descriptive, or at any rate representative, pianoforte pieces. Schumann, indeed, did not need to read a poem in order to find musical ideas flowing in unaccustomed channels. The ideas took these forms and channels of their own accord, as we see in his very first pieces, his "Papillons," "Intermezzi," "Davidsbundlertaenze" and the like. So, too, with Chopin. There is very little of the descriptive and the picture-making element in his works. Nevertheless, they chimed in so well with the unrest, the somewhat Byronic sentiment, the vague yearning of the period, that they found a public without loss of time, and established themselves in the popular taste without having had to find a propaganda movement for explaining them as the foretokens of a "music of the future."

This representative work in music has been very much helped by the astonishing development of virtuosity upon the violin, the pianoforte and other instruments, which distinguishes this century. Beginning with Paganini, whose astonishing violin playing was first heard during the last years of the eighteenth century, we have Thalberg, Chopin, Liszt, Rubinstein, Joachim, Tausig, Leonard, and a multitude of others, through whose efforts the general appreciation of instrumental music has been wonderfully stimulated, and the appetite for overcoming difficulties and realizing great effects so much increased as to have permanently elevated the standard of complication in musical discourse, and the popular average of performance.

Nor has virtuosity been confined to single instruments. There have been two great virtuosi in orchestration, during this century, who have exercised as great an influence in this complicated and elaborate department, as the others mentioned have upon their own solo instruments. The first of these was Hector Berlioz, the great French master, whose earlier compositions were produced in 1835, when the instruments of the orchestra were combined in vast masses, and with descriptive intention, far beyond anything by previous writers. In his later works, such as the "Damnation of Faust," and the mighty Requiem, Berlioz far surpassed these efforts, every one of his effects afterward proving to have been well calculated. Directly after his early works came the first of that much discussed genius, Richard Wagner, who besides being one of the most profound and acute intelligences ever distinguished in music, and a great master of the province of opera (in which he accomplished stupendous creations), was also an orchestral virtuoso, coloring when he chose, with true instinct, for the mere sake of color; and massing and contrasting instruments in endless variety and beauty.

The activity in musical production during the nineteenth century has been so extraordinary in amount and in the number of composers concerned in it, and so ample in the range of musical effects brought to realization, as fully to illustrate the truth of the principle enunciated at the outset of this narrative, namely: That the course of musical progress has been toward greater complication of tonal effects in every direction; implying upon the part of composers the possession of more inclusive principles of tonal unity; and upon the part of the hearers, to whom these vast works have been addressed, the possession of corresponding powers of tonal perception, and the persistence of impressions for a sufficient length of time in each instance for the underlying unity to be realized.

As an incident in the rapidity of the progress on the part of composers, we have had what is called "the music of the future"; namely, productions of one generation intelligible to the finer intelligences of that generation, yet "music of the future" to all the others; but in the generation following, these compositions have gone into the common stock, through the progress of the faculties of hearing and of deeper perceptions of tonal relations. Meanwhile there has been created another stratum of music of the future, which may be expected to occupy the attention of the generation next ensuing, to whom in turn it will become the music of the present.

In the nature of the case, there is not, nor can there be, a stopping place, unless we conceive the possibility of a return to the conservatism of Plato and the ancient Egyptians, and the passage of statute laws permitting the employment of chords and rhythms up to a certain specified degree of complexity, beyond which their use would constitute a grave statutory offense. It is possible that the ideal of art might again be "reformed" in the direction of restriction from the uncomely, the forced and the sensational, and in favor of the beautiful, the becoming and the divine. Nevertheless, it is the inevitable consequence of a prescription of this kind to run into mere prettiness and tuneful emptiness. Protection is a failure in art. The spirit must have freedom, or it will never take its grandest flights. And it is altogether possible that the needed corrective will presently be discovered of itself, through the progress of spirit into a clearer vision, a higher aspiration and a nobler sense of beauty. This we may hope will be one of the distinctions of the coming ages, which poets have foretold and seers have imagined, when truth and love will prevail and find their illustration in a civilization conformed of its own accord to the unrestricted outflowing of these deep, eternal, divine principles.



CHAPTER XXXII.

SCHUBERT AND THE ROMANTIC.

The first two great figures of the nineteenth century were those of Carl Maria von Weber, whose work will be considered later, and the great song writer, Franz Peter Schubert (1797-1828). This remarkable man was born of poor parents in Vienna, or near it, his father being a schoolmaster, earning the proverbially meager stipend of the profession in Germany at that time, amounting to no more than $100 or $200 a year. The family was musical, and the Sundays were devoted to quartette playing and other forms of music. The boy Franz early showed a fine ear. He was soon put to the study of the violin and the piano—while still a mere child being furnished with a small violin, upon which he went through the motions of his father's part. He had a fine voice, and this attracted the attention of the director of the choir in the great Cathedral of St. Stephen's, as it had in Haydn's case, and he was presently enrolled as chorister and a member of what was called the "Convict," a school connected with the church, where the boys had schooling as well as musical instruction. Early he began to write, among his first works being certain pieces for the piano and violin, composed when he was a little more than eleven. In the "Convict" school there was an orchestra where they practiced symphonies and overtures of Haydn, Mozart, Kotzeluch, Cherubini, Mehul, Krommer, and occasionally Beethoven. Here his playing immediately put him on a level with the older boys. One of them turned around one day to see who it was playing so cleverly, and found it "a little boy in spectacles," named Franz Schubert. The two boys became intimate, and one day the little fellow, blushing deeply, admitted to the older one that he had composed much, and would do so still more if he could get the music paper. Spaun saw the state of affairs, and took care thereafter that the music paper should be forthcoming. In time Franz became first violin, and when the conductor was absent, took his place. The orchestral music delighted him greatly, and of the Mozart adagio, in the G minor symphony, he said that "you could hear the angels singing." Among other works which particularly delighted him were the overtures to the "Magic Flute" and "Figaro." The particular object of his reverence was Beethoven, who was then at the height of his fame, but he never met the great master more than once or twice. Once when a few boyish songs had been sung to words by Klopstock, Schubert asked his friend whether he could ever do anything after Beethoven. His friend answered, perhaps he could do a great deal. To which the boy responded: "Perhaps; I sometimes have dreams of that sort; but who can do anything after Beethoven?" The boy made but small reputation for scholarship in the school, after the thirst for composition had taken possession of him, which it did when he had been there but one year. One of his earliest compositions was a fantasia for four hands, having about thirteen movements of different character, occupying about thirty-two pages of fine writing. His brother remarks that not one ends in the key in which it began. He seems to have had a passion for uncanny subjects, for the next work of his is a "Lament of Hagar," of thirteen movements in different keys, unconnected. After this again, a "Corpse Fantasia" to words of Schiller. This has seventeen movements, and is positively erratic in its changes of key. It is full of reminiscences of Haydn's "Creation" and other works. The musical stimulation of this boy was meager indeed. Not until he was thirteen years of age did he hear an opera; and not until he was fifteen a really first-class work, Spontini's "Vestal," in 1812. Three years later he probably heard Gluck's "Iphigenie en Tauride," a work which in his estimation eclipsed them all. During the same year there were the sixth and seventh symphonies, the choral fantasia and portions of the mass in C, and the overture to "Coriolanus," of Beethoven. He was a great admirer of Mozart, and in his diary, under date of June 13, 1816, he speaks of a quintette: "Gently, as if out of a distance, did the magic tones of Mozart's music strike my ears. With what inconceivable alternate force and tenderness did Schlesinger's magic playing impress it deep into my heart! Such lovely impressions remain on my soul, there to work for good, past all power of time and circumstance. In the darkness of this life they reveal a bright, beautiful prospect, inspiring confidence and hope. Oh Mozart, Mozart, what countless consolatory images of a bright, better world hast thou stamped on our souls!"

Presently Schubert entered his father's school, in order to avoid the rigorous conscription, and remained a teacher of the elementary branches for three years. His first important composition was a mass, which was produced honorably October 16, 1814, and many good judges pronounced it equal to any similar work of the kind, excepting possibly Beethoven's mass in C. By 1815 the rage of composition had fully taken possession of the soul of Schubert, and thenceforth poured out from this receptacle of inspiration a steady succession of works of all dimensions and characters, very few of which were performed in his lifetime. Among these works in the year 1815, there are 137 songs, of which only sixty-seven are printed as yet. And in August alone twenty-nine, of which eight are dated the 15th, and seven the 19th. Among these 137 songs some are of such enormous length that this feature alone would have prevented their publication. Of those published, "Die Burgschaft" fills twenty-two pages of the Litolff edition. It was the length of these compositions which caused Beethoven's exclamation upon his death bed: "Such long poems, many of them containing ten others." And this mass of music was produced in the interim of school drudgery. Among these songs of his boyhood years are "Gretchen am Spinnrade," "Der Erl Koenig," "Hedge Roses," "Restless Love," the "Schaefer's Klaglied," the "Ossian" songs, and many others, all falling within the production of this year. It is said that when the "Erl King" was tried in the evening, the listeners at the convict thought it of questionable success. The music of the boy at the words "My father, my father" seemed to be inexcusable, for overwhelmed with fright, he sings a half a tone sharp of the accompaniment.

At length, after about three years, Schubert's services as a schoolmaster becoming less and less valuable, an opening was made for him by Schober, who proposed that Schubert should live with him. He was now free to devote himself to composition, and so thoroughly did he do this that in the year following, 1816, he experienced the novelty of having composed for money, a cantata of his having not only been performed upon the occasion of Salieri's fiftieth anniversary of life in Vienna, but money was sent him for it, 100 florins, Vienna money, about $20 American. He was already composing operas, and in 1816 there was one, "Die Burgschaft," in three acts. In the same year there were two symphonies, the fourth in C minor, called "The Tragic," and the fifth for small orchestra. The songs of this year, however, were of more value. Among them were the "Wanderer's Night Song," the "Fisher," the "Wanderer" and many others now known wherever melody and dramatic quality are appreciated.

The rapidity with which he composed songs was incredible. October, 1815, he finds the poems of Rosegarten, and between the 15th and 19th sets seven of them. "Everything that he touched," says Schumann, "turned into music." At a later date, calling upon one of his friends, he found certain poems by Wilhelm Mueller, and carried them off with him. A few days later, his friend desiring the book, called on Schubert for it, and found that he had already set a number of them to music. They were the songs of the "Schoene Muellerin." A year or so after, returning from a day in the country, they stopped at a tavern, where he found a friend with a volume of Shakespeare open before him. Schubert took up the volume, turned a few pages, became interested in one of the pieces, took up some waste paper, and scribbling the lines proceeded to write a melody. This was the so-called "Shakespeare Serenade," "Hark, Hark, the Lark." The "Serenade," in D minor, is said to have been conceived in a similarly impromptu manner. In 1816 the great tenor, Vogl, made Schubert's acquaintance, having been brought by one of Schubert's admirers. At first the songs did not make much impression upon him; later they grew upon him, and he introduced them among the best circles of the Vienna aristocracy. Vogl appreciated the value of these songs. "Nothing," said he, "so shows the want of a good school of singing as Schubert's songs. Otherwise, what an enormous and universal effect must have been produced throughout the world, wherever the German language is understood, by these truly divine inspirations, these utterances of musical clairvoyance. How many would have comprehended for the first time the meaning of such terms as speech and poetry in music; words in harmony, ideas clothed in music, and would have learned that the finest poems of our greatest poets may be enhanced and even transcended when translated into musical language. Numberless examples might be named, but I will only mention the 'Erl King,' 'Gretchen,' 'Schwager Kronos,' 'The Mignon's and Harper's Songs,' 'Schiller's Pilgrim,' the 'Burgschaft' and the 'Sehnsucht.'"

We are told that within the next two or three years Schubert made a number of friends, and the circle of his admirers was considerably extended. The same remarkable productivity continued. In the summer of 1818 he went to the country seat of Count Esterhazy, where he remained several months. This was in Hungary, and the Hungarian pieces are supposed to date from his residence there. It was not until 1819 that the first song of Schubert was sung in public. This was the "Shepherd's Lament," of which the Leipsic correspondent of the Allgemeine Musikalische Zeitung says: "The touching and feeling composition of this talented young man was sung by Herr Jaeger in a similar spirit." The following year, among other compositions, was the oratorio of "Lazarus," which was composed in three parts—first, the sickness and death, then the burial and elegy, and, finally, the resurrection. The last part, unfortunately, if ever written, has been lost. He made attempts at operatic composition, producing a vast amount of beautiful music, but always to indifferent librettos, so that none of his music was publicly performed. It was not until 1827 and 1828 that his continual practice in orchestral writing resulted in the production of real master works. In this year the unfinished symphony in B minor was produced, in which the two movements that we have are among the most beautiful and poetic that the treasury of orchestral music possesses. The other was the great symphony in C, which was first performed in Leipsic ten years after Schubert's death, through the intervention of Schumann. During all these years since leaving his father's school, Schubert had been living in a very modest manner, with an income which must have been very small and irregular. He was very industrious, usually rising soon after five in the morning, and, after a light breakfast of coffee and rolls, writing steadily about seven hours. The amount of work which he got through in this way was something incredible. Whole acts of operas were composed and beautifully written out in score within a few days. Upon the same morning from three to six songs might be written, if the poems chanced to attract him. He scarcely ever altered or erased, and rarely curtailed. All his music has the character of improvisation. The melody, harmony, the thematic treatment, and the accompaniment with the instrumental coloring, all seem to have occurred to him at the same time. It is only a question of writing it down. Very little of his music was performed during his lifetime—of the songs, first and last, many of them in private circles, and the last two or three years of his life, perhaps twenty or twenty-five in public. A few of his smaller orchestral numbers were played by amateur players, where he may have heard them himself, but his larger works he never heard. All that schooling of ear which Beethoven had, as an orchestral director in youth, Schubert lacked. His studies in counterpoint had never been pursued beyond the rudiments, and the last engagement he made before his death was for lessons with Sechter, the contrapuntal authority in Vienna at that time.

In spontaneity of genius Schubert resembles Mozart more than any other master who ever lived. His early education and training were different from those of Mozart, and musical ideas take different form with him. While Mozart was distinctly a melodist, counterpoint and fugue were at his fingers' ends, and his thematic treatment had all the freedom which comes from a thorough training in the use of musical material. Schubert had not this kind of training. He never wrote a good fugue, and his counterpoint was indifferent; but on the other hand he had several qualities which Mozart had not, and in particular a very curious and interesting mental phenomenon, which we might call psychical resonance or clairvoyance. Whatever poem or story he read immediately called up musical images in his mind. Under the excitement of the sentiment of a poem, or of dramatic incidents narrated, strange harmonies spontaneously suggested themselves, and melodies exquisitely appropriate to the sentiment he desired to convey. He was a musical painter, whose colors were not imitated from something without himself, but were inspired from within.

Schubert was a great admirer of Beethoven, and upon one occasion called upon him with a set of works which he had dedicated to the great master. Beethoven had been prepared for the visit by some admirer of Schubert's, and received him very kindly, but when he began to compliment the works the bashful Schubert rushed out of doors. Upon another occasion during his last illness Beethoven desired something to read, and a selection of about sixty of Schubert's songs, partly in print and partly in manuscript, were put in his hands. His astonishment was extreme, especially when he heard that there existed about 500 of the same kind. He pored over them for days, and asked to see Schubert's operas and piano pieces, but the illness returned, and it was too late. He said "Truly Schubert has the divine fire in him." Schubert was one of the torch bearers at Beethoven's funeral. In March 1828, he gave an evening concert of his own works in the hall of the Musikverein. The hall was crowded, the concert very successful, and the receipts more than $150, which was a very large sum for Schubert in those days. For several months before his death Schubert's health was delicate. Poverty and hard work, a certain want of encouragement and ease had done their office for him. He died November 19, 1828. He left no will. His personal property was sold at auction, the whole amounting to about $12. Among the assets was a lot of old music valued at ten florins. It is uncertain whether this included the unpublished manuscript or not. In personal appearance Schubert was somewhat insignificant. He was about five feet one inch high, his figure stout and clumsy, with a round back and shoulders, perhaps due to incessant writing, fleshy arms, thick, short fingers. His cheeks were full, his eyebrows bushy and his nose insignificant. His hair was black, and remarkably thick and vigorous, and his eyes were so bright that even through the spectacles, which he constantly wore, they at once attracted attention. His glasses were inseparable from his face. In the convict he was the "little boy in spectacles." He habitually slept in them. He was very simple in his tastes, timid and never really at ease but in the society of his intimates and people of his own station. His attitude toward the aristocracy was entirely different from the domineering, self-assertive pose of Beethoven, but he was very amiable, and dearly beloved.



His place in the history of music, aside from the general fact of his possessing genius of the first order, is that of the creator of the artistic song. While his pianoforte sonatas are extremely beautiful and very difficult, and anticipate many modern effects; his string quartettes, and other chamber music, worthy to be ranked with those of any other master; and his symphonies exquisitely beautiful in their ideas, orchestral coloring and the entire atmosphere which they carry—his habitual attitude was that of the writer of songs. Some of these are of remarkable length and range. One of them extends to sixty-six pages of manuscript. Another occupies forty-five pages of close print. A work of this kind is a cantata, and not merely a song. Many of the others are six or eight pages long, and in all the music freely and spontaneously follows the poem, with a delicate correspondence between the poetic idea and the melody, with its harmony and treatment, such as we look for in vain in any other writer, unless it be Schumann, who, however, did not possess Schubert's instinct of the vocally suitable. For with all the range which these songs cover, their vocal quality is as noticeable as that of Italian cantilenas.



CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE STORY OF THE PIANOFORTE.

The popular instrument of the nineteenth century has been the pianoforte, the result of an evolution having its beginning more than six centuries back. It is impossible in the present state of knowledge to trace all the steps through which this remarkable instrument has reached its present form. In the Assyrian sculptures discovered by Layard, there are instruments apparently composed of metal rods or plates, touched by hammers, upon the same general principle as the toy instrument with glass plates, or the xylophone composed of wooden rods resting upon bands of straw. In these the use of the hammer for producing the tone is obvious. In the Middle Ages there was an instrument called the psaltery, apparently some sort of a four-sided harp strung with metal strings. The evidence upon this point is rather indistinct. Still later there is the Arab santir (p. 114). This was a trapeze-shaped instrument, composed of a solid frame, sounding board and metal wires struck with hammers. This instrument still exists in Germany under the name of Hackbrett, or the dulcimer. As now made, each string consists of three wires tuned in unison. It is played by means of leather hammers held in the hand. The difficulty of adapting this instrument to the keyboard consisted in the fact that if the hammers were connected with the keys, they would be under the strings instead of above them, and this difficulty for a long time proved insurmountable.



Two forms of instruments were at length developed, composed of a wire-strung psaltery, played from a chromatic keyboard like that of the organ. The first of these was the one called in England Spinet, or in Italy Espinnetto, and in Germany the Clavier. The essential characteristic of this instrument was the manner of producing tones. Upon the ends of the keys were brass pieces called "tangents," of a triangular shape, of such form that when the key was pressed, the tangent pushed the wire and so produced the tone. As it remained in contact with the wire as long as the key was held down, there was nothing like what we now call a singing tone. The instruments were very small, in shape like a square piano, but of three or four octaves compass; the wires were of brass, and quite small. In several representations which have come down to us from the seventeenth century, the number of strings shown is smaller than the number of keys, from which some writers have inferred that it might have been possible to obtain more than one tone from the same string, through a process of stopping it with one tangent and striking it with another. This, however, is highly improbable; the discrepancies referred to are undoubtedly due to carelessness of the engraver. The clavier, or spinet, was a better instrument than the lute, which at length it superseded, having more tones and a greater harmonic capacity. Besides which it was a step toward something much better still. In England they made them with pieces of cloth drawn through between the wires, to deaden the already small tone still further. These were sometimes called virginals, and seem to have been used as practice pianos, where the noise of the full tone might have been objectionable. The oldest form of the clavier known to the writer was that shown in Fig. 69, which was so small that it might be carried under the arm, and when used was placed upon the table. They were sometimes ornamented in a very elaborate manner.



Contemporaneously with the spinet, and of almost equal antiquity, was an instrument in the form of a grand piano, called in Italy the clavicembalo, and in England the harpsichord. In Germany it was called the flugel or wing, from its being shaped like the wings of a bird. These also, in the earlier times, were made very small, and were rested upon the table. The essential distinction between the cembalo and the spinet was in the manner of tone production. In the cembalo there was a wooden jack resting upon the end of the keys, and upon this jack a little plectrum made of raven's quill, which had to be frequently renewed. When the key was pressed, the jack rose and the plectrum snapped the wire. The tone was thin and delicate, but as the plectrum did not remain in contact with the string, the vibration continued longer than in the clavier. The cembalo was the favorite instrument in Italy during the seventeenth century, and in England it had a great currency under the name of harpsichord. Many attempts were made at increasing the resources of this instrument, one of the most curious being that of combining two harpsichords in one, having two actions, two sounding boards and sets of strings, and two keyboards related like those of the organ. This form seems to have been exclusively English. The form of the harpsichord is shown in Fig. 71.



Far back in the sixteenth century an attempt was made at a hammer mechanism to strike down upon the strings. For this purpose the strings were placed in a vertical position, the same as in our upright pianos of the present day. Mr. B.J. Lang, of Boston, has an upright spinet of this kind, which he bought in Nuremburg. It is a small and rude affair, having about four octaves compass and a very small scale.

[Illustration: Fig. 72.

CRISTOFORI'S ACTION.

(According to his original diagram.)

A is the string; b the bottom; c the first lever, or key; there is a pad, d, upon the key to raise a second lever, e, which is pivoted upon f; g is the hopper—Cristofori's linguetta mobile—which, controlled by the springs i and l, effects the escape, or immediate drop, of the hammer from the strings after the blow has been struck, although the key is still kept down by the finger. The hopper is centered at h. M is a rack or comb on the beam, s, where, h, the butt, n, of the hammer, o, is centered. In a state of rest the hammer is supported by a cross or fork of silk thread, p. On the depression of the key, c, the tail, q, of the second lever, e, draws away the damper, r, from the strings, leaving them free to vibrate. (Hipkins.)]

The pianoforte proper was not invented until 1711, when a Florentine mechanic, named Cristofori, invented what he called a Fortepiano, from its capacity of being played loud or soft. The essential feature of the pianoforte mechanism is in the use of the hammer to produce the tone, and the necessary provision for doing this successfully is to secure an instantaneous escapement of the hammer from contact with the wire, as soon as the blow has been delivered, while at the same time the key remains pressed in order to hold the damper away from the strings and allow the tone to go on. These features were all contained in Cristofori's invention. The above diagram, Fig. 72, illustrates the mechanism employed. It is from Cristofori's published account of his invention, dated 1711; but there is in Florence a pianoforte of his manufacture still existing, dated 1726, in which the action is more perfect, as shown in Fig. 73.



The invention of Cristofori was taken up in Germany almost immediately, and a Dresden piano maker, Silbermann, became very celebrated. It was the pianofortes of his manufacture in the palace at Potsdam, which Frederick the Great made Bach try, one after another. The form of these instruments was the same as that of Mozart's piano, shown in Fig. 71. The square-formed piano began to be made about 1750, but the instrument involved no application of new principles, being merely a clavier with pianoforte mechanism. The new form, so much more compact and inexpensive, began to be popular, and was soon the standard form for private families, as that of the clavier had been before, and as the square piano, remained until as late as about 1870, when the inherent mechanical difficulties of the upright were for the first time satisfactorily overcome. Pepys, in his diary, tells of having purchased a virginal which pleased him very much. It cost five guineas—about $26.

[Illustration: Fig. 74.

IMPROVED ACTION OF THE ERARD CONCERT GRAND. (1821.)

C is the key; d is a pilot, centered at dd to give the blow, by means of a carrier, e, holding the hopper, g, which delivers the blow to the hammer, o, by the thrust of the hopper, which escapes by forward movement after contact with a projection from the hammer covered with leather, answering to the notch of the English action. This escapement is controlled at x; a double spring il, pushes up a hinged lever, ee, the rise of which is checked at pp, and causes the second or double escapement; a little stirrup at the shoulder of the hammer, known as the "repetition" pressing down ee at the point, and by this depression permitting g to go back to its place, and be ready for a second blow before the key has been materially raised. The check p in this action is not behind the hammer, but before it, fixed into the carrier, e, which also, as the key is put down, brings down the under damper. (Hipkins.)]

The instruments were still small, and strung with small wires; nevertheless, there was a tendency toward increased compass, which, by the beginning of the nineteenth century, led the Broadwoods, of London, to attempt a grand piano with six octaves' compass. But they found that the wrest plank (in which the tuning strings are placed), was so weakened by the extension that the treble would not stand in tune. In order to strengthen the instrument, he introduced the iron tension bar. This, like nearly all of the English improvements of the piano during the first quarter of the nineteenth century, was in the direction of greater solidity, and better resisting power to the pull of the strings.

Upon the artistic side, Sebastian Erard in 1808 patented his grand action, which, with very slight improvements, still remains the model of what a piano action should be. Fig. 74 shows this action and its parts.



Between 1808, when the Erard action was perfected, and 1832 or 1834, when Thalberg and Liszt began to revolutionize the art of piano playing, the instrument was the subject of a great number of improvements in every direction. The damper mechanism was perfected between 1821 and 1827; the stringing had been made heavier, the hammers proportionately stronger, and the power of tone had become greater. Thus the instrument had become ready for the great pianists—Liszt having made his first appearance in Vienna in 1823, and within seven years after having become generally recognized as a phenomenal appearance in art. Meanwhile, great improvements were continually carried on for the purpose of rendering the instrument impervious to the forcible attacks made upon its stability by these new virtuosi. In the early appearances of Liszt it was necessary to have several pianos in reserve upon the stage, so that when a hammer or string broke, which very often happened, another instrument could be moved forward for the next piece.

The most important improvement in the solidity of the piano came from the iron frame, which was introduced tentatively, somewhere about 1821, in the form of what is now called a "hitch-pin plate," or half iron frame. About 1825 an American, Alpheus Babcock, of Philadelphia, patented a full iron frame, but it was imperfect, and nothing came of it. Conrad Meyer, of Philadelphia, in 1833, patented an iron frame and manufactured pianos with it, which are still in existence. In 1837, Jonas Chickering, of Boston, perfected the iron frame by including in the single casting the pin bridge and damper socket rail. This improvement still remains at the foundation of the piano making of the world. Previous to this invention some of the American piano makers had constructed their cases upon a solid wooden bottom plank five inches thick. In 1855 the firm of Steinway & Sons exhibited their first overstrung scale, in which the bass strings were spread out and carried over a part of the treble strings, thus affording them more latitude for vibration, without interfering, and bringing the bridges nearer to the center of the sounding board. The idea of overstringing was not new at this time, Lichtenberg, of St. Petersburg, having exhibited a grand piano with overstringing at the London exposition in 1851, and Theodore Boehm, the celebrated improver of the flute, having invented an overstrung system for square pianos as early as 1835. In 1853, also, Jonas Chickering combined an iron frame with an overstrung system in square pianos, the instrument having been completed and exhibited after his death. The Steinway system of overstringing, however, was more extended, and solved the acoustical difficulties of cross-vibrations more successfully by spreading the long strings, and this, therefore, is the system now generally followed. The superiority of this principle was immediately acknowledged, and it has since been applied to grands and uprights, and few makers in the world but follow it in their work. Many minor improvements have been introduced in America by Steinway & Sons and others, whereby the artistic qualities and the durability of the best American pianos are now generally acknowledged throughout the world. The solidity of construction is such that with a compass of seven and one-third octaves the tension of the strings amounts to about 50,000 pounds avoirdupois. The hammers are larger and heavier, the action more responsive, and the singing quality and sustaining power has reached remarkable perfection. Perhaps the most curious and important of all American improvements in this direction is the so-called "duplex scale" of Steinway & Sons, patented in 1872, in which a fraction of the string is made to vibrate sympathetically, thereby strengthening the super-octave harmonic, and imparting to the tone a brightness and sweetness not so well secured in any other way at present known.

If space permitted it would be interesting to follow the course by which the difficulties of the upright piano have at length been surmounted, and the tone of this form of instrument rendered nearly equal to that of the grand. This was first accomplished by Steinway & Sons between 1862 and 1878, by a succession of improvements having for their object, first, the solidity of the instrument, then its prompt action, together with as much of the tone quality of the grand as possible. Many other American builders have taken part in this development, whereby the American pianoforte to-day is the strongest, the fullest-toned and the most expensively constructed of any in the world. Still later, quite a number of more or less successful attempts have been made to increase the stability of the tuning of the pianoforte by a different system of stringing, the tension of the strings being regulated by means of a tuning pin of "set-screw" pattern, working through a collar of steel, instead of being thrust into a wooden wrest-plank, where it holds fast by friction alone, as has been the universal way previous to these inventions.



CHAPTER XXXIV.

GERMAN OPERA; WEBER, MEYERBEER AND WAGNER.

I.

German opera reached an extraordinary development during the nineteenth century, the distinguishing characteristics being an extremely full and dramatically conceived treatment of the orchestra, and a mode of delivering the text partaking of the character of melody and recitative in about equal proportions, the entire object being to present the action to the inner consciousness of the beholder in the most impressive manner possible. In Italian opera, as we have seen, there was a large development of arias and vocal pieces, whose value lay in their beauty as melodies and as concerted effect, the action of the drama being meanwhile delayed sometimes for an entire half hour, while these pieces were going on. In Germany the effort to improve the delivery of the text and to bring it into closer union with the orchestra, and to develop the music from a dramatic standpoint exclusively, led to the vocal form known as arioso, or, to use Wagner's term, "endless melody," in which the successive periods follow each other to the end of the paragraph, or the end of the piece, without a full stop at any point until the end of the sense is reached. The great master of this form of composition was Richard Wagner, who may be regarded as the exponent of the extreme development yet reached by German opera. Wagner's endless melody proposed to itself the same ideal as that of Gluck, but it is only at rare moments that one will find in the music of the later master the symmetrical periods of the Gluck and Mozart epoch. Italian opera, as we have already seen, carried forward the dialogue mostly in recitativo-secco, that is to say, in a recitative following more or less successfully the modulations of speech, and accompanied only by detached chords marking the emphatic moments. This form of vocal delivery has the slightest possible musical interest, and the Germans almost immediately endeavored to improve it, as also did some of the Italian masters, the first result being recitativo-stromentato, or instrumented recitative, viz., recitative in which the text is accompanied by a flowing and more or less descriptive orchestral accompaniment. This differs essentially from the descriptive recitative in the works of the Mozart or Gluck period, or even in those of Haydn's later time. In the "Creation," for example, the descriptive recitative consists of vocal phrases with instrumental phrases interspersed, in dialogue form. The voice announces a certain fact and the orchestra immediately answers with a musical phrase corresponding to it, as, for example, in the recitative describing the creation of the world, where the phrase relating to the horse is immediately answered by an orchestral gallop; that of the tiger by certain slides and leaps in the melody remotely answering it; while the roar of the lion is immediately answered by a vigorous snort of the bass trombone. This is by no means of the same nature as the dramatic arioso of German opera during the nineteenth century. Haendel came nearer to this type of musical formation, for example, in the "Messiah," at the recitative describing the appearance of the angels to the shepherds, where, after a phrase of unaccompanied recitative, the appearance of the angels is signified by an accompanied and measured strain, "And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them."

This development of opera in the nineteenth century has been carried forward by the successive efforts of a considerable number of masters, among whom the three most important are Weber, Meyerbeer and Wagner, each of whom created a type of opera peculiar to himself, and left something as an addition to the permanent stock of musical dramatic ideas.



II.

Carl Maria von Weber (1786-1826) was the son of a very musical family. He was born at Eutin, and fulfilled his father's desire, which had always been to have a child who should correspond to the youthful promise of Mozart. The father was an actor, and the director of a traveling troupe, largely composed of his own children by a former marriage. This mode of life continued for a number of years, while the future master was quite small. In 1794 Carl Maria's mother was engaged as a singer at the theater at Weimar, under Goethe's direction. Presently, however, the boy became a pupil of Heuschkel, an eminent oboeist, a solid pianist and organist, and a good composer. Under his careful direction Weber developed a technique which very soon passed far beyond anything that had previously been seen. Still later he became a pupil of Michael Haydn, a brother of Joseph. As early as 1800 the boy gave concerts in Leipsic and other towns in central Germany. At this time an opera book was given him, "Das Wald Maedchen," and the opera was composed and produced in November. Five years later it was highly appreciated at Vienna, and was performed also at Prague and St. Petersburg. Young Weber was of a most active mind, and interested himself in all questions of art. In 1803 he made the acquaintance of the famous Abbe Vogler, and became his pupil. Vogler commissioned him to prepare the piano score of a new opera of his. He still continued his practice as pianist, but when he lacked some months of being eighteen years of age he was made director of the music of the theater at Breslau. This was his first acquaintance with practical life as a musician. He showed great talent for direction and organization, and here he composed his first serious opera "Rubezahl" (1806). His next position was at Stuttgart, where he became musical director in 1807. After composing several short pieces, he led a somewhat irregular life for several years, concerting as a pianist, writing articles for the papers, at which he was very talented, beginning a musical novel, and at length, in 1810, producing his opera "Abou Hassan." Then followed about three years of roving life as a concert player and occasionally as composer, until 1813, when he was appointed musical director at Prague. The opera here was in very bad condition, and the company incapable, but Weber engaged new singers in Vienna, and entirely reorganized the affair, and conducted himself so prudently that he gained the good will of nearly every one. As an example of his quickness it may be mentioned that upon discovering that certain musicians in the orchestra, who were not disposed to yield to his strict ideas of discipline, were conversing with each other in Bohemian, while the music was going on, he learned the language himself sufficiently to rebuke them in their own tongue. His next position was at Dresden in 1816, and here he remained nine years until his death. His position at first was somewhat ambiguous. There were two troupes of singers in the opera—an Italian and the German. The grand operas were given in Italian by the Italian company, and the light operas in German by the German company. It was Weber's task to change this, by producing new works of a distinctly higher character than the foreign works of the Italian company. The second year he was able to produce a few good operas of other schools in German versions, but it was not until 1821, when his "Preciosa" was produced at Berlin, and 1822, when "Der Freischuetz" was produced in the same theater, that the reputation of the young master was established beyond question. It is impossible at the present time to describe the enthusiasm which the latter work created. It was a new departure in opera. It united two strains very dear to the German heart—the simple peasant life and the people's song are represented in the choruses, and in the arias of the less important people. Agatha, the heroine, has a prayer of exquisite beauty, which still is often heard as a church tune. And in contrast with these elements was the weird and uncanny music of Zamiel, the Satanic spirit of the wood, and the strange incantation scene in the Wolf's Glen at midnight, where the magic balls are cast. The story was thoroughly German, and the music not only German and well suited to the story, but distinctly original and charming of itself. In this work, perhaps first of any opera, Weber made use of what has since been known as "leading motives"—characteristic melodic phrases appropriate to Zamiel and Agatha. The instrumentation was very graphic, and as Weber had been brought up upon the stage, there were many novelties of a scenic kind. In fact, the work marked as distinct an epoch as Wagner's "Nibelungen Ring," and what is more to the point, it was one of the operative influences affecting the young Wagner, as he tells with considerable care in his autobiography. His next effort was a comic opera, the "Three Pintos," which was never finished. Then came "Euryanthe" performed at Vienna in 1823 with the most extraordinary success. This work is said to have been the model upon which Wagner created his "Lohengrin." When it was produced in Berlin in 1825, the enthusiasm was yet greater and more remarkable than in Vienna. In 1825 he composed "Oberon," the first of the operas in which the fairy principle has prominent exemplification. This was produced in London early in 1826. But by this time Weber's health had become completely broken, and he died there of overwork and fatigue. He was laid to his rest, to the music of Mozart's Requiem, in the chapel at Moorsfields in London.